Going All In (1Night Stand) Read online

Her pale inner thighs showed the contact burn from his beard stubble. I should have requested a razor from the front desk. Before he pulled out, he placed a kiss on her soft cheek. Removing the condom, he wrapped it in a napkin and dropped it into the wastebasket.

  What should he talk about with someone who didn’t want to know his name? Not that they had to talk. He had plenty of thoughts on how to spend the rest of their time together. No words were necessary for any of them.

  She stood in front of the window with its view of the Strip.

  “How about some champagne?” He’d happily switch from beer to wine for her.

  Turning toward him, she nodded, wide-eyed, and crossed her arms over voluminous breasts.

  He recognized the fear in her eyes. She didn’t do casual sex or one-night stands, arranged by a high-end dating service or not. Ian wanted to make her comfortable so she’d stay the rest of the night. If she walked out now, he’d never have the opportunity to really know her and for her to want to know him. To beg him not only for his name, but for the dark secret that ripped apart his insides and stole his sleep. And to convince him of his worthiness for her love. At best, he could hope she’d acknowledge him if they crossed paths in the casino.

  “There’s a bathrobe in the closet.” Speaking the words pained him. If he had his way, she’d spend their entire time together nude.

  “I’ll go freshen up.” Heading to the closet, she removed the robe and went into the bathroom. The door closed with a click.

  Ian untwisted the wire from the neck of the bottle, removed the metal foil covering the cork, and tugged. The cork shot out and slammed into a lamp. With a curse, he checked for damage and found it unbroken. Letting out a sigh of relief, he straightened the shade. Property damage probably didn’t count as an amenity.

  Used to tapping kegs and opening beer bottles, he hadn’t uncorked bubbly in years. At least Kira hadn’t witnessed his ineptitude. He poured the champagne into two flutes, added a strawberry to each, and used the sink in the half bath to clean up. When he finished, he raided the tray of food again. And waited.

  When she hadn’t emerged after a while, he tapped on the door. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t respond.

  It would be unforgivable to do something to hurt or frighten her. But what if something else was wrong? She could be hurt or unconscious and unable to call for help. He tied his towel around his waist. It wouldn’t do to burst in on her buck naked.

  Twisting the knob, Ian pushed the door open. Clad in the bathrobe, Kira sat in the empty sunken tub, sobbing. Shit. He knew how to be an accountant, a dealer in numbers and data—not emotion. A coldhearted decision to value the mighty dollar over the safety of his employees had brought him to Vegas. This time he needed to meet emotion head on.

  The door creaked, and Kira peeked between her fingers. The man hesitated before entering the room then crept toward her as though treading through a minefield. Great, he probably thinks I’m a nut case. Not only had she called him the wrong name, she’d gotten a glimpse of the waxing moon and ice-cold fear had paralyzed her. Stupid old hag and her damned curses. Sinking farther into the tub, Kira wished she could hide under soapy water.

  She’d been superstitious her whole life, developing a daily ritual of consulting the horoscope for her sun sign, Gemini. Been careful never to break a mirror, open an umbrella inside the house, or walk under a ladder. Always tossed spilt salt over her left shoulder and picked pennies off the ground. The crone’s curse nagged at her. It might not be real, but Kira needed to talk to her roommate, a self-proclaimed expert on all things occult.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and cleared her throat.

  “May I join you?” His gentle tone soothed her. At her nod, he darted out of the room.

  While she examined the tidy row of miniature bottles of soap, shampoo, conditioner, and bath salts, she imagined him calling the concierge for a psych-ward recommendation. Do mental hospitals take reservations?

  He returned a moment later, clutching feather pillows in one hand and half-full flutes with the other. After retrieving the champagne bottle, he topped off the glasses and set the bottle on the floor. Kira accepted a glass and leaned forward, allowing him to tuck a pillow between her back and the tub. Arranging the other pillow across from her, he settled against it.

  “To our fortuitous second meeting.” He clinked his glass with hers.

  “Second meeting?”

  “You brought me the voucher I left at the poker table and a bottle of water.” He raised his eyebrows. “I couldn’t tip you before, but I can make it up to you now.”

  Multiple orgasms were much better payment than mere cash. She sipped the bubbly liquid. A firm strawberry bobbed up and down in the glass, brushing her mouth, reminding her of his cock between her lips.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” He stroked her wrist, his thumb moving in small circles. Something tightened in her center, his touch reminiscent of his masterful manipulation of her feminine bits.

  “It’s nothing,” she lied.

  He pulled his hand away and took a big gulp of champagne. “If you want to be alone….”

  “It’s not that. I’d rather talk about you.”

  “I don’t understand.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You didn’t want to know my name. Am I supposed to pretend to be Gavin?”

  “Huh?” Then it dawned on her. “I’m sorry I called you by someone else’s name. Did anyone ever mention you look a little like Gavin Rossdale from Bush?”

  His brows knit together. “Are you saying you want to have sex with a rock star?”

  “Is that a trick question?” She smirked. “It’s the idea of sex with someone I just met and whose name I didn’t know that’s exciting. A fantasy, I guess.”

  His eyes lit with interest. “Do you have other fantasies you want to explore?”

  “Maybe.” Kira pursed her lips.

  “Will you share them with me?”

  One thing for sure, she wouldn’t make the mistake of calling him Gavin again. “I will if you’ll share a couple things with me first.”

  “Okay, what do you want to know?” He settled deeper against the pillow and propped his arms against the edge of the tub.

  “I want to know what brought you to Vegas.” She shifted, relaxing one leg out over the side. “And I want to know your name.”

  He picked up his glass and swirled the strawberry around. “My name is Ian Harding.” He drained the champagne, leaving the fruit. “I came to Vegas because I killed a man.”

  Chapter Five

  Ian waited for Kira to order him to leave. What the hell had possessed him to blurt out this confession? His subconscious must be hell-bent on destroying his undeserved moment of pleasure. If he could unspeak the words, he would. She wouldn’t want to be alone with him now, defenseless and practically naked.

  Kira grabbed the champagne bottle and held it by its neck, as though she planned to swing it at him. Her need for a makeshift weapon pained him. He sighed and scooted over to give her a clear path to the door.

  “I promise not to hurt you. I didn’t mean to kill him. You could call it an accident, I guess.”

  “Tell me the whole story, or I’ll leave.” Her gaze on the door, she kept a white-knuckled grip on the bottle. Like a model rocket with a lit fuse, she looked ready to launch.

  “Please don’t go.” His words were scratchy and broken. Why hadn’t he told her he’d come to Vegas to become a professional poker player? Because he couldn’t lie—she deserved to know the whole story.

  The event triggering his trip to Vegas gave him nightmares, and now it would destroy this brief waking dream. The words tumbled out of his mouth. “A man died because of me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”

  “My brother, Derek, and I own a microbrewery in Portland. We were days from making a deal with a major beer distributor, but Derek didn’t want to sell. He liked the way things were.” Speaking his brother’s name reminded Ian of his cell phone, and the emails and texts he couldn’t bear to read.

  “Keep going.”

  “He asked me to sign off on some new equipment. At the close of the deal, the manufacturing operation would transfer to the purchaser’s factory in Wisconsin so I didn’t see any point to the upgrades.” Ian sighed. “One of our employees died when a tank exploded.”

  “Did the tank malfunction?”

  “I left before the release of the results of the investigation.”

  “So how do you know you’re responsible?” Holding her robe closed, Kira placed the bottle in the tub, climbed out, and settled on the floor next to him. As though knowing he’d been carrying knots in his neck for weeks, she worked to loosen them.

  “I just know.” He couldn’t explain the roundhouse to the gut every time he remembered the coroner rolling out the body bag. Or the odor of charred meat that clung to his nostrils. Ian had killed the man as surely as if he’d used a handgun or a hunting knife. If only he had thought with his heart instead of his wallet. “Are you going to run screaming from the building now that you know the kind of man I am?”

  Kira shifted her ministrations to his upper back. His body sang under her magic touch. “Maybe you screwed up. The important thing is to stop doing it. You’ll feel better once you return to Oregon and face everything head on.”

  He placed his head in his hands. How could he go back there when he couldn’t even muster the courage to listen to his brother’s messages or read his texts?

  She tilted his head up. “So you ran away to Vegas? Why?”

  “Penance, I guess. I wanted to live without using any money I earned from the brewery.”

  “How’s that working out for you?” The corners of her mouth twitched.

  “I’m in
a luxury hotel with a bewitching brunette. It doesn’t get any better.” Ian decided to press his luck. “Are you willing to share a fantasy now?”

  “I have a list, actually,” she said, and examined the ceiling tiles. “I read about the reverse cowgirl position in a magazine. I’ve always wanted to try it.” She glanced at him and bit her lip.

  Ian pictured her, facing away, riding him, and wearing only a cowboy hat. His cock tented the towel he still wore. Oh hell yes. He definitely wanted to fulfill that particular fantasy. If only he hadn’t ruined his chance with talk of his screwed-up past.

  “Good one. Let’s hear another.” He cleared his throat.

  “Nice try, buster.” She poked him with a glittery, polished nail. “I have a better idea, involving fantasy number seven. Pour us refills.”

  He rose to obey with cartoon sevens dancing a conga line in his mind.

  She removed the pillow and bottle from the tub, opened the faucet and dumped bath salts in the water. Bubbles formed, and the aroma of roses and jasmine filled the air. After refilling their glasses, they clinked them and watched the tub fill.

  Kira shut off the water and let her robe fall to the tile. With a toss of her hair, she returned his gaze. “Are you going to join me?”

  He couldn’t wrap his mind around the knowledge his revelation hadn’t scared her off. His cock twitched at the sight of her perfect, rounded ass. All too soon, though, the bubbles hid her exquisite, naked form. Setting their glasses on the floor, he dropped his towel, and climbed in behind her.

  “Tell me more about these fantasies. How many are we talking about?”

  “Only seven,” she said. “And we’ve already covered a few of them.”

  Lucky number seven. Only in Vegas.

  Dipping a washcloth in the soapy water, he ran it along her shoulder blades. Tendrils of hair curled around her long neck. He trailed kisses down her spine. Goose bumps erupted along her skin, and she pressed against his cock. Ian wanted to explore every inch of her with his hands and mouth. Maybe he didn’t deserve these stolen moments, but he couldn’t deny her if she’d have him.

  She reached behind her, along his thighs to his cock, and stroked his length. Letting the washcloth drop, he curved his palms around to cup her full breasts. Her nipples hardened under his touch. Still holding one breast, he ran one hand down her skin and eased a finger inside her pussy.

  She jerked and shuddered. Her breath came out in gasps.

  He needed to be balls deep in her. Now. “Ready for the rodeo, darlin’?”

  “Yes,” she replied, the word soft but sure.

  He climbed out and scooped her up, holding her tightly against his body. The trust in her eyes undid him. He hadn’t earned it, but he swore she would never regret giving it to him.

  It killed him to do it, but he set her down and dried her skin with a fresh towel. They walked hand in hand to the bed, stopping so he could snag a condom from the welcome basket.

  He’d be happy to make every fantasy on her list come true. With eyes alight with anticipation, she reached for the packet. Condom secured, she seemed unsure what to do next.

  “Come on,” he urged, joining her on the bed. Settling on his stomach, she faced away from him.

  He sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “My beautiful cowgirl.”

  Her muscles constricted with tension. All of her bravado must have gone down the drain with the bath water. Gripping her hair, he pushed her forward enough for her pussy to reach his groin. Within moments, she relaxed, primed and ready. She scooted into position and settled over him with care. His cock sank, inch by inch, into her tight heat. Damn, she felt like home. Ian fought the urge to control the rhythm. The position had made Kira’s oh-too-short fantasy list, and she had to be the one to call the shots.

  The scent from the bath salts mixed with the musky scent of sex, surrounding them in a decadent cocoon. Her movements started out jerky and unsure, but smoothed out as she experimented with different rhythms. Not that he cared. He could watch her bounce on his cock all day. Once she seemed more confident, he thrust to meet her. He’d make certain she earned her cowgirl badge.

  She peered over her shoulder, her eyes hooded. Her cheeks were pink and her wet hair tousled.

  “Any other requests, darlin?” he asked with an extra twang. Not an outdoorsman, he’d never appreciated the fun of cowgirl games. Until now.

  “More,” she panted.

  A request he’d be happy to fulfill. He could become addicted to this woman. Lifting her off him, he eased her onto the comforter and slipped his cock inside then held her wrists and pinned them over her head with one hand.

  “Oh, yeah,” she cried.

  He pounded into her and, with each stroke, she gave a moan of satisfaction. He shifted to get better leverage to go even deeper and she clawed the sheets, writhing, convulsing around his cock, shouting his name before finally falling limp beneath him.

  She’d called his name. My name.

  He thrust again, and his orgasm hit. With his pulse thrumming, heart pounding, and hope returning, he savored every second spent inside her.

  Easing out, Ian dropped beside her and held her close. Their breathing slowed, hearts beating in unison. If he never had to leave the room, he’d be a happy man. But with that thought came another—how could he let her go when their time together ended?

  Chapter Six

  Ian dozed but kept waking up after short bursts of sleep. He needed to see Kira cuddled next to him to convince himself she hadn’t been a perfect dream. Each time he awoke, he breathed in her sweet scent, thankful for his good fortune in winning the date and the chance to win Kira’s heart. With her by his side, he might be able to summon the courage to face his brother. And the life he’d left behind in Portland.

  What were the odds his date would be the beautiful cocktail waitress who’d returned the voucher? He didn’t believe in coincidences. Did Madame Evangeline know Kira would be the one to convince me to face my past?

  He had never imagined transitioning from successful businessman to down-on-his-luck gambler in a week. Maybe he had a little luck left in him. For all of his sins, though, he didn’t deserve such a blessing. But, deserve it or not, he had no intention of denying this woman anything she wished.

  Facing him, she ground against his morning wood, a wicked, ready-for-another-fantasy grin plastered on her face.

  “Mornin’, beautiful.” He stroked her hair.

  “Good morning, Ian.” She stretched and the blanket shifted, exposing her collarbone, oh-so-kissable throat, and pert, naked breasts.

  His cock responded to the sound of his name. Before they made love, he needed assurance that the end of the date didn’t mean the end of their relationship. He’d never been lucky at love before, but he was well acquainted with the fickleness of fortune.

  Playing with a lock of hair curling around her breast, he said, “Let’s go to Red Rock Canyon this weekend. I hear it’s a great place to view the full moon.”

  She stiffened, and the smile melted.

  Not the response he’d expected. They hadn’t even had breakfast, and he couldn’t resist a desperate plea to see her again. He laced their fingers together and changed the subject. “Want something to eat? I’ll call for room service. We can get a full spread—waffles, bacon, eggs, and juice.” His stomach growled.

  She wrenched away from him, her face frozen in an unreadable mask. Moving to the edge of the king-sized bed, she yanked the coverlet over her sexy curves.

  With her ferocious appetite for sex, he hadn’t taken her for someone who hated breakfast. “Just coffee then? Or tea? Maybe they can send up one of those plastic bears filled with honey. I can drizzle it on you and have you for breakfast.”

  She shook her head, her face turning the greenish yellow of a fading bruise.

  Well, shit. Everything he’d told her about his responsibility in the death of his employee and his subsequent flight from his old life must have finally sunk in. What woman would want to stay with a coward who couldn’t face his problems? A broke gambler with a shady past, he couldn’t offer her much in terms of a future. She must see a hundred people a day who believed gambling would solve all of their problems. But he’d bet on her no matter what the odds.

  A sharp rap on the door caused her to jerk and roll off the bed. She popped up and tightened the blanket around her body. As close as they had been, seeing her act skittish caused an emptiness in the pit of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with his desire for breakfast.