What Happens In Vegas.... Lauren Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ the hell was Jack acting possessive?

      He understood no-strings sex as much as I did. At twenty-eight, he’d yet to have a real relationship and had no desire to do so as long as he was a firefighter. Those were the reasons I’d known it was safe to try for sexual fringe benefits while renewing our friendship. If he’d changed course on me, was even now thinking of ways to get into my heart beyond friendship, I was going to have to kick his ass.

      I gave another shrug. “He brushed my butt and I gave him a dirty look for it. What’s it to you?”

      “Nothing. I just don’t like the thought of you being taken advantage of.”

      My insides tightened. I believed he didn’t want to see me taken advantage of, but the “nothing” part of the equation was a bold-faced lie. Survival instincts had me jutting my hip out. “Are we okay?”

      Jack’s gaze narrowed—yet another testament to how well he knew me, that with just a little hip action he could tell I wasn’t happy. “We’re fine.”

      “Then it won’t hurt your feelings when I tell you I don’t want you here.”

      He smirked as he stood. “You are still ticked.”

      “No. I’m on the clock. Standing around shooting the shit with you isn’t exactly raking in the dough.” I uncocked my hip and grabbed the nearly empty glass from the table in front of him—obviously he’d been drinking soda because he never touched alcohol before dinner. “See you later, Jack.”

      His fingers settled on my arm, staying me when I would have turned and run away like the chickenshit his uncharacteristic behavior had me feeling like. His smirk was gone, replaced with a sensual tilt to his mouth that gave a glimpse of his tongue and immediately had my thong damp all over again. “When later?”

      I’d meant the words as a figure of speech, and I should have told him so. But I couldn’t stop thinking about those three incredible orgasms he’d given me last night or how amazingly good it had felt to fall asleep in his arms, and so I proved I was one card shy of a full deck by saying, “I’m working doubles the next two days—”

      “In other words, you’ll be too tired for sex.”

      “In other words, you’d best plan a full-body massage into your foreplay. I get off at seven.”

      His mouth curved fully, into the cockiest grin I’d ever seen him wear. “And eight, nine, ten and eleven.”

      I liked my bad boys, and I liked his arrogance so much that if it wasn’t for the tray of drinks and the glass shower that would ensue if I dropped it, I probably would have said to hell with my job and slid onto his cock there and then.

      Since I did have that tray and I really needed this job, I somehow managed to stand my ground. “If you plan to use me that much, you’d best add a bottle of gin and an extra-large jar of olives to the schedule.”

      Chapter Three

       Jack

      Though I knew my brother had today and tomorrow off work, I held out hope Ryan would be gone when I arrived at the rental house we shared. No such luck. His Jeep was in the garage and when I opened the door that led from the garage into the kitchen, Ryan was less than a foot away, looking ready to kill.

      Green eyes narrowed in a death glare, he stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his sweatpants. “I didn’t hear any emergency backup calls come over the fire scanner last night, so I’m guessing a piece of ass would be the reason you never made it home.”

      I almost laughed at his tone: a mix of concern and anger. I’d experienced the same feelings too damned many times when we’d been teenagers and Ryan had failed to come home by curfew. Back then, Mom had been working nights on a stamping production line and, with Dad gone, I’d taken it upon myself to see that Ryan didn’t end up in a jail cell. As fate and his miscreant ways would have it, he had ended up in the slammer a handful of times, but never for anything more than misdemeanor offenses.

      Although he still had his narrow-minded days, my brother had come a long way since then, was a valuable member of the Ladder 19 fire crew and a guy in whose hands I’d put my life more than a few times while on the job. That didn’t mean I wanted him tracking my every move. I sure as hell didn’t want him referring to Carinna as a piece of ass.

      Since he knew about Carinna’s relationship phobia, and I could guess he would think I was a hopeless fool to still be making a long-term play for her, I didn’t want him knowing I’d hooked up with her again.

      I dismissed his words with a shrug. “You’re the one who’s always saying shit happens. Besides, how was I to know you’d be spending the night home playing curfew cop?”

      Dressed as he was, in baggy gray sweats and a faded black T-shirt with a picture of a bunned hot dog and the words Bite Me beneath it, Ryan didn’t look like a ladies’ man. The endless string of females that crossed our threshold on his arm and proceeded straight to his bedroom proved he not only cleaned up well but knew how to work his year-round tan, dark good looks and muscles honed on the job to their best advantage.

      “That wasn’t the plan,” he said dryly. “I had a blind date that five minutes in had me wishing I really was blind so I could trip over a rock and fake my death. I got in around ten, watched a couple movies, then headed to bed around three, wondering where the fuck you were.” He gave me the death glare a few more seconds, which was pointless since I was the one who’d taught him the look fifteen years ago in an effort to get a schoolyard bully off his back. Finally, he let the glare go and gave me a conspiratorial smile. “So, how was she?”

       The best of my life.

      I might not have liked the way our talk had gone in the bar that morning, but memories of loving Carinna and holding her well into the night had a euphoric smile tugging at my lips. I knew Ryan would see it and know damned well who was behind it, so I pushed him out of my way and headed for the coffeepot.

      Thankful to see the light was still on, which meant it hadn’t been brewed too long ago, I poured a cup before turning back. I was shitty at lying, but attempted it anyway. “She was a poker table down at The Liege. I was hot as hell last night.”

      Ryan settled at the kitchen table, reclining back in one wooden chair and propping his bare feet up on the seat of another. “Did you see Carinna?”

      “Should I have?” I groaned inwardly as I slid onto a chair across the table from him. Shit, I’d sounded defensive.

      The amusement that passed through Ryan’s eyes said he hadn’t missed my reaction. “Like I said yesterday, she dumped the foot-fetish dude, model, whatever the hell he is. I checked in on her last night to see how she was handling things and she was about to head out for The Liege. She wasn’t dressed in that itty-bitty-titty costume, either.”

      In the midst of sipping my coffee, I winced at the mention of Carinna’s uniform. I hated the way the black sarong-style top spangled with gold sequins was cut so low her cleavage risked spilling out. The matching miniskirt was a waste of about three inches of material, given every time she moved it threatened to expose her entire ass. In the twenty minutes I’d been in the tequila bar that morning, I’d caught a glimpse of the black thong sheathed between her firm butt cheeks СКАЧАТЬ