by Nora Roberts
The man beside Ryan swirled a bourbon and signed his name on a sheet of paper. He had just dropped over two thousand dollars. Philosophically, he bought another five thousand dollars worth of chips. Ryan watched a diamond glitter on his pinky as the cards were dealt. A triple deck, she remembered and lifted the tips of her own cards carefully. She saw an eight and a five. A young blonde in a black Halston took a hit and busted on twenty-three. The man with the diamond held on eighteen. Ryan took a hit and was pleased with another five. She held, then waited patiently as two more players took cards.
The dealer turned over fourteen, flipped over his next card and hit twenty. The man with the diamond swore softly as he lost another five hundred dollars.
Ryan counted her next cards, watched the hits and lost again. Undaunted, she waited for her third deal. She drew seventeen. Before she could signal the dealer she would hold, Pierce nodded for the hit.
“Wait a minute,” Ryan began.
“Take it,” he said simply.
With a huff and a shrug, she did. She hit twenty. Eyes wide, she swiveled in her chair to stare at him, but he was watching the cards. The dealer held on nineteen and paid her off.
“I won!” she exclaimed, pleased with the stack of chips pushed at her. “How did you know?”
He only smiled at her and continued to watch the cards.
On the next hand she drew a ten and a six. She would have taken the hit, but Pierce touched her shoulder and shook his head. Swallowing her protest, Ryan stayed pat. The dealer broke on twenty-two.
She laughed, delighted, but looked over at him again. “How do you do that?” she demanded. “It’s a triple deck. You can’t possibly remember all the cards dealt or figure what’s left.” He said nothing, and her brow creased. “Can you?”
Pierce smiled again and shook his head simply. Then he steered Ryan to another win.
“Want to take a look at mine?” the man with the diamond demanded, pushing aside his cards in disgust.
Ryan leaned toward him. “He’s a sorcerer, you know. I take him everywhere.”
The young blonde tucked her hair behind her ear. “I could use a spell or two myself.” She sent Pierce a slow invitation. Ryan caught her eye as the cards were dealt.
“Mine,” she said coolly and didn’t see Pierce’s brow go up. The blonde went back to her cards.
For the next hour Ryan’s luck—or Pierce’s—held. When the pile of chips in front of her had grown considerably, he opened her purse and swept them inside.
“Oh, but wait. I’m just getting started!”
“The secret of winning is knowing when to stop,” Pierce told her and helped her off the stool. “Cash them in, Ryan, before you take it into your head to lose them at baccarat.”
“But I did want to play,” she began, casting a glance behind her.
“Not tonight.”
With a heavy sigh she dumped the contents of her purse at the cashier’s booth. Along with the chips was a comb, a lipstick and a penny that had been flattened by the wheel of a train.
“That’s for luck,” she said when Pierce picked it up to examine it.
“Superstition, Miss Swan,” he murmured. “You surprise me.”
“It’s not superstition,” she insisted, stuffing bills in her purse as the cashier counted them out. “It’s for luck.”
“I stand corrected.”
“I like you, Pierce.” Ryan linked her arm with his. “I thought I should tell you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she said definitely. She could tell him that, she thought as they moved to the elevators. That was safe and certainly true. She wouldn’t tell him what Bess had said so casually. Love him? No, that was far from safe, and it wasn’t necessarily true. Even though . . . even though she was becoming more and more afraid it was.
“Do you like me?” Ryan turned to him and smiled as the elevator doors clicked shut.
“Yes, Ryan.” He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “I like you.”
“I wasn’t sure.” She stepped closer to him, and he felt a tingle race along his skin. “You’ve been angry with me.”
“No, I haven’t been angry with you.”
She was staring up at him. Pierce could feel the air grow thick, as it did when the lid closed on him in a box or a trunk. His heart rate speeded up, and with sheer mental determination, he leveled it. He wasn’t going to touch her again.
Ryan saw something flicker in his eyes. A hunger. Hers grew as well, but more, she felt a need to touch, to soothe. To love. She knew him now, though he was unaware of it. She wanted to give him something. She reached up to touch his cheek, but Pierce caught her fingers in his as the door opened.
“You must be tired,” he said roughly and drew her into the corridor.
“No.” Ryan laughed with the new sense of power. He was just a little afraid of her. She sensed it. Something shot into her—a combination of wine and winning and knowledge. And she wanted him.
“Are you tired, Pierce?” she asked when he unlocked the door to the suite.
“It’s late.”
“No. No, it’s never late in Las Vegas.” She tossed her purse aside and stretched. “There’s no time here, don’t you know? No clocks.” Lifting her hair, she let it fall slowly through her fingers. “How can it be late when you don’t know what time it is?” She spotted his papers on the table and crossed to them, kicking off her shoes as she went. “You work too much, Mr. Atkins.” Laughing, she turned back to him. “Miss Swan’s like that, isn’t she?”
Her hair had tumbled over her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were alive, dancing, alluring. In them he saw that his thoughts were no secret to her. Desire was a hammer thrust in his stomach. Pierce said nothing.
“But you like Miss Swan,” she murmured. “I don’t always. Come sit down. Explain this to me.” Ryan dropped to the couch and picked up one of his papers. It was covered with drawings and notes that made absolutely no sense to her.
Pierce moved then, telling himself it was only to keep her from disturbing his work. “It’s too complicated.” He took the sheet from her hand and set it back down.
“I’ve a very quick mind.” Ryan pulled his arm until he sat beside her. She looked at him and smiled. “Do you know, the first time I looked into your eyes I thought my heart stopped.” She put her hand to his cheek. “The first time you kissed me I knew it did.”
Pierce caught her hand again, knowing he was close to the edge. Her free one ran up his shirtfront to his throat. “Ryan, you should go to bed.”
She could hear the desire in his voice. Under her fingertip the pulse in his throat throbbed quickly. Her own heart began to match the rhythm. “No one’s ever kissed me like that before,” she murmured and slipped her fingers to the first button of his shirt. She freed it, watching his eyes. “No one’s ever made me feel like that before. Was it magic, Pierce?” She loosened the second and third buttons.
“No.” He reached up to stop the questing fingers that were driving him mad.
“I think it was.” Ryan shifted and caught his earlobe lightly between her teeth. “I know it was.” The whispering breath went straight to the pit of his stomach to stoke the flames. They flared high and threatened to explode. Catching her by the shoulders, Pierce started to draw her away, but her hands were on his naked chest. Her mouth brushed his throat. His fingers tightened as the tug of war went on inside him.
“Ryan.” Though he concentrated, he couldn’t steady his pulse. “What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to seduce you,” she murmured, trailing her lips down to follow her fingers. “Is it working?”
Her hands ran down his rib cage to play lightly over his stomach. She felt the quiver of response and grew bolder.
“Yes, it’s working very well.”
Ryan laughed, a throaty, almost mocking sound that made his blood pound. Though he didn’t touch her, he was no longer able to stop her from touching him. Her hands were soft and
teasing while her tongue flicked lightly at his ear.
“Are you sure?” she whispered as she slipped his shirt from his shoulders. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong.” She trailed her mouth to his chin, then let her tongue run briefly over his lips. “Maybe you don’t want me to touch you like this.” She ran a fingertip down the center of his chest to the waist of his jeans. “Or like this.” She nipped his bottom lip, still watching his eyes.
No, she’d been wrong. They were black—black, not gray. Needs drove her until she thought she would be swallowed by them. Could it be possible to want so much? So much that your whole body ached and pounded and threatened to shatter?
“I wanted you when you walked offstage tonight,” she said huskily. “Right then, while I still half-believed you were a wizard and not a man. And now.” She ran her hands up his chest to link them behind his neck. “Now, knowing you’re a man, I want you more.” She let her eyes lower to his mouth, then lifted them back to his. “But maybe you don’t want me. Maybe I don’t . . . arouse you.”
“Ryan.” He’d lost the ability to control his pulse, his thoughts, his concentration. He’d lost the will to try to find it again. “There won’t be any turning back in a moment.”
She laughed, giddy with excitement, driven by desire. She let her lips hover a breath from his. “Promise?”
Ryan exulted in the power of the kiss. His mouth was on hers fiercely, painfully. She was under him with such speed, she never felt the movement, only his hard body on hers. He was pulling at her blouse, impatient with buttons. Two flew off to land somewhere on the carpet before his hand took her breast. Ryan moaned and arched against him, desperate to be touched. His tongue went deep to tangle with hers.
Desire was white-hot—flashes of heat, splashes of color. Her skin was searing wherever he touched. She was naked without knowing how she had become so, and his bare flesh was melded to hers. His teeth were on her breast, lightly at the edge of control, then his tongue swept across her nipple until she moaned and pressed closer.
Pierce could feel the hammer beat of her pulse, almost taste it as his mouth hurried to her other breast. Her moans and her urging hands were driving him beyond reason. He was trapped in a furnace, but there would be no escape this time. He knew his flesh would melt into hers until there was nothing left to keep him separate. The heat, her scent, her taste all whirled inside his head. Excitement? No, this was more than excitement. It was obsession.
He slipped his fingers inside her. She was so soft, so warm and moist, he had no more will left.
He entered her with a wildness that stunned them both. Then she was moving with him, frantic and strong. He felt the pain of impossible pleasure, knowing he had been the enchanted, not the enchanter. He was utterly hers.
Ryan felt his ragged breath against her neck. His heart was still racing. For me, she thought dreamily as she floated on the aftermath of passion. Mine, she thought again and sighed. How had Bess known before she had? Ryan closed her eyes and let herself drift.
It must show on her face like a neon sign. Is it too soon to tell him? she wondered. Wait, she decided, touching his hair. She would let herself have time to get used to love before she proclaimed it. At that moment she felt she had all the time in the world.
She gave a murmured protest when Pierce took his weight from her. Slowly, she opened her eyes. He stared down at his hands. He was cursing himself steadily.
“Did I hurt you?” he demanded in a quick, rough burst.
“No,” she said, surprised, then remembered Bess’s story. “No, you didn’t hurt me, Pierce. You couldn’t. You’re a very gentle man.”
His eyes whipped back to hers, dark, anguished. There had been no gentleness in him when he had loved her. Only needs and desperation. “Not always,” he said sharply and reached for his jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll go down and get another room.” He was dressing swiftly as she looked on. “I’m sorry this happened. I won’t . . .” He stopped when he looked and saw tears welling in her eyes. Something ripped inside his stomach. “Ryan, I am sorry.” Sitting beside her again, he brushed a tear away with his thumb. “I swore I wasn’t going to touch you. I shouldn’t have. You’d had too much to drink. I knew that and should’ve—”
“Damn you!” She slapped his hand away. “I was wrong. You can hurt me. Well, you don’t have to get another room.” She reached down for her blouse. “I’ll get one myself. I won’t stay here after you’ve turned something wonderful into a mistake.”
She was up and tugging on her blouse, which was inside out.
“Ryan, I—”
“Oh, shut up!” Seeing the two middle buttons were missing, she tore the blouse off again and stood facing him, haughtily naked, eyes blazing. He nearly pulled her to the floor and took her again. “I knew exactly what I was doing, do you hear? Exactly! If you think it only takes a few drinks to make me throw myself at a man, then you’re wrong. I wanted you, I thought you wanted me. So if it was a mistake, it was yours.”
“It wasn’t a mistake for me, Ryan.” His voice had softened, but when he reached out to touch her, she jerked back. He let his hand drop to his side and chose his words carefully. “I wanted you; perhaps, I thought, too much. And I wasn’t as gentle with you as I wanted to be. It’s difficult for me to deal with knowing I couldn’t stop myself from having you.”
For a moment she studied him, then brushed tears away with the back of her hand. “Did you want to stop yourself?”
“The point is, I tried and couldn’t. And I’ve never taken a woman with less . . .” He hesitated. “Care,” he murmured. “You’re very small, very fragile.”
Fragile? she thought and lifted a brow. No one had ever called her that before. At another time she might have enjoyed it, but now she felt there was only one way to handle a man like Pierce. “Okay,” she told him and took a deep breath. “You’ve got two choices.”
Surprised, Pierce drew his brows together. “What are they?”
“You can get yourself another room or you can take me to bed and make love to me again.” She took a step toward him. “Right now.”
He met the challenge in her eyes and smiled. “Those are my only choices?”
“I suppose I could seduce you again if you want to be stubborn,” she said with a shrug. “It’s up to you.”
He let his fingers dive into her hair as he drew her closer. “What if we combined two of those choices?”
She gave him a look of consideration. “Which two?”
He lowered his mouth to hers for a soft, lingering kiss. “How about I take you to bed and you seduce me?”
Ryan allowed him to lift her into his arms. “I’m a reasonable person,” she agreed as he walked to the bedroom. “I’m willing to discuss a compromise as long as I get my own way.”
“Miss Swan,” Pierce murmured as he laid her gently on the bed. “I like your style.”
Chapter 9
Ryan’s body ached. Sighing, she snuggled deeper into the pillow. It was a pleasant discomfort. It reminded her of the night—the night that had lasted until dawn.
She hadn’t known she had so much passion to give or so many needs to fill. Each time she had thought herself drained, body and mind, she had only to touch him again, or he her. Strength would flood back into her, and with it the unrelenting demands of desire.
Then they had slept, holding each other as the rosy tones of sunrise had slipped into the room. Drifting awake, clinging to sleep, Ryan shifted toward Pierce, wanting to hold him again.
She was alone.
Confusion had her eyes slowly opening. Sliding her hand over the sheets beside her, Ryan found them cold. Gone? she thought hazily. How long had she been sleeping alone? All of her dreamy pleasure died. Ryan touched the sheets again. No, she told herself and stretched, he’s just in the other room. He wouldn’t have left me alone.
The phone shrilled and jolted her completely awake.
“Yes, hello.” Sh
e answered it on the first ring and pushed her hair from her face with her free hand. Why was the suite so quiet?
“Miss Swan?”
“Yes, this is Ryan Swan.”
“Bennett Swan calling, please hold.”
Ryan sat up, automatically pulling the sheets to her breast. Disoriented, she wondered what time it was. And where, she thought again, was Pierce?
“Ryan, give me an update.”
An update? she repeated silently, hearing her father’s voice. She struggled to put her thoughts into order.
“Ryan!”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“I haven’t got all day.”