I don’t wanna talk with random people or, for that matter, anyone else. Anyone except her. We can talk about anything. It can be as stupid or as serious as we want. I must admit though, it took a bit of time to get up the courage to talk to her today, because the images of her on that mechanical bull are still ingrained in my memory. I took those memories with me into the shower last night and tried desperately to get them out of my head as I came like a freight train. It didn’t fucking work.
Later in the evening, after a few more hours in the pool, Brett walks up towards me with a brunette with massive tits and an equally big arse tucked under his arm. I know for a fact he recently got engaged. He certainly doesn’t give off the ‘I’m taken’ vibe the way he carries on around other women. It’s typical behaviour of the arsehole that he is. I really feel sorry for his girlfriend. Does she even know what she’s getting herself into with this guy? What woman in their right mind would commit to that?
Brett and the brunette are both drinking margaritas. By the sway of his step, I’d say he’s pretty much wasted. Hopefully that means he’ll fuck off to bed soon, so I don’t have to put up with the look of him. Thank Christ he booked his accommodation last minute so he’s not in our room. I’d probably end up shaving his eyebrows off in his sleep.
“What’s up, De Luca?” he says, as if we’re mates. The chick does this stupid thing with her lips, making her look more duck than human. I guess the intelligent ones know to steer clear. This girl? Not so much. I couldn’t even be fucked asking for her name because really I don’t care, and I doubt Brett does either.
“Just takin’ in the Vegas sunshine,” I say, hoping he realises from my tone that I’m not interested in chitchat with him.
“You want a drink?” he asks.
“Nah, I’m good.” I look around, desperately trying to gain the attention of someone, anyone who can save me.
“Not drinking today, huh?”
I’m not even gonna answer that. Clearly he’s been watching me, otherwise why would he say it in such a demeaning tone?
“Don’t be such a pussy, De Luca. As if you can stop yourself.” This horrid cackle of a laugh escapes him. Fuck, I hate this cunt. “Man up and have a drink. You and alcohol are inseparable.”
Is he right? Can I give it up forever?
“I don’t need you fuckin’ telling me what to do, fuckwit.”
“Oooh, a bit testy, are we?”
“Testy enough to re-arrange your face.”
“I haven’t forgotten about Nowra, you know. You almost broke my nose.”
“It hasn’t made any difference to the way your face looks. It’s still fucked. Besides, your pretty fiancée is still on the scene, so I don’t think it’s anything to blubber about.” I stare daggers at him and then at the girl.
“You’re getting married?” she says in a high-pitched voice. With a hard shove to his shoulder, the girl storms off.
“Well done, dickhead,” he snarls.
“Maybe you should go home before you catch a case of raging STDs.”
“I’m not done here. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and whether it’s her or some other bitch, one way or another I’m getting some action. There’s plenty of pussy round here anyway; some rather nice-looking bridesmaids too, if you ask me.”
Motherfucker. He did not just say that. I need to control this rising urge to flatten him. As much as I hate him, this piece of work isn’t gonna see how much he’s riling me up.
“No one asked you a goddamn thing, fucker,” I say, as calm as I can.
“Maybe you should go have a couple of shots, De Luca. You’ll be a hell of a lot more fun to be around. You’re dragging this soirée down.”
I grind my teeth in my jaw and swiftly turn and walk. I’m done with this piece of dog meat. If I stay here any longer, my fist will get a workout on his freckled face, and that’s not fair to Jones or April. I’m being the bigger person here and walking away.
Taking long strides, I approach Jones. “I’m goin’ back to the hotel.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, need to get out of here before I do something I regret.” Like smash Brett’s face until he resembles the elephant man.
“No worries, bud,” he says as he hugs me and slaps me hard on the back. I slap him back just as hard, and he growls, “I think we’ll be another hour or so at this rate. You good?”
“Yeah, fine. Live it up, bachelor boy.”
When I get back to the hotel, I’m alone. All the other boys are still partying on. Thank fuck I don’t have to put up with Brett anymore tonight. He was that close to wearing my fist. Any other time I probably would have hit him, like if I was drunk, but then he probably wouldn’t have said anything. I hate the bastard anyway. Any chance he gets to point out that I’m dirt he revels in.
I crank up the air conditioning, strip down to my boxers, and wander over to the fridge for a cold bottle of water. Fucking Vegas dries me out like no other place I’ve ever been to.
There’s a loud rattle as I pull the small fridge open. A small bottle of Grey Goose Vodka rolls onto the carpet and nudges at my feet.
Oh, fuck. Why not throw yourself at me, you wicked bitch.
I pick it up and survey the bottle. We’re inseparable. Brett’s words haunt me, and that stupid fucking cackle.
I won’t be able to give it up cold turkey and abstain forever. I know myself. I’m too weak when it comes to the booze. It’s been twenty-four days since I’ve had a drink. I’ve surprised even myself, but this is in my blood. I’m following in my father’s footsteps. He couldn’t fight it. What makes me think I’ll be able to?
Sober for the rest of my life is not likely, but what I can do is take it slow. I can have the odd drink here or there, otherwise I’ll be laughed out of fucking town for not being sociable … or a real man. Blokes drink beer, rum, whatever. It’s an Australian tradition, and doing what I do for a job, there are always plenty of celebratory drinks. We work hard and we reward ourselves, and occasionally write ourselves off. Granted, I’ve taken the latter too far on too many occasions.
I twist open the vodka bottle, and take a whiff. There’s the subtle scent of alcohol, luring me to taste it. I know how smooth it is when it rolls down my throat. I know how fast it kicks in my stomach and warms me from the inside.
Just one and then I’ll go to bed. Just one to take the edge off.
I put down the bottle and slide over a short glass. The liquid glugs into the cup as air rushes into the bottle.
I reach for my phone and dial the number … before it’s too late.
“I need you,” I choke out.
“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m about to get in the lift,” Suds says, her tone abrupt.
“Quick.”
“Rocco, grab the room key and meet me out in the hallway, okay?” Her voice is calm, yet I sense the urgency. I know what she’s doing, and it’s a smart play. Get me as far away from the problem as possible.
I put down the glass and swipe the key from next to my wallet. “I’m heading out now,” I inform her, and then hang up.
I take slow steps towards the elevators. Each step is one away from the bottle, and one towards Soph.
The lift dings, and a panting, slightly flustered Soph rushes out. She’s got a loose white sheer thingy over the top of her swimmers with a small bag dangling from her shoulder. Her hair is wild with sunglasses pinned to the top of her head, and she’s wearing thongs. I’ve never been more excited to see her in my life. It dawns on me now that I should’ve put some clothes on.
“This is quite a way to be greeted when you get out of the elevator,” she says, and gives me a quirky smile as she looks me over.
I glance down at my boxers, which are currently housing a decent-sized semi. My cock never understands that there’s a time and a place for that. Clearly, Suds has that effect on me. The only time I’ve been hard today I’ve been around her … not the hoard of bikini-clad chicks by the pool.
; “As much as I’m flattered, I’m guessing this isn’t why you need me?”
That’s debatable.
I shake my head. My mouth forms a fixed line. I can’t even tell her.
She steps forward, the tips of her thongs grazing my big toes. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and she gives me one hell of a bear hug. Her hand slips into mine, and she tugs me in the direction of my room.
I tug her back. Thank fuck she’s here.
When we get to the room, I wave my hand flippantly in the direction of the fridge. The glass is sitting on top of it, with the empty bottle and lid beside it.
Soph puts down her bag makes a beeline for it, picks up the glass and bottle and takes them into the bathroom. I sit on the edge of my bed, which is closest to the bathroom.
Relief trickles into my bloodstream as the alcohol is tipped down the sink and the empty vodka bottle clangs in the bin.
“Gone,” she announces. I collapse back onto the soft mattress and scrape my hands down my face. I can’t believe I couldn’t dispose of it myself. Thank Christ I have Suds to rely on.
The strong light from the bathroom fades as Suds pushes the door to close it. “I’ll be out in a sec. I’m busting for a wee.”
And she reckons I have no filter.
“Sure.” I chuckle.
A few minutes later, Soph emerges. I haven’t moved a muscle. I’m too frightened to. She’s taken off the white top, and has taken her hair out. With the bright light behind her and that white bikini, I swear she looks like an angel. Who am I kidding? She is my angel.
“This your bed?” she asks.
“Yup.” For some reason, my voice breaks when I answer her.
“Get in,” she orders, flicking on the soft lamp beside the bed.
I don’t argue. I slip in under the crisp white covers of the queen-sized bed. She dumps her clothes and bag on the floor and squirms in beside me, our knees knocking together as she faces me.
“Thanks,” I grunt out.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispers, and places her open palm on my bare chest. My skin prickles beneath her warm touch. Before I can grab her hand to keep it there, she moves it under her chin and nuzzles into the pillow.
“If you didn’t come, I would’ve … ah, fuck it. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. After what Brett said, I thought …”
“Is Brett that red-haired arsehole?” she asks. Her eyebrows pull together and she purses her lips, causing creases to form around the outside of her mouth.
“Yeah, that sums him up, alright.”
“And he was giving you shit?”
“Called me a fucking pussy,” I grunt.
“Ha,” she says, and rolls her eyes. “Funny you should say pussy.”
“Why?”
“Karma’s a bitch.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“When you see his face tomorrow, you ask him where exactly he put his hand to be rewarded with that shiner.”
“He fuckin’ touched you?”
“And he paid the price. Not important right now. Roll over,” she says, pushing me.
“Don’t be so fuckin’ bossy.”
“You need to be told,” she says in a low voice and clashes her teeth together at my ear.
This girl …
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ROCCO
The door slams and my eyes fly open. Shit. What time is it? The sun is filtering through the blinds, but it stills seems early.
Two bodies stumble into the room.
“One minute it’s midnight and before you know it, it’s five. Then you blink and it’s six. Bloody casinos are like a time warp,” Stone’s familiar voice says from the entry.
“You got that right,” Jones slurs.
“Shit,” Soph whispers, and pokes me in the ribs.
She pulls the sheet over her head as Stone and Jones approach. I can’t do much to hide her long hair though, and really, as if I could hide her body … those long, slender legs …
“Ha! I thought you might be up to something,” Jones whisper-yells, and jiggles his eyebrows up and down.
“A little privacy, huh?” I say, pointing to the outline of her body.
Jones nods. “Course,” he says, and makes a shh gesture with his finger positioned against his lips.
Both boys do a dramatic tip-toe past my bed. Thankfully, the room is an L-shape, so the other beds are around the corner from mine.
Soph is still under the sheets, her head resting on my chest. I’m hard as an exhaust pipe, under there. If she so much as grazes my boxers I will, without a doubt, explode in my pants.
After a few minutes, the boys’ talking turns to snoring.
“I’d better get back to my room,” she whispers. “I don’t want April to worry.”
“Yeah,” I say in a quiet voice, but really I want to tell her to stay. I feel more comfortable in my own skin when she’s around. How will I cope when she moves out?
“One day at a time,” she says. “We’ll be back in Sydney in twenty-four hours and then you can get back to teaching this duck how to cook.”
This girl is …
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and bring her upper body flush against mine. I smooch her on the lips, and then rest my nose against hers and take in a deep breath. She slips her arm around my waist. Her warm delicate fingers glide over the skin just above the waistband of my boxers. My breath becomes heavier, and inside my head I’m fighting what to do next.
Then comes the fuck it moment.
I press my lips to hers. The slightest moan vibrates from her mouth against mine. I tease at her lips in feather-light strokes. A nip here. A slip of tongue. Bundles of nerves start to come to life. An energy, some kind of foreign feeling is taking over me.
Suds slips her tongue against mine. Her touch is that of caution, so I pull back only a little to give her space.
Her fingers dig into my flesh, and she pushes her hips into me. When she pushes her hand to my chest and shoves me onto my back, I know I’ve fucked up. She raises herself on one elbow, and hovers close enough to my face that her hot breath warms my lips.
I smooth my hands up her arms and over her collarbone, raking my fingers across the nape of her neck, tugging on her hair. She leans down, her long locks teasing at my jaw. With a calculated lick of my lower lip, I make sure she catches a glimpse of the stud.
The hesitation in her eyes has vanished. All that’s left is a hunger that I know I haven’t been imagining.
Using my grip on her for leverage, I lift my shoulders off the bed and draw her close. Our lips meet in the middle. This time, the touch of her lips against mine is more persuasive, the energy between us more potent.
The smooth strokes of our tongues, the flicker of the metal rod, and the sharp intake of breath as our chests expand against each other has me floating … transported. It’s like no other high.
I don’t kiss. Not like this. It’s intimate; it’s revealing … for both of us.
I don’t want it to end.
“Stay,” I whisper against her lips, and then probe my tongue against hers once more. I roll her onto her side and press my boxers against her, allowing her to feel what she’s doing to me. She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t engage either.
I close my eyes. I know that now’s not the time or the place. I’m sharing a room with my mates, but that’s not my biggest worry. I’m not in the right headspace. I’m not free from the demons dragging me down. I’ve got some work to do, and now I’m even more determined to fight.
Suds rests her head on the pillow beside me, and directs those brilliant green eyes at me. With more self-control than I’m capable of in this moment, she presses her closed mouth to mine.
My phone dings, breaking the spell between us.
She takes in a deep breath and flattens her hand in the centre of my chest.
“I … I should go,” she whispers, and then sneezes. I hold her hand to my chest. I wanna go all alpha on her and tell her no. Tell
her she can’t leave. The thing is, I won’t ever boss her when it comes to that.
“Yeah,” I grumble.
A muffled fart cries out in the distance. It sounds like a guinea pig is being strangled.
“Ewww,” she whispers against my chest. Suds lifts her head and stifles her laughter with her hand over her mouth.
There are signs coming from everywhere in this Vegas hotel room. A sneeze. My phone. A fart. If another bloke in here farts, I’ll grab the fire extinguisher and spray them like we’re having a white Christmas.
I get the message. It’s time to break up this lip party, but as I live and breathe, I want this woman’s mouth again … and not just on my lips. I want it everywhere. I want to tell her I’m not done with her, not by a long shot. I want her in my bed.
I want her in my life, not just because I need her. I see something with us, and it’s playing on my mind. I want this girl …
The problem is, does she need me?
Suds creeps out of bed and pulls her top over her swimmers. She slips the long strap of her bag over her head, so it crosses against her body, drawing my eyes to her tits.
She leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “Don’t forget …” she murmurs, her eyes sparkling.
“What?” I ask, slipping my hand into hers.
“To ask your mate Brett what happened to him.”
I shake my head as my body jerks in silent laughter. “With great pleasure,” I whisper, and reluctantly let her go. She gathers up her thongs and sunnies and lets herself out.
I wrap the sheet around me, drinking in the remnants of her sweet scent, which clings to the linen.
Why didn’t she want the guys to see her? Is it because we’re getting close? Is she embarrassed at the thought of being seen here with me?
Be fucked if I know why, but one thing I do know is that something is happening. Slowly, Suds is weaving her way into a place I thought I’d never let another woman into. I just hope I’m letting her in for the right reasons.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SOPHIE
When I get back to my room, I tiptoe inside. You could hear a pin drop in here, it’s that quiet. Thankfully the thick curtains have been closed, so you’d barely know it was morning. I gently place my things beside my bed, tug back the sheets and climb in.
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