by Amy Redwood
“That must have hurt,” she said as they stepped out into the open air. “Are you all right?”
No, I’m not. “I’m fine. You’re staying at the…?”
“Where do you stay?” she countered, a laugh in her voice.
He suppressed a groan, wondering why she spoke differently, too. He remembered vaguely her girly voice—when had squeaky turned smoky? He signaled a cab.
She gave his shoulder a push. “Brian, I asked where you’re staying.”
“The Bellagio.” And I hope you stay at the other end of the strip.
“Same here, and by the way,” she said, “you haven’t congratulated me to my birthday yet.” She closed her hand around his shoulder.
Her wide smile looked suspiciously like he missed something, but he couldn’t say what. Maybe he should have bought her a present? “That’s thoughtful of Randall to give you a birthday get-away.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” A self-satisfied expression settled on her face.
Spoiled brat. “Happy birthday, Suzie.” He winced, hearing the definite lack of enthusiasm in his words. God, get a grip. He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, but it was enough to taste her smooth skin and inhale her perfume. Damn.
She stared at him and a flicker went through her eyes. He wondered if she, too, remembered how she had frenched him all those years ago. Nah, never.
He racked his brain for some small talk, because the silence between them became uncomfortable, but decided to take action instead and signaled again for a taxi.
He breathed a sigh of relief when one stopped. “The cab stopped,” he said, glad to be on solid conversation ground.
“I can see that.”
The smile she gave him was disconcerting, and he searched her face, trying to find the girl she had once been, when she said, “I’m hungry, can we go eat somewhere?”
He opened the cab’s door and motioned her inside. “Sure, what do you want?”
“Burger will do.” She slid into the backseat, revealing even more leg. “Or maybe ice cream?”
Ice cream? “On me.” Thank god, she’s still a kid. He closed the door, and then sat next to the driver. At least he could put her naked legs out of sight for a while, even though he couldn’t get them out of his mind.
Chapter Two
Suzie had taken the seat opposite to him at the table in the ‘50s style diner and was in the progress of demolishing a triple deluxe burger. Brian couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
“What can a girl do around here to have some fun?” She finished the last bits of burger, and then grabbed the tall Coke next to her plate. She sucked on the straw.
He stared at the thick white and red striped straw, her full lips around it, and how the Coke came up the straw. He blinked when she smacked her lips.
He reached over the table and took the glass out of her hands. “Soft drinks aren’t healthy.” Perfectly true, also, he couldn’t take more lip-action.
“I’m old enough to take care of myself,” she said, and placed the Coke closer to her plate again. “Besides, it’s my birthday. I’m allowed to do anything I want.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Well, what do you want do? I’m fairly sure you can’t be hungry anymore.” The sight of her wolfing down that burger had been a weird thing to watch—there was something about a woman with a healthy appetite that turned him on. Wrong. She wasn’t a woman. She was Randall’s sister. He was just in need of some action.
He exhaled, really looking forward to meeting the blonde in the bar at eleven. He checked the inside pocket of his jacket, feeling the packet of condoms, and a pair of thin metal cuffs padded with soft leather. He’d bought the cuffs on a whim, in case his date was up for something kinkier. But he wouldn’t complain, vanilla would do, too.
Suzie had grabbed her Coke again and regarded him with a frown as if he were a difficult school assignment.
“How’s college?” School should be a safe enough topic to talk about with Randall’s sister.
“College?” She sat before him, her shoulders shaking with laughter, making her chest do interesting things.
He closed his hands around the glass of iced orange-juice he’d ordered for himself. “Feel like sharing why you’re laughing?” he asked, disgruntled, “because I don’t get it.”
“Hello? Exactly how old do you think I am?”
“Twenty?”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She sucked on the straw again.
He went still, watching her mouth. Fuck. Was she doing it on purpose?
“I’m twenty-five, and for your information, I have a Master’s in computer science.”
He let this sink in for a moment, and then drained most of the juice in one go. Okay, so she was smart, too. Smart, sexy, eight years his junior, and goddammit, Randall’s sister.
“You’re not afraid to brag,” he said, but couldn’t help smiling at her smug expression.
“Nope.”
“Randall helped you a great deal with your studies, I reckon.”
“No, he did not,” she said, her voice a tad chilly, “and I turned down his offer to help me get a good position.”
“He’s well-connected, but I guess that’s not news for you.” He fixed on her face and almost admired the stubbornness he found in her hazel eyes.
“I finished my studies with honors.” She stretched her arms behind her back. “I have enough offers to pick from.”
He stared at her breasts. She couldn’t possibly run around braless. He squinted his eyes, wishing for x-ray vision. “I could make you an offer,” he said without thinking, took his gaze off her breasts and sipped orange juice. His throat was suddenly too dry.
“Yes, you can make me an offer. I don’t mean a job, though.” She shot him a glance, and he felt like a racehorse being judged if it was up to par. He choked on the juice and coughed.
“You okay?” She reached across the table and placed her slender fingers on his hand.
Make her an offer? For a moment, he admired how her dark hand contrasted with his pale fingers. Her fingernails were cut short, not painted, which was at odds with the rest of her look. With a twinge of regret, he pulled his hand away. “What are you talking about?”
“I want to do something exciting,” she said, smiling. “I want a ride.”
“Ride?” He tried to stop his thought process. His mind jumped to very wrong conclusions all of its own, but then realization dawned. “As in roller coaster?”
“That’s the ticket.” She jumped up and headed to the door.
He sat at the table, unable to get up, staring at her bouncing out the door, her short skirt swinging around her hips. After a quick glance around, he noted that he wasn’t the only guy staring after her. He growled. Randall would kill him if he let some seedy guy make a pass at her.
He threw twenty dollars on the table and checked the time. It was close to seven, which meant four more hours with Suzie. As far as he was concerned, the end of this day couldn’t come soon enough. He rolled his neck experimentally. Finally, his headache was gone. He could only pray that the blonde would be in the bar—he had every intention to make it worth her while.
Suzie waved to him through the glass doors. Roller coaster, he thought with a sudden lurch in the stomach. Damn, Randall. How could he send his sister to Vegas? How could he send her to him?
* * * * *
Susannah walked out of the diner, feeling Brian’s gaze follow her. She could hardly breathe. She hadn’t been this nervous since… No, she’d never experienced this kind of pulsating edginess. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and wondered if the nail-biting tension inside her showed on her face. God, I hope not.
During the last ten years, there had never been more than a couple of months when Brian’s picture would appear in a newspaper or she heard someone mentioning his name. It grew worse during her time at the university, where other students had actually asked her after him, knowing that he was her brother’s close fri
end.
Brian was a celebrity in the information technology world. A poster child for every nerd—only Brian didn’t look particularly nerdy, which had made him a favorite with her fellow female students.
She calmed her breath, but her heart still beat too fast. All the newspapers in the world hadn’t prepared her for the real him. He was a stranger, yet familiar, and she wanted him so bad, she couldn’t sit still.
She’d thought of nothing else but him during the flight, and of the odds against her. When she’d seen him standing at the airport, searching for her, looking annoyed and disheveled, she had found it suddenly impossible that this man waited for her. I’ll get him, she’d vowed and, unable to resist the temptation, pressed herself against his back.
Well, his reaction so far disappointed, except for the dropped cup, but maybe he was just that clumsy. With a little more time, he would notice that she wasn’t a teen anymore. She simply needed more time to work on him. She glanced back into the diner. He sat at the table, the expression on his face even more annoyed than before.
She waved through the glass doors until he noticed her. “What took you so long?” she asked when he finally stepped outside, but he kept on walking, gaze glued to the ground, hands shoved into his jeans, his shoulders hunched. She rolled her eyes and followed him.
They walked along the strip as the sun streaked the sky a pale pink and yellow. She looked around, drinking in the madness that was Vegas. Against the shrill lights, blinking noises, and the general excitement, he was morose company.
“You’ll see,” she said, breaking the silence, “the ride is going to be fun.” She loved roller coasters. Or any other kind of fun ride that would give her this swooping sensation in her stomach—the fear when climbing up and the sound of her own scream while speeding down.
“Fun? I don’t think so.” He shot her a scowl.
Walking next to him, she noted that he wasn’t exceptionally tall, rather average. Still, he was a bit taller than her in spite of the neck-breaking heels she wore. She glanced to his rear and broad back. It wasn’t a bad sight at all.
“So, Brian, what are you doing here in Vegas?” She gave him an encouraging smile. Maybe talking about his job would lighten him up.
“Work,” he said, walking faster.
“Can you be a bit more specific?”
“Convention yesterday, meeting tomorrow.”
“Important meeting?”
“Very.”
“How interesting.” She gave up. He didn’t like to talk about his business. Damn. If anything, he looked even more depressed.
But even in this state, he was hot. His dark green eyes, his five o'clock shadow, his messed up dark hair. She wanted his rough cheeks rasped against her face, rasped against her thighs. She wanted to run her hands over his body and make him hard. And before the night was over, she wanted to know every inch of him.
She stifled a gasp as a quick sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her body. If he wanted to take her now, he wouldn’t need to bother with foreplay. Jeez, why he didn’t notice that she almost came just thinking about him eluded her.
Chill, he’s just a guy. I know how to make them nervous, how to get them into bed. The outfit she wore was spanking new; she had bought it before the flight. She’d never paid more for less fabric. It was the shortest skirt and the tightest blouse she’d the nerve to wear, and she enjoyed the glances men cast her as they passed her by.
Brian, though, wasn’t looking. He wasn’t even talking to her. How could he not look at her legs in this outfit or stare at her tits under this blouse? He was so cool she could chop him into ice cubes. Maybe she wasn’t his type. Maybe he would look at her if she were blonde and skinny and flat-chested… She grew dizzy as the thought hit. Damn it, girl, get a grip. She wanted him, she’d wanted him for ten years, and she would be damned if she couldn’t thaw him.
“Brian, have you exhausted your voice by speaking at the convention or is silent brooding your specialty?”
He tripped over his feet, and then swore under his breath. Great, she got his attention.
“Suzie, your brother asked me to keep an eye on you. He said nothing about small talk.”
She groaned inwardly, getting the vague impression her email backfired in an unexpected way. “Call me Susannah.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt.
She could have talked to a wall for all his reaction. And his expression was back to being a silent ice block, but she knew that this wasn’t the real him.
She’d seen him on TV, if only a couple of times last year. He’d been full of life, explaining his visions with words and hands. After these rare events, he’d been the stranger in her fantasies going down on her, licking her into oblivion while her vibrator had done the real work. She stopped walking, partly because the thought of him between her legs made her quiver, but mainly because they had reached the Stratosphere Tower.
“I want this ride.” She pointed up.
He paled. “Up there?” He gazed into the sky, exposing his neck.
She licked her lips and tilted her head. If she leaned forward, she could kiss the hollow of his throat or the pulsing vein on his neck. A small moan escaped her before she could stop it. His green gaze snapped back to her face. He stared at her mouth, his face unreadable, and she thought about how he would be in bed.
“I heard it’s the best ride and the best view,” she said, wondering if he preferred to be on top. God, I hope not. I’d like to have him under me. Thinking about having sex with him was better then having sex with other men. She pressed her thighs together and shivered as another sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her body.
“Best view?” he asked, mocking her voice. “Yeah, right, and you can enjoy that on your own.” He crossed his arms.
“No way.” The blow she’d aimed against his arm surprised him as well as her. She’d hit too hard, and he looked at her with a slightly stunned expression. “It’s my birthday, and I want you—“ I want you to touch me. She bit her lip. “I want you to come with me.”
“No.” He glared at her, his jaw set.
”Don’t be a chicken shit.”
“Listen Suzie, you won’t speak to me like that.”
“No, you listen.” She pushed her finger in his chest, angry that he still called her Suzie and angrier that she couldn’t do with him as she pleased. “Stop talking as if you were my brother. Come on!” She grabbed his hand—and for a second, she feared he would shake her off—but then, reluctantly, he let her drag him after her. Small victories. She smiled as he closed his hand tighter around hers, the feeling as intimate as if he’d kissed her.
* * * * *
Suzie slipped her hand into his, so warm and sure. He was too stunned to react. Her touch ran up his arm in little vibrations, and he closed his fingers tighter around her hand. He simply didn’t find the strength to stop her as she dragged him inside the tower. She held onto his hand inside the elevator as they sped up, and she didn’t let him go while they waited in the cue on top of the tower. She almost crushed his fingers as if she feared he would bolt. He heard people screaming. The wind whipped in his face, and he knew his life ended here, in Vegas, with Randall’s sister holding his hand.
“It’s called Insanity.” Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“Your second name,” he mumbled, holding onto her hand for dear life, focusing on the feel of her body next to him instead of giving into the panic rising in his chest.
“We’re next.” She tugged at his arm, moving along in the cue, and he looked down at their joined hands. She’d nice hands. He looked up her arm. Nice shoulders, too. She bumped into him, laughing in his face. She had a really nice mouth. With a worrying realization, he noticed that he liked to hold her hand, liked to watch her laughing face. The panic in his chest grew stronger.
“It’s fun, I promise.” She pushed him into a seat, and then took the one next to him.
“You’re right, the view is amazing,” he managed to say
as he caught sight of her legs, just before the ride started.
He was spun around, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and then he was pulled out over the edge of the tower, defying gravity and spinning around faster still, and there was nothing but a free fall under him. Closing his eyes, he waited for his end to come, but only heard Suzie screaming with delight. After half an eternity, the ride was over.
“Let’s do it again!”
“Over my dead body.” He climbed out of the ride, his legs shaking, and grabbed a handrail behind him. How could she have fun when it scared the living hell out of him? He adjusted his thoughts about Randall’s sister—she was a crazy adrenaline junkie and owned the look, too.
Her curls were a mess, her skirt seemed to have shrunken, and he imagined the dark triangle between her legs and the pink lips if he would spread those thighs. The blouse did a poor job at hiding her stiff nipples. He got hard by just thinking about her naked. Damn, she looked as if someone had just fucked her—happy and all flushed and glowing.
“Did you like it, too?” she asked, raking her hands through her hair, making it messier still.
He groaned. Her question fitted the images in his head all to well. “I like that I’m still breathing.” The panic in his chest was gone, instead he felt incredibly alive. Even the air tasted sweeter. Nothing like fear to make you realize that you’re still alive.
“Just one more time, please?” She jumped up and down, her eyes begging him for another ride.
Somebody should exhaust her thoroughly so she would stop bouncing. The movement of her breasts under her blouse drove him mad. The wind tugged at her clothes, lifting up her skirt. He caught a glimpse of a pair of black, sheer panties. What had he done to deserve this? With two long steps, he stood in front of her.
“Stop jumping around, you’re driving me crazy,” he said, wishing he could kiss her.
“In a good way?” She took another step toward him.
He grasped her shoulder, her skin warm under his hands, and she went still as he leaned forward. “No, not good.”