Vegas Vacation (Destination Desire)

by Crystal Jordan

  Their eyes met, locked, and for one heady moment she thought he might kiss her. Warmth spiraled deep inside her at the very idea and settled low in her belly. He still held her hand when they straightened, his palm rough with calluses that stimulated her softer flesh. She licked her lips, tried to come up with something to say, but her wits had deserted her. The intent focus of his gaze moved to her mouth, and his fingers tightened on hers.

  She couldn’t prevent the way her body reacted—her nipples beading, her body heating with insidious need. “Finn, I…”

  Anne chose that moment to hustle up to them, luggage in tow. Meg jerked her hand away from Finn and took the handle on her bag while Anne started talking. “Oh, good, you have your stuff. Carla’s already hitting the slots, can you believe it?”

  “Yes,” Finn and Meg echoed at the same time. He chuckled, slinging a huge backpack onto his shoulders. It looked beaten up, as if he’d hiked across some rough terrain. He had the well-toned body to make the idea believable.

  Meg plucked at her stained, gummy shirt and a waft of alcohol hit her nose. “Let’s round her up and catch the shuttle. I’m ready to get to Caesar’s Palace. Now.”

  It took bribing Carla with a round of drinks to get her off the slots and into the van. Then Ed, the eighth grade science teacher, broke out the flask of whiskey, passed it around, and they had a party shuttle to the hotel. When Ed handed the flask to the English gigglers, he managed to slosh some of the booze onto Meg. Seriously, it was Teachers Gone Wild, and the lushes were aiming for her. Rum, Coke, and whiskey. Great. Just great. Meg clenched her fists and told herself she was a non-violent person as the amber liquid spread across her chest and oozed between her breasts. She glared at Anne, who flinched and turned to flirt outrageously with the shuttle driver, presumably so she didn’t have to talk to Meg.

  After they arrived, it took ten minutes to pry Anne away from the guy. She’d scored his number and a date for that night, and by then the rest of the teachers had staggered into Caesar’s Palace to check-in for the week. They’d scattered when Meg and Anne finally got to the reception desk. Meg handed over their registration confirmation and breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, very soon, she would have that shower she craved.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any more clean rooms available at the moment. Housekeeping is still working on them.” The woman gave back the confirmation paperwork and offered a helpless shrug and a sympathetic smile, which turned into a slight grimace at Meg’s stained shirt. “Check-in isn’t technically until four p.m., but you can come back in a little while to see if anything is ready. You can leave your bags with the bell stand in the meantime.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Hope crumbling, Meg felt her lips actually shake. It was one o’clock. Three whole hours until she was guaranteed a place to stay.

  Anne tried arguing with the woman, but Meg took a step back and turned away. What a disaster. She stank. She was covered in cola goo. And her shirt was still damp with whiskey—not exactly how she wanted to wander around in the Nevada heat. She really, really wanted to be home right now, where she had access to a bathroom. This vacation was a huge mistake.

  Frustrated tears stung in her eyes—or maybe it was the alcohol fumes rising from her shirt.

  “What’s going on?” Finn appeared out of nowhere, ducking down so he could look at her face. “Meg?”

  “I don’t want to be here.” Her voice actually wobbled when she spoke, and a flush scorched her cheeks. Emotional meltdown in front of the hottest guy she’d ever met. Yep, it really was possible for this trip to get worse. She blinked fast and glanced away. “They don’t have a room ready for us yet. Looks like the rest of the group got to the ones they had.”

  Anne stomped up, fire blazing in her eyes. “Well, they’ve given us a free dinner at one of the hotel restaurants for the inconvenience, but there are apparently no rooms to be had right this second. At all. They’re booked. What the hell? No rooms in Vegas?”

  “It’s a fight weekend. Heavyweight boxing.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Some of the guys got tickets.”

  “I’m going too,” Anne said. “I just didn’t think it would suck up all the rooms in town.”

  Meg spoke through clenched teeth. “Goody for you.”

  “I’m not one of the people going. I have other ideas for my time here.” Finn’s tone was so virtuous it made her snort. He looked her over and winced. “Sorry Ed got you with the whiskey, too. I was all the way in the back of the van, so I couldn’t grab him in time. Why don’t you bring your stuff up to my room, use my shower, and change clothes?”

  Meg sighed. The promise of a clean outfit made it the most appealing offer she’d ever had. Naked in Finn’s shower was weird, but she’d take what she could get. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Sounds like a plan.”

  What might have been triumph flashed in his gaze, and his smile was dazzling. “Great.”

  Anne stepped in front of her, her expression concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Do you have a better option?” Meg held her arms out and gestured down at her ruined garments. “Tracking anyone else down takes time, where I’m still gross.”

  “True.” Anne ran her hands through her short hair. “Want me to come with you or let you do your own thing?”

  “I love you, honey, but as few people as possible would be awesome right now.” Meg waved her off, wishing for nothing more than to be somewhere quiet. “Go have fun with Carla. Keep her from drinking and gambling her next paycheck away.”

  Anne grimaced. “Will do.”

  It didn’t take long to get to Finn’s room, which worked for Meg. The sooner she could shower, the better she’d feel. And she’d really love to get some lunch. “I’m starving.”

  “Me, too.” He opened the door and motioned her into the room. After setting her suitcase on the luggage rack for her, he shrugged out of his backpack and dumped it on the end of the bed. “Once you’re showered, we can find the gang and get some food.”

  She wrinkled her nose, unzipping her bag to root around for some clean clothes. “They’re probably eating right now. After they hosed me down, the jerks. Remind me to never, ever go anywhere outside of work with this bunch again. You all seemed so normal when we were at school, but now?”

  “Hey.” He caught her shoulders in his strong hands, frowning at her. “Don’t go lumping me into this bunch. I’m trying to help, not off partying.”

  Tingles broke down her arms at his touch, and she swayed toward him just a little. She tried to inject some teasing into her tone. “My hero. Thank you.”

  His lips curved in a small grin, but he didn’t let her go. “You’re welcome. I just don’t want you to think I turn into a jackass who ditches my friends the second the chance to drink and gamble comes up.”

  “I don’t imbibe much, which is probably why this makes me even crankier.” She made a face. “I didn’t even get sloshed and I still got sloshed all over.”

  Somehow, he was even closer, and she didn’t know if he had moved or if she had. His heat wrapped around her, and it felt far too nice. A masculine scent filled her nose, the smell that was uniquely Finn. He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry this has sucked for you so far. Maybe I can make it up to you.”

  “I don’t think anything could make this trip better. It was a mistake to let Anne talk me into this. They ganged up on me, Anne and our two other best friends.” She shut her eyes, sudden exhaustion hitting her, and she let herself lean into his solid strength. Just for a minute. He felt good, comforting, even though it was foolish to acknowledge it.

  She sighed when his lips brushed over hers. It was soft and sweet, a light caress. He sipped at her mouth, and slow heat unfurled within her. She set her hands against his chest to push him away, as she knew she should. But she couldn’t make herself do it. Not yet. Her fingers itched with the need to stroke, to explore. The fabric of his T-shirt was soft, clinging to the hard plan
es of his muscles underneath.

  He licked his way into her mouth, and she gave a low moan as his taste hit her tongue. Coffee and hot man. She coasted her hands over his chest, and he shuddered when she brushed his nipple. It beaded tight for her, an irresistible temptation. His fingers clenched on her shoulders and she found herself backed against the closed door. The feel of him—all of him—shocked a gasp out of her. Her softer curves molded to his every hard angle. His cock prodded her belly, and his kiss became a rough demand for response.

  Excitement exploded inside her, a sudden riptide that dragged her under. Her sex went hot and wet in moments, an insistent craving. Undulating against him, she tried to find some relief, but the friction only increased her agony. Her nipples thrust against the lace of her bra, which chafed her sensitive flesh. He wedged his leg between hers, the heavy muscles there pressing against her pussy.

  Oh. God.

  Moisture flooded her sex and her heart hammered in her chest. The roar of blood in her veins drowned out any other sound in the room. She arched into him, biting his lower lip and thrusting her tongue into his mouth to mate with his. He groaned, a sound of unrestrained need, and it only enticed her more. His hands bracketed her ribs, one sliding up to cup her breast. She gasped against his lips when his fingers caught her nipple through her shirt, rolling the tight tip.

  She sobbed into his mouth, her hips pushing forward, grinding her clit over the hard muscles of his thigh. The subtle rocking of his body against hers managed to stimulate every single one of her nerve endings. Shoving her hands into his hair, she held him closer, kissed him deeper. She’d never been so turned on in her life, and all she wanted was more. More, more, more. When he flexed his leg, riding it against her sex, she felt the first throb of orgasm rip through her. Yes. God, yes. A few more seconds and she’d catapult over that edge.

  He jerked himself from her arms, staggering back a couple of steps.

  Shock punched through her, and she sagged against the door, her knees weak. “Finn?”

  “Not like this.” He shook his head. His chest bellowed, lust flushing his face. “If we ever fuck, it’ll be because we’re both sure we want it, not because we can’t think straight. There are a lot fewer regrets that way. I never want you to regret anything we do together.”

  Sanity returned in slow degrees. She dragged in a breath, tried to think of something else to talk about while her body ached with unquenched hunger. “Now your shirt is stained too.”

  Brown splotches of whiskey had seeped from her clothes to his, they’d been pressed so tightly together. He made an impatient noise, jerked the shirt over his head, and lobbed it into a corner of the room. “There, fixed. Now, will you go take a shower?”

  The sight of him bared to the waist made her brain short-circuit. Tanned skin stretched taut over pure sinew, with just a sprinkling of springy curls. He was even more beautiful that she’d imagined, and she’d imagined him more often than she’d like to admit. She wanted to lick his small, flat nipples, wanted to slide her tongue along the ridges of his abs and follow the thin trail of hair from his navel downward. His erection tented the front of his shorts, and she wanted to see that too.

  “Jesus, don’t look at me like that, Meg,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Go. Take. A. Shower.”

  Her sluggish mind tried to grope for what he was talking about. “Shower?”

  His laugh was a harsh crack of sound. “Meg, I’m hanging on by a thread here. I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer. Go now or I’ll fuck you up against the wall. We won’t even make it to the bed.”

  That image formed so clearly in her mind, her pussy clenched in need. Him over her, in her, moving fast and rough until they both came. She wanted that so badly she shuddered with the desire, her body primed for sex. The desperation that rocketed through her was enough to shock her back to reality.

  “I—I should shower.” She grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and stumbled toward the bathroom, not sure if she was making the smartest or stupidest decision of her life.

  “Fuck.” Finn flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His cock was an iron bar in his shorts, an incessant ache he couldn’t do a damn thing about. Jesus Christ, he hoped he was playing this right, because if he’d just given up his one and only chance to have sex with Meg, he might throw himself out of his thirtieth-story window.

  The spray of water sounded from the bathroom. He tried not to picture it sliding in hot beads over her naked body and failed. His cock jerked and he forced himself to get up before he used his hand to give himself some relief. He grabbed his backpack, took out his clothes, put them in the dresser, and then tossed his spare shoes and empty bag into the closet and shut the door.

  The shower had stopped running, but no Meg yet, so he found the remote and turned on ESPN. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that she was nude, wet, and only a few yards away. He settled on the mattress and propped himself against the headboard.

  She poked her head out of the bathroom, her hair sleeked to her scalp. He could tell she was only wrapped in a towel, though he knew she’d taken clothes in with her.

  He straightened. “Did you need something?”

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she cringed when she finally met his gaze. “I…uh…I forgot something in my suitcase.”

  “Okay, let me grab it for you.” He swung his legs off the bed and stood.

  “No, no. That’s okay, I can—”

  “It’s no problem.” He walked over and flipped open the top of her bag. “What did you need?”

  She sighed. “I forgot a bra, Finn. You don’t need to get it for me.”

  The woman was trying to kill him. His hard-on had just started to subside and she brought on the skimpy lingerie. Swallowing, he scanned the contents of her bag and tried to keep his voice level when he spoke. “Did you want the white lacy one on top or should I dig deeper for a different one?”

  When he glanced back, he saw her face had flushed bright red, her eyes were squeezed shut, and she leaned her forehead against the doorjamb, looking as if she hoped the floor might open up and swallow her whole. “The white one is fine, thanks.”

  The humor of the situation got to him and he hooked the bra up by a strap and strolled over to her. He couldn’t help grinning impishly when she opened her eyes. “I could make so many very suggestive remarks right now.”

  “I’m glad you can restrain yourself, Walsh.” She stuck her tongue out at him and snatched the bit of lace out of his hand, slamming the door closed while he laughed. He heard her giggling, and the sound was sweet.

  At least that had broken any tension there might have been after making out. A little equilibrium was good. She stepped from the bathroom fully dressed—a shame, but better for his sanity—and forked her fingers through her hair to loosen the curls.

  “Okay, food,” she said. “Should we see if anybody else is free or just go by ourselves?”

  Far more than he should, he liked that she spoke of them as a unit. That was what he wanted out of this week. He just had to play his cards right. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a text to Anne. Did you guys have lunch already? Meg’s clean and we’re starving.

  Her reply came back a moment later, making his phone vibrate. We’re fed. Got dragged down the Strip. Go eat! Meg wanted that Bobby Flay place.

  Meg came and peered over his shoulder. “Yeah, Mesa Grill. I looked into reviews of nice restaurants after Anne talked me into coming along. Right now, I don’t care about nice. I just want food.”

  His phone vibrated again. Another text from Anne. Be good to my girl or I’ll kick your ass!

  “My friends are as subtle as a sledgehammer.” Snorting, Meg went to pick up her purse and hooked it over her shoulder.

  He chuckled and typed in a quick reply to Anne as he followed Meg out the door. Duly noted on the ass kicking. Meet us at check-in at 4?

  They rode the elevator to the ground floor and Anne gave him the gre
en light for meeting. Good, he had a couple of hours alone with Meg. This couldn’t have worked out more perfectly if he’d planned it. “Anne will meet us at registration at four to get your room. There’s not a huge rush now, is there?”

  “No.” She grinned, slapping a hand over her growling stomach. “The only rush is for lunch.”

  They had to weave their way through the slot machine strobe lights, the cheering and booing at the card tables. They kept going and passed under a strange indoor floating barge with what he thought might be Cleopatra’s head carved into the prow, but eventually they found the Mesa Grill. Luckily, there was no wait for a table. Their server brought them bread and they dove on it like ravenous animals.

  “Oh, man.” Meg sighed. “This is either the best thing I’ve ever eaten or I’m famished. Could be both.”

  The bread was in tiny rolls rather than a single loaf, and every little nugget was a different flavor. He popped one into his mouth. It had a coarse corn bread consistency with a kick of jalapeno pepper. Nice. “No, it’s pretty damn good bread.”

  “That’s what we like to hear,” said the waiter as he returned to the table, a smile on his face. “Can I answer any questions for you about the menu?”

  “No, I think we’re ready to order.” Meg’s cheeks dimpled when she grinned. “I’ll try the New Mexican spiced pork tenderloin sandwich. With a cactus pear iced tea.”

  “And I’d like the Ancho chile-honey glazed salmon. I’ll take an iced tea too.” Finn handed over his menu.

  “Very good. I’ll bring your drinks right out.” The server took Meg’s menu as well and bustled away.

  She shifted in her seat, glanced around the restaurant, and looked a bit uncomfortable. “So…when we get back, the principal wants to send me to a training for—”

  “Hey, none of that.” Finn quickly cut her off. “We are on vacation. No talking about work. Anything else is fair game, but not work.”