Touching Sin (Vegas Sin Book 1)

by J. Saman

  “This is nice,” she says, reaching in to touch the glowing blue water. “And warm. It’s like a bath.”

  “Unfortunately, it gets like that in the summer. The sun heats it all day.”

  “Vegas feels hotter than Dallas, and Dallas gets plenty hot.”

  “Then this should help cool you down.” I hand her the bowl of ice cream and then I take her hand and lead her over to a lounge chair. We sit, staring out at the lights of the strip while we eat in companionable silence. I don’t have anything to fill it right now and I think she’s there with me. We’ve breached the gap instead of falling into the abyss. I know her. I know her story, for the most part. I know who she is, and she knows who I am, and we’re still here, in this together.

  “I have to leave town,” she whispers and my heart sinks. Maybe I was wrong about that last thought. “The longer I stay, the more vulnerable I am. The more vulnerable you are.”

  I think on that for a moment. Let it settle. When I realize I don’t give a shit, at least about me, I say, “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She sighs, and it sounds like longing. It sounds like heartbreak. “I don’t want to leave, either.”

  “I can keep you safe, Sunshine. I can. You just have to trust me.” She shakes her head, her chin trembling and her green eyes growing glassy with her unshed tears. “Stay with me. Don’t go.” I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to see me.

  “Jake,” she whispers, but I cut off her protest with my mouth.

  I kiss her. Hell, I kiss her like I’ve never kissed a woman before. Because this is the kiss. The one that changes everything between us. I slide my tongue against hers, invading her mouth, tasting what can only be described as pure heaven. I command every inch of her as my fingers thread through her hair and down her body, cupping her ass. I lift her, moving her over the arms of the loungers until she’s straddling me.

  “Please,” she begs and that word, coming from her sweet mouth, does something to me. It makes me fucking insane. It makes me hers.

  One of my hands tangle in her hair, holding the back of her head, the other is on her waist, but I feel myself trembling against her. I’m trembling. The sensation so completely foreign, then I realize she is also trembling, because this is so much more than kissing and touching.

  “Please what, baby? Tell me. I’ll give you anything you want.”

  She draws back and searches my eyes before she rolls her hips slowly into my rock-hard cock. My eyes close momentarily as pleasure surges through me.

  “You, Jake. I want you.”

  I grab the back of her head and slam her down, our lips crashing together. It’s messy and hot, all teeth and lips and tongues. I want to consume her. I want to claim every inch of her body. Her mind. Her heart. She’s mine. And I protect what’s mine.

  “Fiona,” I breathe against her.

  She shakes her head. “Mia.”

  “No.” I pull back to meet at me her eyes again, holding her face in my hands. “When we’re alone, like this, you’re Fiona. Or Sunshine. Or maybe Fi, because that’s kind of cute and somehow fits you.”

  She blinks at me. “I’m not sure I want to be Fiona Foss anymore. I certainly don’t want to be Fiona Vaughn. I like being Mia Jones. I like being your Sunshine.”

  “Fiona Ramsey-Foss—” Because I will not call her Vaughn “—is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The most incredible woman I’ve ever met. She’s so fucking strong. So much stronger than she realizes or gives herself credit for. You should always want to be her. Always.”

  A tear rolls down her cheek and I reach up to swipe it away. This is not about tears. This is about her and she needs to understand that I mean absolutely every word I’m saying. “You mesmerize me, Fiona. You’ve woken me up and brought me back to life. There is no going back now.”

  “I’m a mess,” she half-sobs.

  But I’m smiling. Because this is one of those moments. One of the goods ones. One that should not be overlooked or brought down by crying. “Good. Because I am, too.”

  She smiles back at me and I swear, she’s never looked more stunning. My breath actually catches in my chest and my heart stutters out an extra beat.

  “Then I think you should kiss me. I think you should kiss the hell out of me, actually, until I can no longer speak or think. And then I think I’m gonna need you to make love to me, Jake Turner.”

  Christ. “I can do all of those things.”

  “Thank God.” She laughs, wiping at her remaining tears, then lowers her face back to mine. I kiss the hell out of her, because she asked me to. I kiss her until she’s not talking and hopefully, her brain has shut off for the night. Our tongues tangle and dance, passion and heat flowing between us, swirling around us before it rises up and dissipates into the Las Vegas night.

  My hands slide up the back of her shirt, feeling the silkiness of her skin. I’ve been dying to touch her. Dying to watch her as I make her come with my body. My cock is so hard, I can hardly stand it. But she asked me to make love to her. Not fuck her. And there is a difference. I might have never experienced that particular distinction before, but I sure as hell am now. Any asshole with half a brain can fuck. Only a man who knows the worth of the woman he’s with can make love. She’s placed so much trust in me tonight, and I refuse to break that.

  Because one thing is certain.

  She’s not leaving. No goddamn way.

  I kiss her harder, her body wrapped up in mine. Pulling her shirt over her head, my mouth glides down the smooth column of her neck, nipping and sucking as I go, taking my time to worship her. My hand cups one of her perfect breasts, squeezing gently, but hard enough so she moans, throwing her head back as I rub my thumb across her puckered nipple, straining through the lace of her bra.

  “Jake, yes.”

  I growl before I can stop myself. “Say it again.”

  “Jake,” she pants my name, rocking her hips into me. “Jake, yes.”

  Jesus motherfucking Christ. “God, I love it when you say my name like that.”

  “If you want me, Jake, don’t let go. I’m so unsteady. So out of my depth. I don’t want to fall.”

  I stare into her eyes. It’s dark out here, but it’s also not. It’s moody. Hazy. But I see her. I see her and she’s asking me not to let her go. To hold her and make sure she doesn’t fall. “I promise, I won’t let you go.” She blinks at me, the desperation in my voice, in her expression is making me high. “But I want you to fall, Fiona. I want you to fall hard. I want you to fall so hard there is no turning back.”

  She doesn’t respond. And for a moment, she looks torn. Stricken. Terrified. But if there is no going back for me, there sure as hell is no going back for her. I’m in this. She’s in this. And we’re leaping together.

  I roll our bodies over, her on her back and me covering her. She shivers, her skin touching the cool fabric of the lounger. Her hands grasp the hem of my shirt, tugging it up. I reach behind my neck and grab the collar, yanking it over my head and tossing it aside. Her eyes rake me in, covering every inch of my chest, arms and abs. Tentatively, she reaches out, wanting to touch me, yet afraid to. She undoes the buttons of my well-worn jeans, her fingers trembling as she goes. It might be my total undoing.

  How can one woman be this sexy? How can I be this turned on by one simple gesture?

  “Lay back. Eyes on me,” I command, my jeans left undone, sitting low on my hips. I strip her down completely, leaving her bare beneath me. “So fucking beautiful,” I whisper as I take her in, because damn, she’s a sight. Large—but not too large—breasts with perfect pink nipples. Slender, taught stomach that slopes into the curve of her hips and her bare pussy and then down into her legs. And damn, those legs. I’ve had far too many fantasies about those legs. I lower myself down, my body sinking into her softness, basking in her warmth. My eyes close quickly, before reopening, needing to see her, watch her.

  My fingers caress a trail down her body, my eyes following the path. I pinch
her nipple, roll it between my thumb and finger. She whimpers, wiggles just enough so I know she likes it. Lower. Lower. Until I’m pressing two fingers into her wet pussy and finding her swollen clit with my thumb, rubbing it in slow circles. A moan escapes the back of her throat as her body bows, arching and pushing down on my fingers. Hell, that’s hot. She’s writhing beneath me. She can’t stop moving. I’ve never felt this sort of sensation before. This incredible build. This insatiable need. I’ll never get enough of her. Ever. She’s it for it me, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she pants, and the speed of her answer makes my heart soar and my cock grow harder.

  I give her a wicked grin, the coarse stubble on my jaw following the same pattern down her body as my fingers. I part her thighs, stare at her pretty glistening pussy and drop my face.

  “Ah! Oh my God, Jake.” Her fingers fly down, gripping and pulling my hair like she can’t tell if she wants to pull me closer or push me away. My mouth explores her. Tastes her. Licks her. Sucks her clit in and laps up her sweetness until she’s fucking my face with abandon and screaming so loud I’m sure all of Vegas can hear. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers as she comes, her face an exquisite picture of pleasure.

  I crawl up her, kissing and licking as I go. I can’t seem to stop. I can’t get enough. A satisfied grin etches on my face, and she’s most definitely echoing it times a million.

  “What was that?”

  I laugh, nuzzling my nose against her cheek. “The first of many.”

  “I’ve never had an orgasm before.” She blushes furiously, her face turning away from me ever so slightly with her embarrassment. “I mean, not from someone else.”

  I groan out something unintelligible and then my mouth is on her, kissing and nipping and exploring, my tongue swirling with hers. “Taste yourself on me, Sunshine. Taste your first real orgasm.” She moans and my blood roars in my veins. “I’m really glad you find cavemen sexy, because you telling me I’m your first, makes me want to beat my chest like one. You have no idea what that does to me. I’m going to give you everything that other asshole couldn’t. I’m going to ruin you, Fiona, for any other man.”

  My hands cup her breast, my lips skimming and licking the swell.

  “I need you inside of me, Jake. Please.”

  I let out a shaky breath, my hooded eyes feasting on her. “I thought you were beautiful before,” I whisper, suddenly overwhelmed in a way I never expected to be. “But God, you’re so much more than that. I don’t think words have been invented to describe women like you. Stunning and perfect just don’t seem adequate.” My mouth covers her nipple, licking and sucking. It drives her wild. She’s crazed, scraping her nails down my back, leaving marks I wish I could see.

  Before she can say or do anything else, I’m pulling down my jeans and wrapping myself in a condom I snag out of my wallet. Her hands go to my shoulders and glide down my chest like she can’t touch me enough. Like she needs to learn every surface of my skin. I’m right there with her. But the second I cover her with my body and sink deep inside her, she no longer cares about any of that.

  “Are you ready for me, Fiona?” I ask, freezing my body in her incredible heat. God, she feels so good. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you want me as much as I want you. I’m nuts about you. I’ll never get enough, and this is only the beginning.”

  She nods, blinking her eyes up at me. “This is so…” She pushes out a breath. “I’m so…Take me. I’m yours.”

  That’s all I ever needed to hear.

  I pump into her, pressing her down into the lounge chair that creaks in protest with every move we make. I kiss her, touching her wherever and whenever I can. We both moan, loud and long, because this is so insanely good. Mind-blowing. I had no idea it could be like this. We move together like our bodies were made for each other. She meets me thrust for thrust, sweat lining my brow and gliding down my back. Her mouth comes up, kissing me, taking me deeper into her body as she wraps those legs around my waist.

  I’m fucking her. I’m making love to her. I’m everything in between with her.

  I feel my climax building, but I hold off, not daring to go near the precipice until she falls first. And just as I think that, she begins to tremble, shaking uncontrollably, her pussy squeezing like a vice grip on my cock so hard I see stars. Her nails claw at my shoulders, somersaulting me over the edge until I can’t help but let go, her name an expletive on my lips. Panting heavily, I lean in on her, but I’m too tired and weak to move.

  “Am I crushing you?”

  She shakes her head, her nose rubbing against mine.

  I draw back once I’m able to see straight. I won’t lie, it takes me a while to get there. Standing upright, I dispose of the condom and am back on the lounger with her in an instant. “Come here,” I say softly, bending down and picking her up into my arms. I cradle her against my chest and drop back into the chaise, holding her close, my nose pressed into her hair. “That was incredible,” I whisper against her “Are you okay?”

  She nods, meeting my eyes, her unstoppable smile telling me everything her words can’t. Our eyes lock, heat swelling from within me and then I roll her on top of me, desperate to watch her ride me. I’m hard again already. This girl. Fuck. She sinks down on me, fucking me. Taking what she wants. What she needs.

  And when we’re done, when we’re both sweaty and smiling and completely out of breath, I kiss her, wrapping her body up in mine. I’ve made love to her twice, but I can’t stop kissing her. I’ve never been intimate with a woman before. I’ve fucked plenty, but I’ve never been intimate. There is a difference. I realize that now, here, with Fiona.

  But I need the rest of her story. There are things present that are bigger than both of us and I have to know what I’m in for. Because I am in for it. I could care less that she’s a billionaire’s daughter. I could care less that she’s technically married to another man, though she swears to me she’s left him and that life far behind.

  I’ve fallen in love with her.

  That should scare me. But it doesn’t.

  The only thing about Fiona that scares me is losing her.

  And as our kisses grow from urgent and passionate to sweet and languid, she sinks into me further. I pull back and just look at her, my eyes gluing to her heavy ones. She’s wrecked. I smile softly at the woman in my arms, press my lips to the tip of her nose, then her forehead, then her lips.

  I bundle her up in my arms to keep her warm against the desert night and she lets out a contented sigh. We fall asleep together on the balcony like this. In this interlude we find ourselves trapped in. It’s perfect.

  So why do I have the sinking feeling everything is falling apart instead of coming together?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “It was a sniper,” I tell Fiona as my fingers caress the soft skin of her collar bone and chest. Everything about tonight feels surreal. I don’t even necessarily know why, it just feels like something out of a dream. Like I died and went to heaven, and when I got there, God said, here you go. You can have this woman because you’ve been a good person.

  But the irony of that is I can’t have her. Not really anyway. This will all come tumbling down on both of us. It’s just a matter of when.

  We passed out on the balcony, but when I woke up at two in the morning, freezing my balls off with her snaked around me like a vine, I picked her up and brought her into my bed. We didn’t fall back to sleep, though. We’ve been up talking since, even though neither of us has had much sleep lately. I don’t care, and neither does she seem to.

  “A sniper?” she asks softly, her fingers tracing the raised scar on my shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I say, looking deeply into her green eyes that are now more the color a forest in the paltry light of my room. “Not the worst wound to get, I guess.”

  And this?” she asks, playing with the lines of the tattoo on my left peck above my heart.

  “Believe it or
not, my father was an incredible artist. I’ve had this image since I was a boy. My father gave it to me on a card for my eighth birthday. He was always drawing. After I enlisted in the Army, I drove to this well-known tattoo parlor in Baltimore, because that’s where I was living at the time, handed the artist this picture and told him to ink me up.”

  “Is this his name?”

  I shake my head, my eyes glazing over as I remember the day I had that done. I’d been home from Afghanistan—well, the hospital in Germany—for a week when I attended the funerals of two of the soldiers who died the day I was shot. All I could see were their dead eyes.

  They eclipsed everything. They haunted me. I couldn’t shake it.

  I wanted to die with them for a while. One left behind a pregnant girlfriend and the other had a wife and a son. Me? I had no one. I mean, I had my parents, both separately, but it wasn’t the same. Watching those families weep over their fallen soldier? Shit. Guilt is a possessive bitch. She clings on to you when you need her least, and holds on as she rides you to a hell of self-loathing and self-destruction.

  “No. I did this after,” is all I say because I don’t know how to talk about that. It’s been nine years and I still haven’t accepted it.

  She nods, leaning in and kissing their names. I shudder, a lump forming in the back of my throat. We’re quiet for a few moments. Contemplative. Both lost in our worlds. “Tell me about your last girlfriend.”

  A rumbling chuckle bolts past my lips as I scrub a hand over my face. “You want to hear about my last girlfriend?”

  “Yep. I do.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you after you tell me.”

  I chuckle again, running my fingertips up and down the bony prominences of her spine. “Her name was Kerith. She was smart and pretty and kind and more of a loner than I was. I dated her at Wharton for about a year.”

  “What happened?”

  I shrug. “We graduated. She got an offer from a large accounting firm in Miami and I didn’t give a shit enough about business to apply for anything. She was ambitious, and I wasn’t. She left, and I didn’t try to stop her or go with her.”