by Alexx Andria
Nuzzling her neck, he pressed soft kisses along her shoulder until she stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal those gorgeous moss-green eyes as her mouth parted on a sleepy yawn.
"I ordered lunch but you look good enough to eat," he said, meaning every word. The needs of his stomach faded as he gazed on all those lush hills and valleys. The soft flesh beckoned for another round but he knew they both needed to eat or they'd pass out so he reluctantly helped her up, handing her one of the luxurious bath robes.
"I should probably get dressed," she said but he simply shook his head, brooking no argument.
"I like the idea of you being naked beneath my robe. Keeps my thoughts dirty and the engine primed. All we're doing right now is fueling up, baby girl."
Kennedy blushed with a giggle as she slid on the robe but said, "I can't stay here all day. I have things I have to do."
"Yes, mainly me. But let's not waste time arguing. Come, I ordered something of everything."
Kennedy's eyes widened when she saw the spread of food, shocked that he'd indeed bought everything on the menu. In his defense, he said, "I didn't know your tastes so I erred on the side of caution."
"This is like on Survivor when they finally get to eat real food and all they can do is stare in wonder," she said, causing him to laugh. "I don't even know where to start."
"Well, I certainly do," he said, grabbing a slice of pizza and folding it New York style to gobble a huge bite. "God yes, perfect."
She followed his example, reaching for the pizza and sinking her teeth in with a happy sigh. "I do love pizza."
"I love watching you put things in your mouth," he said, letting the innuendo drop. She blushed and he didn't know if he'd ever seen a woman as pretty as Kennedy. Stop mooning like an asshole. He stiffened against the inner voice barking at him and tried to dial back the sappy shit flooding his brain whenever he looked at Kennedy for longer than two seconds.
"So, what exactly are you doing here in Vegas?" she asked, curious. "Are you in town for business or pleasure?"
"A combination of both. I have a project I'm considering with my business partner that required a face-to-face so I decided to spend a few days kicking up my heels."
Kennedy chuckled. "I've always though that was a funny saying. I get this mental image of someone doing an old-fashioned jig or something."
Lars reached over to wipe a tiny smidge of grease from the corner of her mouth. Kennedy blushed, murmured her thanks, and he had to stop himself from latching his mouth to her lips just to taste her again.
Kennedy smiled and picked at the pepperoni on her pie as a perplexed frown followed. "Why me?" she asked, her gaze filled with wonder and confusion. "I mean, there are far more beautiful women than me that you could've been with for less. What made me stand out?"
"Baby girl, I'll be honest with you, the minute I saw you, all the other girls faded away."
Kennedy laughed as if she didn't believe him. "Oh please, you're a smooth talker but that was a little rich. I saw the woman in the red dress the night before. She's a ten, for sure."
He shrugged, barely able to remember Cassidy's features at this point. "Maybe but you're an eleven." And he was being sincere. His brain was soaked with Kennedy's essence and anything less was simply...a knock-off. To that end, Lars never fucked with generic. "I have no reason to lie. There's something about you that trips my wires in a way that confounds me but I find it refreshing. It's been a long time since I've found anyone remotely worth my time."
"That sounds very arrogant," Kennedy said, her frown deepening. "My daddy always said, 'Beware the man who looks down at those serving him 'cuz he'll never understand the value of another person's time.' Are you like that?"
Lars chuckled and shook his head. "No but I don't suffer fools either. I respect honesty and hard work, no matter what your profession. Actually, it's one of the qualities I noticed about you at the bar."
"What do you mean?"
"You were professional and efficient. Unlike other girls, you didn't waste time trying to flirt your way into a bigger tip. You did your job well and I believe in rewarding good service."
"Max is always after me to play nice with the patrons but it just feels so slimy that I can't do it." She twisted her fingers, struggling with her next statement. "I think I may have just contradicted myself but I meant it when I said I've never done anything like this before. Honestly, I don't even date that much."
"I believe you," he said, reaching over to shock her with a kiss. He just couldn't stop himself. She tasted of spice and Kennedy, an alluring mix. "You're not like a lot of girls who end up on the strip. You haven't lost that special quality about yourself that makes you stand out."
"I don't know about that," Kennedy retorted. "I'm a long ways away from the girl who just stepped off the bus. I'm not sure I'll ever get that girl back again. Too much has happened."
He sensed a dampening in her energy and a protective prickle rippled across his chest. "What do you mean?"
But Kennedy didn't want to talk about it. She shook her head and tried to change the subject, saying, "I need to wash my hands, I have grease everywhere. Be right back."
She practically jumped from her seat to disappear into the bathroom. Lars tossed his crust and wiped his own hands, still thinking about what Kennedy hadn't shared.
If someone had hurt her, he'd ruin them.
It took a moment for Kennedy to compose herself. She'd worked hard to forget about that one night but somehow Lars had brought the memory to the surface.
The girls couldn't stand Maximo because he was a fat pig of a man who was all about profit and had the soul with the depth of a puddle but he wasn't the worst out there by far.
Even though Max might openly leer at their breasts, he kept his hands to himself.
She couldn't say the same for every manager.
Girls were a dime a dozen on the strip. There was always someone waiting in the wings who needed a job, would do more for less, and was hungrier than the last girl so when the manager got grabby, most girls just put up with it because they needed their job.
Some were even rewarded for their service.
A blow job after hours could get a girl premium shifts but telling the slimy asshole to blow himself could get a girl black-balled.
Kicking the guy in the nuts, well, that got a girl way worse punishment.
And it had.
Get over it, she told herself in the mirror, horrified to see how her face had paled at the memory. This was not the time to go waltzing down Nightmare Lane. It'd happened, it was over and she survived so time to move on.
Besides, she finally had the money to get out of this rotten town and she never had to run the chance of running into that asshole ever again.
Right. So buck up.
Kennedy splashed some water on her face, patted the water away with a towel and once she felt she could successfully exit the bathroom without looking as if she'd just spent the morning curled in a ball sobbing her eyes out, she left only to find Lars waiting for her on the bed.
A welcome distraction, she thought shakily but her nerves were unaccountably jangled for reasons unknown. Lars had been nothing but amazing and kind, why was the memory of that horrible night rising to ruin everything?
Maybe she should go. Quit while she was ahead. Yes, that was probably best. Forcing a smile, she said, "As much fun as this was...I have to get going."
"Did someone hurt you?" he asked, point-blank.
She faltered, the quick lie dying on her tongue. Her throat worked convulsively as she tried to find the words to pretend that she was fine but there was something about Lars that made her feel protected and safe — and that was something she hadn't felt in a long time in spite of outward appearances.
"Yes."
"Come here, baby girl," he said softly and she went without hesitation, all thought of leaving evaporating. He gathered her into his arms and she went into the cove of his body as if she were born to fit again
st him. "I want to know what happened."
"I don't want to talk about it. Besides, it was a long time ago. When I first moved here, I made the mistake of working at a club with a bad reputation. It was my fault."
"What happened?" he asked again, this time his voice firm.
"I was young and naive. I thought I was bad-ass and could take care of myself." She drew a shuddering breath, hating the memory of that night. "I took a job as a cocktail waitress at a club called Pussy Willows. The manager had a habit of making his girls service customers as well as himself. I guess some of the girls didn't mind the extra money but I wasn't about to do something like that. When he came at me, expecting to be serviced, I told him to fuck off. When he grabbed me, I kicked him in the nuts."
Tears stung her eyes at this next part.
"Did he touch you against your will?"
It didn't take much to remember in full detail what happened after she'd kicked him hard enough to send his nuts into his throat. She hadn't counted on the bouncer being in on the gig. The thing was, no one ever expected to be assaulted. It was always something that happened to other people, not you. "He had his bouncer hold me down and — " she sucked in an aggrieved breath, drawing air into her lungs as if she were being choked — "he raped me."
"Did you report it?"
"No. I was in shock. I went home and cried for three days. I was so ashamed for being so stupid. I didn't tell anyone."
His arms tightened around her and she sobbed fresh tears over something she thought she'd gotten over but somehow Lars made her feel safe enough to touch that hot spot again, though why that made any sense, she didn't know.
"What was his name?" Lars asked, the steel in his tone making her shiver.
She'd never forget that asshole's name. "Allen Lew. The Pussy Willow got shut down a few years back but I'm sure Allen is managing a club somewhere on the strip. Men like him always find a way to land on their feet."
"He's never going to hurt you again," he promised.
Kennedy smiled through her tears. "Oh, I know that. If he ever tries to touch me again, I won't stop at his balls, I'll put a bullet between his eyes."
The look on Lars' face was something she never expected to see on a relative stranger but she knew it was something that she'd long to see on someone whom she'd given her heart.
Rage with a promise of retribution.
But that didn't make any sense. Nothing about what was happening between she and Lars made 'a lick of sense' as her daddy would always say.
What was bubbling between them felt far more dangerous than anything the strip had to offer because it felt so good.
"You're married, aren't you?" she blurted out, needing something to ground her in reality. "If not married, then attached. Men like you always have girls stashed somewhere."
"There are no men like me," he said quietly and she shivered at the authority in his tone. In that moment, she believed without a doubt he wasn't bragging or being macho. God had simply broken the mold when he'd fashioned Lazarus James. "I'm not married or attached. I'm not the kind to settle down, therefore I don't get into situations where there is an expectation of a commitment."
Why did that statement both disappoint and relieve her? He was telling her that he wasn't going to stick around and that she shouldn't expect anything more than what he was willing to give in this moment. That should be fine with her. It wasn't as if she hoped to ride off into the sunset with the man, right?
But maybe a tiny part of her — the part that still desperately wanted to believe in love and happily ever after wanted someone to choose her above all odds.
"At least you're honest," she said.
Lars sensed the sadness beneath her forced smile and brushed a sweet kiss across her lips. "Never expect anything less from someone who hopes to deserve your time."
And that kiss turned into something else, something hotter and more primal than perhaps either were prepared for within seconds, they were both naked and twisted up within each other, lost in the tiny bubble of their own making, shutting out the rest of the world.
At least for the time being — and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Five
Lars was a million miles away from the boardroom where he sat surrounded by peers, lawyers and the usual suspects involved with major acquisitions. At this point, his business ran itself but he had always been a control freak and insisted on being at every meeting that involved his money.
Until now.
About a year ago, he'd begun to notice a subtle shift in his focus. He'd always made a point to have competent people in his inner circle and he'd always given them the autonomy to make certain decisions. They'd never let him down, thus earning his respect and his trust.
Even though he was still there physically, mentally he'd begun to drift.
The thrill of making more money didn't appeal to him as it used to — again with the 'poor me' bullshit — but if he were being honest he hadn't felt more alive than when he'd been with Kennedy.
She sparked something inside him that he'd thought long dead.
It'd felt indescribably good to help her, almost as good as being inside her, but he didn't know how to process these feelings.
Did he trust them? What if they faded? What if it was the novelty that had him so twisted up and not the actual person? He was loathe to hurt Kennedy but he wanted to see her again, which he suspected was a bad idea.
For one, seeing her again went against everything he believed was right for him.
Kennedy wasn't a fuck-toy. If she gave him her heart, she would do it with the expectation that he do the same. She deserved no less.
What if his heart wasn't worth someone like Kennedy?
Hell, he'd long since given up on the notion that he was cut out for something as normal as a real committed relationship.
He shouldn't see her.
The meeting ended and everyone filed out, leaving him and his business partner, Boston Kincaid behind.
Lars lightly tapped the fine lacquered table with his index finger, the motion attracting Boston's attention. "You're quiet today," he observed, snapping his briefcase shut. "What's eating you?"
He and Boston went way back and were actually friends but he wasn't sure if he wanted to share what was truly on his mind. Talking about the situation made it too real but fuck, he needed some help sorting out what was tangled up in his brain.
Instead, he asked, "How's Jules?"
Boston and his wife, Julianna, met under circumstances some might find distasteful but they ended up in love with a pretty cute kid and they seemed pretty damn happy so he wasn't going to judge.
"She's incredible, as always. Nothing better than being married to your best friend. You should try it sometime."
He chuckled. "You know that's not for me. I'm happy for you, though."
"I know I've told you this before but I was the same as you until I met the right woman. Meeting the love of your life...it changes you, man. Good changes."
"What if I don't want to change?" Lars replied with a shit-eating grin. "What if I like who I am?"
"Look, I'm not trying to sell you a vacation timeshare, just trying to get you to see that you're cutting yourself off to the greatest adventure of your life. But if you're set on growing old alone with only piles of your money to keep you company, who am I to challenge that?"
"Now you're just being a dick," Lars said, laughing. "Seriously, go knock up your wife or something."
"Working on it," Boston said, winking. "Been trying for a few months."
Lars chuckled, suffering an odd pang of jealousy that'd never been his reality ever before. Kids? Fuck that. He wasn't even anyone's crazy uncle. Kids were just...not in his wheelhouse.
But a kid with Kennedy would simply be the most genetically gifted individual ever created.
He smiled at his own lack of modesty and drew a deep breath, deciding to share a little bit of his situation. "Okay, so I have met someone that I can't seem
to stop thinking about, which is unusual for me. She's stuck in my head and I can't seem to knock her loose. It's distracting."
Boston dropped into the leather-bound executive chair with a knowing grin. "Do tell," he encouraged, looking too delighted for words. "What's her name and when can I meet her?"
"Slow your roll. You're not meeting her and I'm not telling you her name. I need some practical advice not some romantic bullshit just because you're sold on the whole picket-fence, happily-ever-after nonsense. I really need to just figure out how to move on."
"Why?"
"Because it's better for us both. C'mon, you know me, I'm not the committed type and I don't want to hurt her. She's a good girl. She deserves way better than me."
"You sell yourself short. You're a good man. You gotta let that shit go from the past, it's holding you down. If this woman is in your head, there's a reason."
Lars let that sink in. Immediately, he thought of that slime ball Allen Lew who'd gotten off without consequence for hurting Kennedy. Maybe that's what he needed to do for closure — do something meaningful for Kennedy so he could leave without feeling bad.
And to be honest, the idea of ruining that son-of-a-bitch appealed to him on a savage level.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I do have some unfinished business. I just need closure and then I can move on, get back to normal."
"So what's her name?" Boston pressed.
"What does it matter?"
"Because it does."
"I'm not telling you because then you'll go and try something stupid like set us up on some double date with you and Julianna. Not that I don't love Jules but, no, that's not going to happen."
Boston chuckled, caught. "Okay, fine. Call me a 'reformed' asshole but if you've got this girl on your mind, don't you think you owe it to yourself to see where it might lead?"
"And what if it leads nowhere and she ends up getting hurt? I don't want that kind of responsibility."
"Sure, that could happen but the opposite could happen and I think that's what you're really afraid of."