by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue
“Hello. I’m Francesca Young, the hotel’s lead concierge.”
“Lovely to meet you but I’m up here to meet someone, and—”
“Yes.” The girl smiled. Seriously, how could so much flawless bone structure be stuffed into one person? “I know.”
“You do?” Her heart lightened. Maybe Tess wasn’t really out there walking on a windswept ledge, like she’d imagined. If the concierge desk was involved here too, maybe this really was just a minor detail about the wedding. “Awesome. So where is she?”
“You mean where is he?”
“He?”
The question mark in her tone didn’t seem to matter now. “Right this way, Miss Thorne. Everything’s ready.”
“Ready for what?”
The last word stammered out differently than she’d planned. But she also hadn’t anticipated following Francesca out the door, around the corner, and onto a huge helipad—where, indeed, a helicopter was parked.
The door was open and waiting. Standing in front of that portal, wind whipping his hair back, a black T-shirt and jeans turning him into sin on two feet, was the beautiful bastard who hadn’t “let her be” at all.
He’d just been away. Plotting. Planning. Then implementing.
This was implementation, all right. With a huge, capital I.
Because of her. For her.
Just the sight of the helo brought her own words back to mind, clear as the moment right after she’d uttered them in the bar. That’s another fantasy of mine, you know. To know what it’s like to fly with you…
He’d sat in that big bed and begged her for more fantasies. Her resistance had been unnecessary. She’d already given him the answer. The moment he’d figured that out too, he’d gone to work on living up to his seductive promise. Now it’s your turn…for fantasies bein’ granted.
He’d even enlisted Tess in his cause. She envisioned her friend now, giggling as Sam explained his plot, totally agreeing to send that text on his behalf. A glance around the deck confirmed it. No Tess in sight.
Jen wanted to—needed to—get pissed about that and the rest of the man’s shenanigans, but even her best efforts couldn’t summon the ire.
Simply put, she just didn’t want to be angry.
She wanted to give in to the rest instead. The giddy leap of her stomach at beholding the powerful lines of the helicopter. The girlish flip of her heart at taking in the majestic man next to it. The tender squeeze of her soul when he beckoned to her, palm turned up, long fingers extended.
She shifted on both feet. Twisted her hands around her tote. Chewed the inside of her cheek into hamburger.
What was the harm in taking that hand? Of letting him give her this last, exciting adventure? Clearly, he planned on piloting the flight, meaning he’d be focused on keeping the helo in the air instead of touching her—though God only knew where her naughty dreams would flow once she watched, up close, his hand on the stick…his fingers on all those switches…
Oh, who the hell was she trying to kid?
Bee. Honey.
Fighting Mother Nature just wasn’t a good idea.
She shook her head. Rolled her eyes. Split a huge grin. Then made her way across the pavement, toward the man who outshone every light around and below with the joy of his barely tamped delight.
Chapter Eight
It was better than she’d ever dreamed.
More sweeping, more spectacular, more shriek-worthy—a fact she emphasized many times over, just to make sure Sam got the point. Perhaps the way he answered her screams, with a smile that turned his dimples deeper than the Grand Canyon and his grin more resplendent than the Luxor’s light beam, made it a little easier to cut loose. All the reasons weren’t important right now. The feelings were. The freedom of having the sky to themselves. The thrill of the wind whipping at the cockpit’s windows. And the awe, turning her into a kid at an amusement park for the first time. From up here, Vegas wasn’t a city anymore. It was a wonderland of lights and color and textures, from the bold blues, purples, reds, and greens illuminating the Strip’s many icons, to the urban fairyland of gold and white beyond.
But all those belly twists didn’t compare to the buzz of watching Sam in his element. He was confident and calm, focused and watchful, though spared a few glances her way that made even her workout gear feel tight and hot. Thank God for well-made sports bras and their padded cups, though her nipples were only the start of her body’s refreshed need. Observing the man’s mastery of this complicated machine only made her remember how he’d commanded every one of her “buttons” and “switches”…and did they absolutely have to position the throttle between the pilot’s legs? With a hand gripping the thing like that, his elbow resting on one massive thigh, her thoughts repopulated with the fantasy she’d had in the gym. His fingers wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself, getting ready to feed his hard length into her eager mouth…
She pushed the thought aside with a pointed cough—though not fast enough to evade Sam’s notice. His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared. His stare heated.
Before a hail over the radio came.
“Night wing two, this is McCarran Tower. Do you copy?”
Thank you, thank you, thank you, McCarran Tower.
“Copy that, McCarran,” Sam responded. “Is course alteration clear and approved?”
“Affirmative,” replied the woman on the other end. “Weather is clear. Enjoy your trip.”
He gave the appropriate sign-off but Jen didn’t care about the words. The secretive quirk of his lips, along with the steady turn he gave the helo, were another matter.
“Course alteration?” she enunciated with all the warmth of a murder conviction.
Sam didn’t look at her, let alone answer. The better part of a minute went by. He flipped switches, checked headings, even sang softly. “Sing me a song…say, could that lad be I…”
“Sam?”
“Merry of soul, he sailed on a—yes, mouse?”
Because of the headsets, he could issue the murmur with the slight growl that spoke straight to the tissues between her thighs. Still, she was able to maintain her glare. “Course alteration?” she demanded again.
More long seconds. Finally, one side of his mouth ticked up. “Jenny?”
Annnnd, more of the damn growl. “What?” She squirmed—and mentally smacked herself for thinking the man couldn’t arouse her without touching her.
“Do you trust me?”
She huffed. “That’s not fair.”
“Neither was you showin’ up dressed like that, all glowy and sweaty and delectable, but I invited you for the ride anyway, did I not?”
Well, there went the huff. And a lot of everything behind it too. Now, she could only laugh. First, because the man was clearly, certifiably insane. Second, because she didn’t know if she wanted him any other way.
Third, because she realized that he was guiding the helicopter toward the vast darkness of the desert beyond the Vegas city limits—and that their next landing very well might not be back on the rooftop of the Nyte at all.
And that despite every damn vow she’d made herself about resisting him again, she couldn’t wait to learn what surprise he had in store now.
Chapter Nine
The first thing she noticed was the silence. So total as to be an entity of its own, like a blanket across the barren section of desert into which Sam had finally landed the helo, almost making her wonder if they’d landed on another planet. Almost. She’d experienced this kind of stillness before. Those sublime summers of her girlhood, filled with it. But those idylls at Aunt Fran and Uncle Chris’s ranch seemed so far away now, even though she’d just journeyed up to Kingston to visit them at Thanksgiving.
It all seemed so far away now. Everything she’d defined as her life, everything she’d known about herself…redefined by the man who now led her away from the helo, firm fingers entwined with hers. Nervously, she looked up. They were making their way toward what looked like a si
zable storage shed, its aluminum siding reflecting the moonlight. That didn’t diminish one speck of its visceral creepiness. She hesitated, wondering whether to prepare for Jason Voorhees or Freddie Krueger.
“Where are we, Sam? What’s going on?”
He glanced back, enough that the moon glow caught the knowing cant of his jaw. “Jenny?”
She snorted. “You going to ask if I trust you again?”
He chuckled and nodded, seemingly satisfied with that, before leading on toward the shed.
As they approached, Jen was surprised to notice a pair of rather nice benches in front of the structure. They were weathered but the construction was custom, and little holes in their bases suggested insertion points for optional sun shades, a necessity if anyone was out here between June and September.
The door was secured by a padlock, which Sam released with a key from a ring in his pocket. Once inside, he reached for light switches with the familiarity of someone who’d been here before. As the illumination kicked in, Jen took her first step across the threshold.
Then halted.
She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this surpassed the expectations like the Starkiller dwarfed the Death Star. It was damn near a designer showroom. No sign of the aluminum walls from outside. Instead, the space was walled in polished wood, reflecting warm hues beneath the bright track lighting. A stacked stone fireplace was surrounded by big leather couches draped in thick throw blankets, all but begging for someone to curl up in them with a good novel and a glass of wine. The open plan kitchen—separated from the main room by a wide bar framed by wrought iron stools—was small but outfitted with up-to-the-minute appliances. The same industrial motif defined a spiral staircase to their left. Apparently, it led to a loft bedroom.
After several seconds of gawking, a word finally fell from her. “Wow.”
Sam chuckled and nodded. “Same thing I said when Chris brought me here the first time.” Chris, Sam’s counterpart from the U.S. team, was a decent but enigmatic guy. Despite his Thor-hot looks, he’d never kept a girlfriend longer than three months.
“Is this his?” Maybe that explained the man’s relationship challenges. If he insisted on coming all the way out here for sex, that’d explain a lot.
“Not entirely,” Sam answered. “It began as a way station for miners but sat empty until the nineteen forties, when Nellis really came into its own as a base. An officer bought the property and refurbished it as a place for him and friends to unwind, away from the constant noise of the base.”
Jen slid a teasing smile as he tugged her across the room. “Noisy? Why, we’re just a bunch of sweet little…mice.”
Though he tossed back a wink, the rest of his face remained placid. The contrast made her belly flip in entirely new ways. “When the man passed on, he willed all of it to his squadron. It’s remained that way over the years, with everyone contributing to the upkeep and renovations.”
“The booty call commune, eh?”
The laugh she’d expected never came. Instead, with a new somberness, Sam stopped. Turned back toward her. “I’ve only been out here alone.”
She brushed a gentle hand down his arm. “A chance to get away with your thoughts?”
“A chance to get away from them.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. With a new smile, he re-laced their fingers. “Want to see the upstairs?”
Jen resisted. “Sam—”
“Drop it.” His deflectors were already locked into place. Even if she dug in and insisted on a “talk”, it would get her nowhere. And yeah, she really wanted to see the rest of this place. It was stunning. Her new knowledge of the history lent her fresh perspective in looking around. Several generations of men had put their unique touches into the place, and she felt special, getting to see it all.
The loft contained another plush sofa and a huge, gorgeous bed. A thick, chocolate brown comforter was spread over the bed, with equally luxurious pillows outfitted in soft white shams. On the other side of the room, a spacious bathroom possessed a huge Roman tub.
But Jen refused to linger.
Lingering would only lead to one thing.
And that one thing would lead to the fall of her own defenses. Then the gut spill of her deepest feelings. And the open door to her ultimate pain.
“Wow.” Her turn for the forced smile. “It’s very nice.”
“Nice.” He echoed it on a chuckle she could only describe as cryptic, while tapping the light switch. “That’s a decent start, I suppose.”
“A start? What the hell are you—”
A high-pitched whir stopped her. She jumped toward Sam as the floor and walls trembled—just before the roof started moving. No…sliding.
The “light switch” hadn’t been that at all. It was a button telling the roof to retract, revealing a skylight the size of the entire bed, exposing the billion stars in the sky overhead. A smaller door retracted directly over the bathtub.
Lights? Who the hell needed lights?
Sam, seeming to read exactly that thought, punched another button—dousing all the track lighting over the main room.
Her tote dropped from her grip. Her jaw felt like it followed.
“Oh my God.” The stars seemed to zoom closer. Unable to resist, Jen walked to the bed. Turned around and flopped back onto it. She gasped aloud, raising a hand toward the firmament, almost expecting the spectral fabric to ripple at her touch. “Holy crap. This is…whoa.”
Yeah, back to being the one-syllable wonder. She didn’t even feel obligated to apologize for it. Sam’s satisfied rumble gave her even more clearance. He walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t join her on it. His chivalry was adorable—and turned her body into five more flavors of pudding. Didn’t he know that from this angle, he was more spectacular than ever? His physique, even more perfect. His eyes caught the glow of the celestial magic from above. And his lips, quirking in a mixture of mischief and adoration, made her crave to feel them on her again. Everywhere on her…
It was so time to get off the bed.
She’d only managed to sit up when he folded his arms like a cocky genie and stated, “Had a little ken you’d like it.”
“Bullshit,” she volleyed. “You ‘had a little ken’ I’d love it.” She meant to say more but was blasted by a wave of emotion. Like the universe itself had retracted the roof of her heart, she couldn’t escape the light show it exposed. Everything tumbled in like a meteor shower, brilliant and blinding and burning. Damn appropriate, since that was exactly what happened to the backs of her eyes. “Shit.” She ducked her head, unable to even risk looking at him anymore. “Sam.”
Damn it. She shouldn’t have even risked that. The hitch in her voice caused the snag in his breath. “Jenny?” His hand, huge and warm, descended on her head. Threaded through her hair. “Hey, hey. What is it, mouse?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” His brogue turned even the slang to magic. She smiled but kept her gaze diverted.
“It’s—it’s nothing, Sam. I think I’m just tired.” And floored. And completely knocked out that you did all this…for me. It’s amazing and you’re amazing and I love you so damn much, it’ hard to breathe. To think. To—
“Jenny.”
His growl dictated one message. He wasn’t giving up. But she had to make him. Somehow…
Ohhhh, crap.
“Somehow” got its answer fast. The very option she’d been so confident about avoiding was now her only path toward derailing him off his quest for her truth. And at this moment, she wondered if it wasn’t just what she needed too. Maybe a hard, sweaty roll in the star-drenched hay would remind her Sam Mackenna was, under all his gallantry and beauty, just a man, not her damn destiny.
Enforcement intact, she let her head pivot beneath his touch—until her mouth rested on the zipper of his jeans. Silently, deliberately, she leaned in—and bit at the harsh fabric.
“Jenny!”
“Ssshhh.” She grabbed his empty belt loops, y
anking him closer.
“But I didn’t bring you here to—” His second moan was louder than the first, as she rubbed her mouth up and down his surging ridge. The heat of his cock made its way past the denim, teasing at her lips.
“So…” She gave it a touch of brat mixed with a dash of coy. “You don’t want to?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No.” She twisted the button beneath her mouth free. Tugged open the denim. Licked at the taut abdominal flesh beneath. “You certainly didn’t.”
She yearned to explore more. Slipped both hands up beneath his shirt, roller-coastering over the ridges of his abs, before descending again. Her nails scraped into his skin, following the muscled V that disappeared beneath his waistband. The second time she glided them up, Sam shucked the shirt, sighing roughly as her fingers pressed, caressed, claimed.
His whole body quaked as her hands came back to center. This time, she flowed her touch over his crotch, rubbing his perfect penis through the jeans. It was a powerful feeling, to know he throbbed and burned like this because of her…for her. If this was half of what he experienced when dominating her, she understood his fascination with the dynamic more clearly.
After she made several passes at his sex, Sam twisted his hand against her scalp. Another yank and her head was snapped back, until the brunt of his gaze swept over her. He took her breath away. His lips were twisted with lust, his nostrils flaring on full breaths…but his eyes were the hottest centerpiece. They burned, pure molten silver, until dripping through every inch of her quivering, needy body.
“So what will I say now, darlin’?” His voice was just as hot and liquid. “You know, don’t you?”
“I can hope.” She didn’t dare dip her eyes back to his crotch. With gaze still locked to his, she kissed it.