by Jane Jamison
“She’s nothing special.”
Roman suddenly felt like throwing himself at Dalton. How could he say she was ‘nothing special’? She was amazing, charming, and beautiful. In the short time they’d been together, she’d shown him her wit as well as her gentle personality.
He let out a small breath. He’d been drawn to her from the first moment she’d sat down, but until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d liked her. Was like even the correct word?
“She’s about five feet, six inches, around normal size. She has a nice shape with breasts big enough to hang on to without too much left over. She has brown hair and eyes.”
As he’d thought, Dalton had described her physical appearance well enough. Although he would’ve added that she had a bottom that made him want to squeeze it hard. And a sparkle in her eyes that hinted at the wild woman she could be if the right man had her legs wrapped around him. But Dalton had said nothing about her spirit and her courage. A courage Roman doubted even she realized she had.
“You just described ninety percent of the women walking through the lobby right this minute.”
Dalton glanced over his shoulder as though he didn’t believe him. “I know.” He worked his jaw back and forth, a sign he was concentrating harder. “She had a quality about her. Like a princess who isn’t so involved in her own status that she’s unaware of those around her. She was regal without being snooty.”
The wash of jealousy swamping him was unexpected. Had Dalton kissed her, too? Or had their encounter been an unhappy one? Did she find Dalton attractive? Most women did. But then again, he was no slouch in the looks department, either. He knew damn well they’d shared an attraction. Their kiss had proven it.
Still, the idea of Dalton with Peyton made him uneasy.
“You’re sure it was the bracelet and not some knock-off piece of jewelry?” Roman hated lying to his best friend and hated being a part of the theft of the bracelet. If he could’ve done things differently, if he could’ve changed the events that had happened two weeks earlier, he would have. But, as a fellow clan member, he had to protect the person who’d actually done the stealing.
The clan member, Miko, hadn’t really wanted to take the bracelet. He’d wanted only to prove that the Emeralian security had holes. Yet, once he’d laid eyes on the Bracelet of Atlantis, he hadn’t been able to resist taking it. Soon afterward, Miko had come to Roman, terrified of what he’d done. Roman had confiscated the bracelet, determined to keep it safe until he could figure out how to get it back into the hands of the Emeralians without exposing Miko as the thief. Yet keeping it safe had proved difficult when the Council had started searching every dragon’s home and business for it.
Hiding it in plain sight had seemed a safe thing to do. Especially when he’d seen one of the Verian dragons lurking around the game tables while he and Peyton had been playing. Thinking on his feet, he’d given it to Peyton, hiding it in plain sight on the beautiful tourist.
“I think I know fine jewelry when I see it.” Dalton’s green eyes glowed with bits of red in them, his dragon rising toward the surface. “And I sure as hell know the Bracelet of Atlantis.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’m not trying to throw dirt on your reputation.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get all the facts. Nothing more.”
“With no jokes about me being an old man? No ribbing at all? That’s not like you.”
He shrugged and averted his gaze to the dark red liquid in his glass. “First you complain about my jokes, and now you’re missing them?” He slipped back into jokester mode with a big grin. “If I didn’t know you better, old man, I’d swear you’re saying you like my razzing you.”
“Fuck you.” Dalton’s phone beeped, causing him to check it. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t have any news.”
“Yep. You know me. Head in the sand and my cock in a woman.”
Dalton snorted. “You wish.”
An image of Peyton came. Her eyes were big as Roman came closer and ripped off her shirt. Her breasts, braless and perky, beckoned to him.
He shook off the thought and motioned for a nearby waitress to bring him another bottle of wine. “Yeah, I do. At least, the cock in a woman part.”
“Romey, what the fuck are you doing talking to one of them?”
Fuck. Why didn’t I notice him coming our way again?
“Rakston, keep your nose out of my business.” Roman didn’t let it show how much he hated being called “Romey.” Why make a fuss out of it? If he did, it would prompt Rakston into using it more.
Rakston slid into the chair beside him, his silver eyes turning to gray with his anger. “I asked you a question. What the hell are you doing talking to an Emeralian dragon?”
Roman thanked the waitress, took his wine, and bit back the urge to tell him to fuck off. “Keep your damn voice down. Either that or grab a microphone and announce what we are to the whole damn world.”
Dalton’s eyes glowed even stronger. He hadn’t spoken or moved. Roman could smell the irritation sifting off him. If he didn’t take care of the drunken Rakston soon, Dalton might take matters into his own hands. He’d heard of more than one man ending up in the middle of the desert, beaten and bloodied, after getting Dalton angry. Still, judging by the stories, all those men had deserved what they’d gotten. Hell, they were lucky to be alive.
“Fuck that.” Rakston’s lip curled back into a sneer. “Fuck him. Damn thieves.”
Dalton wasn’t the type who’d bolt to his feet ready to fight. If a man had half a brain, he’d see the simmering fury in Dalton’s face and get away while he could. Rakston, however, wasn’t known for having half a brain even when sober. And drunk? What little brain he had would’ve gone on vacation.
Roman needed to get Rakston away from Dalton. Besides, he wanted to end the conversation. The more he talked about the bracelet, the likelier he might make a slip and say something he shouldn’t.
“I’m a paying customer.” Dalton’s angry gaze slid from Roman to Rakston. “I’m willing to bet the same can’t be said for this beast.”
Aw, shit. Don’t call him a beast.
No dragon liked being called a beast, or an animal, or anything suggesting he was anything other than a dragon. After all, dragons were noble beings, not base creatures.
Roman was on his feet a second before the muddle-brained Rakston lunged toward Dalton. Wrapping his arms around the big guy, Roman grabbed him and held him back.
“Take it easy, man. He was just leaving.” He shot a pointed look at Dalton, warning him not to make him a liar. “I don’t give a flying fart about your petty grievances.” He grinned, keeping Rakston from seeing him do it. “Get the hell out and don’t come back, Emeralian.”
Dalton rose, taking his time. “You’re right. I’m leaving.” He lifted his nose into the air much like he’d do as a dragon. “I don’t think I can take much more of this foul air.”
“You fucking asshole. I’m going to tear your fucking head off.”
Rakston growled and tried again to reach Dalton, even as Dalton put his back to the irate dragon, acting as though Rakston’s repeated threats didn’t bother him.
Roman watched his friend walk slowly away. Dalton didn’t fear Rakston. Since Dalton was much older, his strength far exceeded Rakston’s.
At last, he managed to get his unruly clam mate to sit down. When he was sure the man wouldn’t go after Dalton, he retook his seat and downed his wine.
Fuck. What were the odds of Dalton running into Peyton?
His impulse to give Peyton the bracelet for safekeeping might backfire. He’d hoped that hiding the bracelet in plain sight would make it easier for him, giving him time to find out how to return the bracelet. Dalton seeing Peyton wearing the bracelet had really fucked things up.
Things are getting complicated.
Chapter Four
Peyton couldn’t handle another minute sitting in front o
f a slot machine. Shirley, however, was transfixed, her generous bottom firmly planted on the stool in front of the Wild Werewolves quarter slot machine.
“These free drinks are watered down. I’m going to get a real drink, okay?”
Her friend mumbled something, and Peyton took it as a yes. “Good. Do you want anything?”
A shake of Shirley’s head was all she got. Who knew Shirley would be such a fiend for slots?
She turned, leaving her friend to stare at the spinning wolf heads and white moons, and went in search of the nearest bar. The golden bracelet on her wrist shone under the overhead lights. She wasn’t the only woman wearing jewelry, of course. Every female in the place was dripping with diamonds, silver, and gold. Still, she couldn’t help but feel her bracelet was special. As though it had been made just for her.
Ooh. I’d better stop thinking like that. Roman’s going to want it back once our fling is over.
She’d give it back, of course. The gift was too lavish. Besides, she’d never have anywhere to wear it back home. Saturday night at the movies was hardly a dress-up event.
Sighing, she took a seat at the bar and cringed. Another slot machine was built into the counter. The bartender, one of four, was in front of her in the next minute.
“What can I get for you?”
“The bottle of the finest champagne you have available.” The velvet voice flowed over her.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Sterling.”
She swiveled around, eager to see Roman again. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” He took the stool next to her. “You look wonderful.”
The blush warmed her cheeks. She wasn’t the type to blush, but Roman had a way of bringing it out in her. “Thanks. And thank you so much for the suite. It’s amazing, something we couldn’t have afforded in a million years.”
Her mother had taught her to never look a gift horse in the mouth, but these were extraordinary circumstances. “Listen, Roman, I don’t mean to be rude, and please know I’m very grateful, but I’ve got to ask. Why are you doing all this?”
He acted as though she’d asked him why he ate three meals a day. As though it was no big deal. “Do I really need a reason?”
His gaze slipped away from hers for a moment before returning. Did that mean he was hiding something?
“Yeah, you do. Like I said, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to know.”
His strange silver eyes bored into her. “I told you. You’re my lucky charm. I’d be going against what every gambler believes if I didn’t treat my Lady Luck like she was made of gold.” He chuckled and fingered the bracelet. “Pure gold.”
“There has to be more to it.”
He was charming and sexy and everything she’d ever dreamed a man would be, but her intuition said he had a secret. While her logic told her that secrets were secrets for a reason, the adventurous and curious side of her, the side she’d come to Vegas to turn free, loved the idea of him harboring a secret. Could she get it out of him? Wouldn’t it be fun to try?
Roman swept her hair over her shoulder, sending a tingle through her. Once again, he looked away then back at her. “There is more.”
She was almost disappointed that he would tell her so quickly. “Go on.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Yes, I admit it. I gave you the bracelet on an impulse. But I’m a man who listens to his instincts, and mine were telling me to give it to you.”
“For keeps or am I supposed to return it?” She hated how she’d asked the question, but she had to know. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure how we left it.”
He smiled at the bartender, who had returned with two flutes and a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. Once the bartender was gone, Roman faced her, once more giving her his full attention. “Do I look like the kind of man who’d give a woman a gift and then want it back?”
Damn it. Why did he keep looking away?
She’d read somewhere that people who avoided eye contact were lying. Was it true? Although she’d hoped their fun would go a lot farther, she knew it was time to end it. She took the bracelet and started working it off her arm. “Here. Take this back before I lose it.”
“No. Please. I want you to keep it.”
His hand covered hers, and the touch of his skin against hers seared through her. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to feel his naked body pressed against hers. “I really should give it back. Besides, I’m not the type of girl who can wear jewelry like this.”
He leaned closer, putting his face only a few inches from hers. His eyes grew darker, his expression more intense. She felt as though she was the prey and he was the predator. Strangely, she was prey that would gladly be eaten alive.
“What kind of woman do you mean?”
He’d said woman, and not girl.
She squirmed in her seat, noting the wetness growing between her legs. Too much time had passed since she’d had that feeling. How many more nights would pass before she’d feel it again?
When she didn’t answer, he answered for her. “You’re wrong. You’re exactly the kind of woman who should wear it. If you think you need to be of royal blood or a celebrity, then you’ve got it all wrong. You’re perfect the way you are. You’re very beautiful and charming, and yet, down-to-earth. Not to mention smokin’ hot.”
Smokin’ hot.
No man had ever called her that before. Cute, pretty, and fun were the adjectives the guys back home had used. Never smokin’ hot.
He got closer, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. His fingers caught her under the chin and lifted her mouth, bringing it near enough to his that she could’ve flicked her tongue over his lips.
Kiss me.
Her gaze met his as she begged him to understand her unspoken plea.
His smile widened slightly, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Yes. Please.
She parted her lips, ready to meet his.
Now.
The sound of Beyoncé singing split the air between them, startling her. Roman eased back.
“Do you need to answer that?”
Damn phone.
She groaned, hating whoever was calling her. “Only so I know who to kill later.”
“For me, too. But go ahead and answer it.”
If it had been anyone other than Shirley, she would’ve ignored the call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You’re a slut, you know it?”
“What?”
Shirley’s laugh was contagious and made her smile. “I’m kidding, but I am so jealous of you right now. I can see you from where I am. You, girl, are so damn lucky.”
“You could’ve waited a few more minutes to call.”
“Sorry. I hit the button before I realized what was about to happen. But I’m sure he’ll get back to it as soon as we hang up.”
“I hope so.”
“You know so, slut.”
“Why don’t you come and join us?” She hoped Shirley would choose the right answer.
“Oh, sure. Like you really want me to. Nope. I’m fine where I am. I just called to tell you to have fun and do whatever you want. Remember why we came here and cut loose. Really go wild. Be the Peyton you’ve always wanted to be. And don’t worry about me, okay?”
“What about the show tonight?” she whispered, though she figured Roman could still hear her. They had tickets to one of the best shows in town.
“If you make it, you make it. I’ll wait as long as I can outside the theater. If you don’t, I’m not about to blame you.” The sound of the slot machine paying off jangled through the phone. “Gotta run. I’m on a winning streak. You have fun, you hear?”
“Yes, Mom. I will.”
Roman gave her a searching look. “Was that really your mother?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “Now where were we?”
“We were about to do this.”
The feel of Roman’s lips against hers brought out a moan, her call to him, and he deepened the kiss. Taking
her behind the neck with one hand, he tunneled his fingers into her hair. She slid to the edge of her seat, needing to put her hands on his thick, solid thighs. As soon as she did, she wondered what it would feel like to have those legs slamming against the backs of hers as he drove his cock into her pussy.
His groan sounded more like a growl as he nibbled on her bottom lip. Did he like gentle kisses or harder ones? He’d given her both the first time they’d kiss. Not that it mattered. She wanted every kiss he would ever give her. The heat that had started the first moment she’d seen him with his cocky grin and confident attitude burst into an all-consuming fire.
Fire leapt to an inferno as the kiss grew harder, more insistent. If he’d pulled her off her stool and flung her to the carpeted floor, she would’ve shouted for joy. Who cared if Shirley and everyone else in the casino watched them? The women would be jealous of her and, if she dared to think so, the men would want to take Roman’s place.
Roman gave her his tongue, flicking its way around her mouth. He teased her, trying to get her to bring her tongue into his mouth. When she did, he sucked hard, almost to the point of hurting. She explored his mouth, drawing in every taste, feeling every texture. When she pulled her tongue back, he followed hers with his own. Boring Peyton from Ohio was long gone, replaced by a she-devil who ached to have sex with a dashing, irresistible man.
She groaned again, for an entirely different reason, when Roman turned her free. Thankfully, he didn’t go far. Instead, he put his hands on her waist and tugged her to her feet.
“Come to my penthouse.”
She took her time answering, not because she didn’t know the answer but because she wanted to savor the moment. How many times would she ever hear such a question?
“Peyton?” For the first since meeting him, he seemed nervous, unsure.
“Yes.”
Taking her hand, he pulled her along with him through the crowd. She couldn’t help but grin as the women around her shot envious glares her way. Shirley stood on the fringe of the slot machine area and gave her a thumb’s-up signal. She grinned wider, letting her friend know she’d seen her.