by Odell, Roxie
Corrine wasn’t sure how she got there or what was going on, but she knew it was a wise move on his part to get her out of there because she felt like she might be sick any minute. He set her down just in time in a vacant conference room, and she shakily grabbed the closest trashcan she could find. She was grateful he made no rude remarks as she emptied her stomach and instead just patiently waited for her to finish. Then he handed her a box of tissues. She took it without thanks and ripped into them.
“I want a divorce,” she repeated weakly.
“No,” he answered simply.
“You lied to me… about gambling,” she said.
“I guess I did,” he said. “At the time, I thought I was just sort of leaving it out, not telling you about it. I thought I could stop. When you sober up, maybe you’ll be able to relate.”
As drunk as she was, Corrine still knew it was a slam, and she couldn’t help but overreact. “That was a low blow, Rick,” she said.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said. “We’ll see.”
Even in her condition, she could tell there was something different about his tone. The stress that had been bothering him for the last couple weeks seemed to be gone, and his voice sounded almost wholesome. He was cool, calm, and collected, more than he had been in quite a while, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
“Whatever,” she mumbled, trying to maintain her high and mighty position. “I’ll just go then.”
“Again, no,” he said.
“You can’t keep me here! You’ve got no right to—”
“You, Corrine, are going nowhere but up to my room to sleep it off.”
“Fuck you,” she hissed, still sober enough to realize that she was a really mean drunk.
“Not right now, baby,” he said snidely, though not raising his voice. “Save that language for our special time.”
Riled up by his goading, she spat, “I work for a living. I’ve got stuff to do. I’m going, and if you won’t let me, I’ll just call your manager.”
“I am the manager, sort of,” he replied oh-so-coolly. “Besides, I have your wallet and your keys. When you’re well, I’ll give them back. Now, let’s go.”
As Derrick drew Corrine to her feet, she jerked her arm away from him. She knew she was a mess, but she didn’t care how she looked or sounded at that moment. “How come you get to make all the rules, and I’m supposed to follow them?” she demanded. “I walked into a casino and offered you help, and you refused me, yet now you’re making me accept your help?” Corrine felt her point was valid, but she was aware she was still making an ass of herself.
Derrick’s gaze was patient and unfaltering. “I didn’t treat you well, Corrine. That’s precisely why you’re going to take my help now. Let’s go.”
She shoved him, but it was no use. The haggard Derrick was gone, and the former fit and grounded Derrick was back. He was tall and lean, all solid muscle without an ounce of fat on him, so he didn’t budge when she pushed him.
“I’m going be straight up with you,” he began.
“Wow, what a novel idea,” she fired back before he could finish. “Hey, everybody,” she shouted, looking around, “Rick’s gonna start being straight with me!”
He sighed, taking her hostility like he deserved it. “I don’t mind carrying you around the hotel, so if you wanna do this the hard way we can,” he said.
“I’ll just puke again,” she said triumphantly. “Maybe down your back this time.”
He paused to let that sink in. Though he was far more tranquil than he had been recently, there was an unmistakable sadness in his expression, one that made Corrine feel guilty even in her inebriated state.
“Whatever, Derrick,” she said, finally agreeing to recover in his suite. She didn’t have the heart to hurt him further.
The ride up to his room was an awkward one. The first elevator they came to was the exterior glass one, the signature feature of the Tresor, the place where they first met and the site of much of their history together, including an impromptu sex tape captured by hotel security. Even Derrick couldn’t bear to ride up in it at that moment, so they opted to ride the conventional elevator to his floor instead.
“By the way,” she said, trying to maintain their argument, even though she wasn’t sure why. “Did you get all my stuff from the Bellagio?”
“Yes, dear, as a matter of fact, I did,” he replied in a stable tone, not rising to her bait.
When they reached his room, Derrick motioned her to the bed and then opened his closet door and pointed. “See?” he asked. “All here. It’s like I built a little shrine for you.”
His delivery was so smooth that it took a second for her to catch the joke. When she realized he was trying to be funny, they connected again and shared a soft gaze. In that very moment, Corrine knew that all she wanted was to erase all the bad stuff that had happened between them. If only I had the backbone to admit it.
His final act before leaving was to lock the mini-fridge. “If you need anything, room service will be happy to get it for you,” he said. “Unless it’s from the bar.”
She gasped as if insulted that he was cutting her off. “Gee, Rick, what are you saying?” she chided. “The Tresor isn’t the only liquor store in town, you know.”
“Are you threatening to get more loaded just to spite me?” he demanded.
“I’m a grown woman, and I can do whatever I want,” she replied childishly, even going so far as to stomp her foot on the floor like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“You’re right,” he replied nonchalantly. “If you think it’s dignified to trash yourself to prove your point, go right ahead. Who am I to stop you? Oh, that’s right. I’m your husband.”
Derrick stormed out of the room.
Corrine felt like a fool as he slammed the door behind him, but as she relented and drew herself a nice, hot bath, she was aware of something else. There, in his place, even as drunken and disturbed as she was, she felt right at home.
Chapter 32
It was late by the time Derrick returned to the suite and woke her. She had slept hard, and somehow, she’d avoided a hangover. She didn’t feel a hundred percent perfect, but she felt surprisingly better than she expected, and her body was well rested. Her one major complaint was that her mouth was dry and sour, so she scrambled out of bed to brush her teeth.
Derrick very dutifully entered with a fresh ice bucket, a thoughtful gesture considering that she was parched, as if her whole body was a desert. It was humbling. Despite how nasty she was to him when she was drunk out of her wits, he still took care of her. It was very strange, and while she didn’t remember everything, she did recall some of the worst moments with painful clarity.
There were bottles of water on top of the mini-fridge. She censored her first impulse to make a snarky remark about whether it was okay if she had some, determining that it would be better to act like an adult. Still, as she poured some of the water over ice in a glass left by housekeeping, she sensed something was bothering Derrick. He wasn’t exactly angry, but she knew he wasn’t happy either.
“Would you like a glass?” she asked, literally testing the waters.
“Sure.”
She walked over to him, and his expression intensified. “What?” she asked.
He gave her no verbal response. His eyes simply swept over her.
Corrine looked down at herself and saw that she was still in her bra and panties, a reminder that she’d had nothing to change into after her bath the night before. She wanted to sleep in his shirt, but she was too proud, so she opted for underwear instead.
“Oh, sorry,” she said and hurried to fetch a hotel robe from his closet.
“You must be hungry,” he said. “I thought we could have some dinner and talk about things.”
“Sure, dinner sounds good,” she said, feeling hungry and not hungry at the same time. Something light to nibble on would suffice. “I’ll have two servings of the sorbet.”
He scrunched u
p his face in disapproval. “Just dessert? Are you sure? The cook made a pot of great roasted tomato vegetable soup. It’d be better for you.”
“You’re not my daddy,” she protested, struggling to keep a lid on just flying off the handle.
“That wasn’t what you said a couple weeks ago,” he said sternly. “You loved it when I was.”
Now, it was her turn to scrunch up her face.
“You know very well what I mean,” he said. “But you’re right. I’m not your daddy, but I am your husband.” He flashed the first real smile she’d seen in quite a while.
“It’s not funny, and no, you’re not,” she retorted. “I don’t know how you did it, but it’s fake, and I don’t acknowledge it.”
He gently grabbed her by the chin and turned her head to make her look at him. “What do you mean you don’t know how I did it? And why don’t you think it’s legitimate?”
“Initially, I thought it was illegitimate because I didn’t recall taking a blood test, but I’ve learned that’s not required here. I figured there’d be at least a couple days’ wait, which is apparently also not required. Still, we would have had to apply for licenses in person before we could marry in Vegas.”
Derrick’s face went white, and his eyes narrowed on her. “You don’t remember any of it, do you?” he said.
Corrine shook her head. She suspected she had blacked out for days, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear him confirm it. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she had sacrificed more than one night to alcohol, but there was no taking it back now. “If you’re suggesting—”
“I’m not merely suggesting anything,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m saying we did exactly that.”
“I really don’t want to get in to it,” she said. “I don’t care what we did. I wasn’t aware of it, and I—I just don’t want to be married to you.” She knew even as she said the words that it was a lie, but she stuck with it. If not for the drama, she would have loved to be Mrs. Derrick Quinn, especially if she could live in Paradise with him, away from all those casinos and bars, while they both kept their careers. She wasn’t sure it would ever work, but she secretly wished it would. The problem was that her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit that to him.
“So, tell me,” he said, not ready to let the topic go. “How did we get married?”
Corrine’s only course of action was to get ugly. “I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll tell me about my trip to the ER, about to lose a finger,” she snipped.
“Look, I fully admit that I was totally wrong and selfish for not being by your side,” he said. “I’ll never forgive myself.” He was once again his charming self.
Corrine was a sucker for his honeyed, calm, rational tone, and it entirely disarmed her from saying another hateful word.
“Why don’t we sit down and have a calm, normal dinner?” he asked. “You can have your sorbet if you want it, and I’ll tell you the story of how we got married.”
“I don’t want—”
“This is not up for debate, dear wife,” he said, holding up his hand to stop her. “If I don’t tell you, you’ll never know.”
Chapter 33
The great thing about Vegas was that even in the middle of a desert, with all its unrelenting sun and heat, the rooms in the best hotels were equipped with fireplaces. If Corrine was going to have a conversation that might break her heart, at least she could do it in the perfect setting.
She and Derrick situated themselves on the plush sofa, facing the hologram marble fireplace, feeding themselves and talking. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, of course, keeping their distance, but it was a small step toward coming together again.
Their physical chemistry was more powerful than the two of them, and Derrick was good at working it. Corrine knew she would easily be seduced if she didn’t stay on her toes. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but she did her best to plant herself firmly in his opposition.
“So,” he began. “You and I had definitely had a few that night, and this waitress I know, Teri, inspired you to tell a little white lie, that we were married.”
“Yeah, I actually remember Blondie,” she said acidly.
Her snarky reply did nothing to sidetrack him, so he continued. “Good. Are you going to behave so we can finish this, or…”
“Yeah, whatever,” she said, punctuating it with an eye-roll.
“Do you remember that we insisted on calling each other Mr. and Mrs. Quinn all night?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, again rolling her eyes as if he was irritating her by stating the obvious.
“And do you recall telling the waiter at dinner that we were just passing through to Carson on our way to getting our license?” he asked.
Corrine said nothing, but the blank expression on her face gave away that that was the point when she stopped recalling things.
“When they brought out the wine and the other free stuff, you confessed that we weren’t actually married yet. Do you remember that?” He seemed very pleased with himself.
“Wait, are you trying to say this is all my fault?” she asked in disbelief. “Are you trying to pin this thing on me?”
“No way!” he said. “I was a completely willing participant. I checked us into a room at the Super 8, but we didn’t do much sleeping. We were sober enough for them to grant us a license, but by the time we stood before Elvis to say our vows, we were on our way to getting trashed again.”
“And the ring?” she asked.
Derrick fished in his pocket and produced it. “This one?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess that’s it.”
“You left it at the Bellagio. They were in short supply for women, but mine was good.” He held up his hand and wiggled his finger to show her an identical band, only thicker. “The chapel didn’t have any others in stock, and you have, uh, unusually big knuckles.” He grinned.
She could tell he was poking a bit of fun at her, and she protested vehemently. “I most certainly do not!”
“You do,” he insisted, not raising his voice one bit.
Corrine became animated, flailing her arms about. To stop her hissy fit, Derrick took hold of her wrists and firmly drew her to him. The feel of his body next to hers gave her pause, and she turned her head and pressed it against him.
“Perhaps we should stop here,” he whispered.
She had no answer for him. Pride was a powerful force, and for whatever reason, she held on to hers. “What for? Just get on with it.”
He extended his long arm to her dish and spooned out some of the melting sorbet, then fed it to her as he finished his story. “So, after we were hitched, we decided to go back to the hotel and celebrate some more. Unfortunately, you were cut off. They wanted to kick us out, but I smoothed things over. I took you up to the room and put you to bed. You were out in minutes, completely out.”
“How convenient for you, so you could go downstairs to gamble,” she said calmly.
“Yes,” he answered honestly.
Even though they were sharing difficult truths, it felt like one of the best moments of Corrine’s life. There she was, snuggling against the only man she knew she would ever love, before a fireplace, eating off-the-hook raspberry sorbet. Corrine let herself enjoy it while she could, even if in secret.
Suddenly, she made a move that even she did not expect. She reached for his hand that was spooning sweetness into her mouth and held it still. She gazed up at him with big eyes and saw nothing but kindness in his. It’s too damn easy to love him. Why does he have to look so good?
She couldn’t stop admiring his spectacular face, which looked even better up close. His lips were so perfect that she simply had to lean up just a little to kiss them. Despite all they’d been through and despite her wrath, it was Corrine who made the first move this time.
That little connection unleashed something in him, as if he’d been dying with need and could no longer hold back that hunger. He engulfed her in his ar
ms and legs, holding her warmly in place. The wet heat of his tongue penetrated her mouth and owned it. The physical electricity that only they shared flowed freely and fully, sparking every erogenous point in her, lighting her up all over. Just like that, their moment transformed from confrontational to amorous.
It took so little for her to be completely consumed by her need for him. Their breath raked through their nostrils as they struggled to get even closer to one another. Corrine crawled over him, and Derrick shifted as they sought the perfect position. His dress shirt was open just a bit. He had a habit of unfastening the top few buttons when he was off the clock, and this was no exception.
Corrine pressed her lips to his skin there, finding the incredibly smooth part beneath a light coating of chest hair. Deep desire compelled her to cover him with soft, light kisses. He smelled so good, so clean, so masculine. His scent was an aphrodisiac to her.
He lifted her hair, fluffing it in his loose grip as he kissed the top of her head. He loved to play with her mane, and often after their passionate moments, she had to struggle to detangle it. He drew her up so they were face to face, then flipped over so he was above her and she was sprawled against the plushness of the sofa.
He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, and she helped him push it from his magnificent shoulders. She turned her head, baring her neck for him, knowing it was what he was going to go for next.
She braced herself for the shocking effect of any sort of pressure on her very sensitive place, and in a moment, Derrick had Corrine whimpering. So much emotion and desire loomed within her, and she could not hold back that pent-up passion any longer. She practically yelled with its release, gripping the upholstery with everything she had. She wanted to continue something that was so tough to bear, it was that sensual.
In sweet agitation, his mouth dragged down to her breastbone. He flicked the surface of her skin there with his tongue. Corrine panted, trying to endure the intense sensation. With a quick motion, he worked her out of her bra and panties.