Play to Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  But kissing is for real.

  He smiles at me, bends his head, and brushes his mouth over mine.

  My belly flutters and flips even at that brief touch, my skin electrifying. We stare into each other’s eyes again, and then Théo wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me up against him, like when we were dancing earlier, except this is different. Then he crushes his mouth to mine.

  I melt into him, clutching the bouquet of pink silk roses in one hand, the other going to his neck. My mouth opens to his hungry kiss, and, oh my God, he tastes good, he feels good, and wow, can he ever kiss.

  We draw apart, breathing a little fast, blinking a lot. I swallow. “Wow,” I whisper.

  “Yeah.” He smiles.

  We pose for photos, which I don’t take seriously at all given our rumpled, drunken state, making faces at the camera while Théo dips me in his arms and I clutch my tiara, then me pretending to throw my bouquet.

  Amazingly, our taxi is still waiting for us. I have no idea how much the fare will be, but apparently Théo doesn’t care. He directs the driver to take us back to the Wellborne.

  Standing out front, the lights in the hotel lobby glowing, we face each other. Our eyes meet in another one of those showers of sparks that keeps happening, sparks I feel way down low in my belly.

  What happens now?

  I think about that kiss at the chapel, and how I want more. And yet, I’m nervous.

  “What do you want to do?” Théo asks in a husky voice. “Celebrate?”

  “Absolutely!” I jump on this suggestion. “It’s only one-thirty in the morning. Early by Vegas standards.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

  “Yeah.”

  The Strip is still glittering and flashing, still lots people walking, cars swishing up and down Las Vegas Boulevard.

  He takes my hand. “Let’s wander a bit.”

  “Wait. I want to change my shoes.” I sit on the stone wall and pull my Chucks out of my backpack.

  Théo grins.

  We stop at a place that has tables and chairs outside on a patio, and he buys us burgers and fries.

  “Thank you,” I say, picking up a French fry. “If only they had chocolate sauce.”

  “Say what now?”

  I laugh. “I love chocolate sauce on my fries.”

  He tilts his head and gives me a narrow-eyed look. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s good. Salty and sweet. You must have some kind of weird food combo you like.”

  “Uh…okay, but you can’t tell anyone else.” He leans closer.

  I mime zipping my lips shut.

  “I put salt and pepper on apples.”

  My eyes pop wide. “No way!”

  “Hey. I accepted your weird food fetish.”

  “It’s not a fetish,” I object, picking up another fry. “A fetish is a sexual desire. Although I’ll admit chocolate on fries is nearly orgasmic.” I eat my fry, then ask, “Do you have food fetishes?”

  “No. Not food.”

  “Oh…what then?” I too lean forward.

  “I don’t think we know each other well enough to share our sexual fetishes.”

  “We’re married!”

  “Hmm. True. Okay, I’ll share mine. I love long hair.”

  I smile and fluff my hair. “Oh really?”

  He eyes my hair with such a heated look I feel it down between my legs again. “Yeah.”

  After we finish eating, we stroll along the Strip. As we walk, we approach a couple of women dressed in what I guess are supposed to be cop uniforms, although the short shorts and tight jackets over silver-sequin bras are probably not regulation.

  “Hey, guys! You wanna get spanked?” One woman holds up a crop, the other a pair of cuffs.

  “Speaking of fetishes,” Théo mutters.

  We keep going, laughing.

  “Is it the uniform that turns you on?” I tease. “Or the spanking?”

  “I’m not into being spanked.”

  “Ah.” This is interesting.

  We next encounter a man in a Batman costume who jumps out at us with his wings spread, then a couple of women dressed like showgirls with big feathered wings and headpieces, except they’re both clearly drunk. One has a drooping wing and a broken heel on her shoe, making her limp, the other holding on to her, her headpiece sagging over her eyes.

  We go into a couple of casinos, and Théo spends twenty dollars on a few slot machines. I refuse to touch the things because I’m terrified that I’ll be like Chris, and the slot machines will be like crack and once I push those buttons I’ll be addicted and descend into gambling hell.

  When we leave there, we pass a place that sells tequila slushies. “As if we need more booze,” he mutters, but then he buys us each one to go, and we carry them as we stroll down the street. I suck some back and, whoa—not only are these huge, they’re strong.

  Eventually we stop and sit on the edge of the fountain outside the Cipriani, drinking our slushies. I toe off my shoes and swivel to put my feet into the cool water. “Aaaaah.”

  “Is that allowed?” Théo asks.

  “I have no idea. I don’t care. It’s not like there are a lot of people around.”

  He takes off his shoes, rolls his pants up, and dunks his feet.

  “You don’t wear socks.”

  “Nope. Never. Socks are the devil.”

  I laughed. “Even with a suit?”

  “Even with a suit.”

  I stir my slushie with the straw. “Okay, tell me more about where we’re going.”

  “Marina del Rey. A guy who used to play for the Condors owns the condo. Apparently there are three units, and his was sitting empty, so I’m renting it from him.”

  “The Condors are…?”

  “The team I’ll be working for. The California Condors.”

  “Ah.”

  “My mom’s helping get things set up for me.”

  “Your parents live there too?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Well, not Santa Monica. My dad actually owns a different team.”

  “What? Are you serious?” I gape at him. “Your family owns two hockey teams?”

  He smiles. “It does sound kind of crazy, doesn’t it? My grandpa owns the Condors, and my dad owns the Golden Eagles in Long Beach. Well, my dad and some other investors. That’s a pretty recent thing.” He sighs. “I think my dad just bought the team to piss off my grandpa.”

  “That’s quite a gesture.” I can’t even imagine how much a hockey team costs, but I’m sure it’s more than I’ll ever see in my lifetime. “He must have been really pissed.”

  “It’s a long story. Long and ugly.”

  “Ugh. Families.” I hold out my slushie cup.

  He taps his against it. “Right?”

  “So you’re going to work for your grandpa…and your dad’s team will be one of your opponents.”

  “Yep.”

  “What does your dad think of that?”

  “Now he’s pissed at me too. Fraternizing with the enemy.”

  I study the way his jaw has tensed. “That must have been a tough decision.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. It was.”

  “Your dad will get over it.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t know how my dad holds a grudge.”

  “But you’re his son.” I bump his shoulder with mine.

  “Eh. Who knows. Meanwhile, I have a job to do.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Isn’t that young to be running a team? How old is Jeff?”

  Théo’s lips curve. “Jeff’s forty-five. There’s only been
one other GM in the league who was under thirty.”

  “That’s impressive. Or did your grandpa just hire you to piss off your dad?”

  His entire body tenses, and I slap my hand to my mouth. “I’m kidding! Of course he didn’t do that.”

  “Not so sure,” he mutters, dropping his head. “Although he did talk a good game when he came to recruit me. I either have the most amazing opportunity ever or I’ve been completely suckered.”

  “You don’t strike me as a sucker.”

  “Kinda felt that way when my girlfriend was cheating on me with my brother behind my back.”

  Right. He’d mentioned that earlier. “That doesn’t make you a sucker,” I say firmly. “That makes them jerks.”

  His smile warms me and he leans into me. “Thanks.”

  I eye Théo. He rescued me from those thugs earlier. Twice, sort of. He seems like a good guy, maybe a little nerdy, but that’s not a bad thing. His body is anything but nerdy, though, and I’m finding him more and more attractive.

  And he feels like a pathetic loser because of what his skanky ex-girlfriend did. I run my tongue over my teeth. I can’t wait to meet that bish and make her realize what she lost out on.

  “Oh my God!” I throw my hand out toward the lightening sky. “The sun is coming up!”

  “Happens every morning,” he agrees.

  “We’ve been up all night!”

  “Yep.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “I plan to leave at noon. It’s about a four-and-a-half-hour drive.”

  “Oh my God. You must want to get some sleep before we go.”

  “That would probably be a good idea.”

  I shake my head. “This is so nuts.”

  “Yep.” He swivels, stands, and holds out a hand. “Come on.”

  We walk back to the Wellborne, not the only ones staggering down the Strip at dawn. In the lobby, I pause at seeing some of the shops which stay open twenty-four/seven. “I’m going to need a few things.”

  “I can take you to your place to pack some stuff before we leave tomorrow.”

  “Today.”

  “Oh yeah. Right.”

  “Okay. I’ll just grab a couple of things for now.”

  I pick up a toothbrush, toothpaste, and antiperspirant. A pair of panties and a sundress to wear later. I have other basics in my backpack—a makeup kit, hairbrush—which will get me through til I can get home. I also grab a phone charger. I pay for these items with the tip I was given earlier, for which I am now grateful.

  We go up to Théo’s room. Walking in, quiet coolness envelops us. A suitcase sits open on the luggage rack, the contents packed with precise neatness. Unlike how I pack. Not that I’ve traveled a lot.

  I yawn.

  “Tired?”

  “I think I’m crashing. Can you be hungover before you even go to sleep?”

  He chuckles. “Possibly. Want a shower before we go to bed?”

  The air in the room instantly goes hot. Electricity sizzles over my nerve endings as we eye each other. I know what we’re both thinking.

  Chapter 7

  Lacey

  “Probably a good idea,” I say in a husky voice.

  He gestures to the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll shower after.”

  I can’t help the flicker of disappointment. I nod and trudge into the bathroom, suddenly exhausted. There, I wash my hair, face, and body, which still smell a little like the chlorine in the pool, and after, rub hotel-provided body lotion into my skin.

  I only half-dry my hair because it takes for-freaking-ever, it’s so long and thick. I just want to get most of the water out of it. It’ll look terrible later, but I’ll deal with it.

  Théo’s sprawled in a chair looking at his phone when I come out, a towel wrapped around me. He’s already shed his pants and shirt, and is in his boxers, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.

  “Your turn!” I say brightly, clutching my towel.

  He looks at me and his eyes sweep down from my face to my toes and back up, lingering on my bare legs and then my shoulders. My skin heats and my belly does a little flip.

  He drops his phone on the dresser and rises. He moves toward me, and in the narrow space there’s barely room for him to pass me without touching. He deliberately sets his hands on my waist to shift me out of the way and shivery sensation slides down inside me.

  But he keeps going and strides into the bathroom.

  A sigh escapes me.

  I open the curtains and gaze out at the early morning view of Vegas, mountains hazy in the distance. Then I dig in my purse for my phone and send Karine a text message.

  I deliberate over what exactly to tell her. No matter what I say, she’s going to freak out, so I settle for telling her I’m going to Los Angeles for a while. I don’t want to alarm her, but…I bite my lip.

  Théo left his wallet on the dresser, so I flip it open. The water’s still running in the bathroom. Feeling a bit guilty, I finger through it and find his driver’s license. He’s already changed it to a California license with his new address, so that’s a win. I take a picture of it with my phone and send it to Karine.

  I am with this man. If you don’t hear from me in a week

  I pause. Delete, delete, delete.

  I am with this man. If you don’t hear from me in three days, call the police and tell th

  Delete, delete, delete.

  I am with this man. Just FYI. We’re going to Marina del Rey for a while.

  I slide the license back into his wallet as I hear the water stop. Still no contact from Chris. Damn.

  I eye the lone king-size bed in the room. I should be in bed when Théo comes out, but…dammit. I smack my forehead. I didn’t buy anything to sleep in.

  I did buy panties though, and I quickly pull a pair out of the bag, remove the tags, and slip them on under the towel.

  Théo emerges with a towel around his waist, and once again, it’s hard to tear my eyes away. Jesus on a pita, he’s in good shape. Droplets of water cling to his golden skin—he must not spend all his time in an office, because he’s got a tan—and I want to lick them off, starting at the one just above his navel…or maybe that one tracing down over a very fit oblique…

  I lift my gaze to see him watching me. I hope I’m not literally drooling. I wipe my mouth, heat spreading from my chest up to my face, turning my cheeks what must be crimson. “I, uh, was going to get into bed, but I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

  His lips quirk. “Fine with me.”

  I tilt my head and give him a reproving look.

  He strides over to his suitcase and pulls out a neatly folded T-shirt. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” It’s super soft, well-worn gray cotton. Swallowing, I give him my back, drop the towel, and lower the shirt over my head. I hear a faint noise almost like a groan as I do so, and I know he’s watching me, naked other than white panties that don’t cover much.

  I turn to face him, lifting my hair free of the shirt. He’s still standing in the exact same spot, his eyes glittering behind his glasses, his lips parted.

  My body vibrates with tension and arousal as heat flares between us.

  I break the eye contact and move over to the bed, tugging the puffy duvet back to slide beneath it.

  Heaven.

  I worked at this hotel, but I’ve sure as hell never slept here. This bed is amazing. The mattress molds to my body, the pillow is like a cloud, and the duvet sinks slowly down over me in a light hug.

  Théo turns to his suitcase and yep, I watch as he drops the towel and steps into another pair of boxers. My chest tightens and my belly heats seeing his amazing body completely naked—from behind, mind you. It’s an athlete’s bod
y, with strong thighs, a firm ass I want to bite, and rippling muscles all up his back.

  When I assumed the guys he was with were all hockey players, he said he didn’t play hockey. Not anymore, anyway.

  Which means he must have played hockey at some point. That would explain the muscles. I need to know more.

  Except…I’m so very sleepy…I’m not so drunk that the room is spinning, but I’m definitely buzzed. My eyes drift closed.

  I vaguely feel the bed move as Théo joins me, the duvet lifting then settling again. He hesitates, then wraps an arm around my middle and pulls my back against his front. I wriggle in to get comfy, reveling in the feel of hot, hair-roughened male skin, big bones and muscles curved around me, which elicits another faint groan. Laying my hand over his arm, I plunge into sleep.

  Théo

  I’m dreaming about birds. No, cats. No…it’s a baby. Crying.

  But right here beside me, in bed.

  Not a baby. It’s Lacey.

  I jerk out of sleep and into wakefulness. “Lacey.” I set a hand on her shoulder. She’s rolled away from me and onto her stomach, her shoulders shaking, her face buried in the pillow, which muffles her sobs. I massage her gently. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head violently and takes a shuddery breath.

  “Baby. Shhh. It’s okay.” I stroke my hand up and down her back over my T-shirt. Crying usually freaks me out, but right now I only have a strong urge to comfort her and protect her. “It’s okay.”

  I have no idea what she’s crying about. Clearly, it’s not okay, but I don’t know what else to say.

  “Tell me,” I urge softly. “What’s wrong?”

  “M-my brother.” She shifts onto her side and swipes at her face. “I can’t believe he d-did that to me.”

  “Ah.”

  I guess it just sunk in, after our night of drunken revelry. What he did was definitely a douche move.

  “He sent those guys after me!” She sobs again. “His own sister! How could he do that?”

  I have no answer for that, because I want to punch Chris’s face. Repeatedly.