Page 38 of Menace in Vegas

In between his babe comments, he steals a piece of my toast like we’re some old married couple.

He even rubs my back while talking about “our future,” which makes me choke on my coffee.

When we finish eating, he tips Betty extra.

“Gotta treat my wife right.”

I shove him as soon as we hit the parking lot.

"What the hell was that?”

He shrugs. "What? You heard Betty. I’m a good one."

I gape at him.

"You—you can’t just?—"

He grins, opening the passenger door for me.

"After you, Mrs. Byrns."

I whip my to-go coffee at him.

He catches it, not spilling a drop.

I stare at him, vibrating with rage.

Smug bastard.

I hope he spills it on his lap and burns his dick.

* * *

We checkin at another roadside inn.

I’m on high alert.

As soon as Connor says we need a room, I open my mouth to correct him, but he tickles my side, making me squirm and giggle.

He doesn’t stop until the clerk hands him the key.

I protest, but he wraps his arm around me, pulling me against him. “Come along, wife.”

I’m fairly certain I have an aneurysm from his words.

We get to the room, and once again, I’m in hell.

One room.

Onesmall bed.

I toss my bag onto the chair and beeline for the bathroom, already planning to lock myself in there if necessary.

But Connor grabs my wrist, tugging me so suddenly that I land right in his lap.

I stop breathing.

His arms cage around me.

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