Page 50 of Menace in Vegas

I storm into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the walls shake.

* * *

When I finally emerge,Connor is still lounging in bed, his back against the pillows, stretched out like a king on a throne.

He scrolls on his phone for a few beats before finally glancing up, then back down, dismissing me.

I fume.

He reaches over, grabs his coffee, and takes a slow sip, his eyes dancing mischievously over the rim.

He sets it on the nightstand, then nods his head at the other nightstand. “I got you one, too.”

I blow out a breath, desperately needing the caffeine.

My hand curls around the cup, and a feeling of relaxation courses through me as I lift it to my mouth, moaning when the taste hits my tongue.

“Wife.”

I sputter, spitting out the delicious, life-sustaining nectar as I cough and choke.

He chuckles darkly. “What? You act like it’s not the truth.”

“It’s NOT!” I choke out, rage boiling through my veins. “We aren’t married.”

He leans back, that devilish smirk never wavering. “Yet.”

“Connor. I swear?—”

“If you’re not attracted to me,” he interrupts smoothly. “Why do you keep reacting like you’re trying to convince yourself you’re not?”

“I—”

I swallow hard, shaking with frustration.

“You’re delusional.”

“Maybe.” His gaze flicks over me, slow and consuming. “But you keep coming back to me, don’t you?”

18

CONNOR

Watching Allie suffer is the highlight of my existence.

She’s flustered by my proximity as we pack up to get back on the road.

When I brush against her while asking her a question, she stammers out her answer, her cheeks flaming.

She looks one second away from throwing herself into oncoming traffic just to escape me.

But there’s no way in hell she’s escaping me.

Not now.

Not ever.

* * *

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