Page 41 of Nothing Stays in Vegas

“No, I’m more your anything worth doing is worth doing well guy.”

Yes, he was, the smug schmuck. “Well, I’m waiting. Do something well.”

“Always did like a challenge.” He started with a sweater, pulling it from the others and getting it over her breasts before she started laughing and pulling it back down. He gave it another few tugs before he was laughing with her. “Damn, Vetta, you could get an easy-unlock zipper or something. I’m gonna need a hacksaw to get you out of these things.”

“You’re the one planning to have sex on this godforsaken chair. If either of us is demanding the impossible, it’s you.”

“I thought you wanted to try everything.”

She tried to get a little of her sarcasm back, but she was feeling too light. Too happy. “Are you claiming that my experiences won’t be complete unless we do it on a beat-up recliner?”

“No, but I’ll be able to check it off my fantasy list.”

She stilled his hands with her own. “Since when have you fantasized about me?”

He didn’t want to answer that one, she could tell. But she wanted to know. When he moved his head to look away, she touched his chin and drew his gaze back to her own. “Tell me.”

“I just know I’m going to regret this, but it won’t hurt anything to tell you now, I guess.” He brought a fingertip to her lips, tracing the shape and parting the bottom from the top. “I had my first fantasy about…ten seconds after I met you. You were passing my seat on the step in the lecture hall and snagged your foot on my bag. You didn’t fall but your mouth… It made this perfect ‘O’. I’ve never forgotten it.”

Vetta forced herself not to purse her lips for him now, the flesh of her lips tingling beneath his touch. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were twelve.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was eighteen.”

“Barely. Believe me, the last thing I had time for was a virgin with stars in her eyes.”

Vetta started, the sensual spell around them breaking. “You say that like being a virgin is a bad thing.”

“No, virginity is fine. But virgins generally get it in their heads that the first man they sleep with is their one true love or some other kind of bullshit.” He had no trouble rediscovering his dry sarcasm. “I’m no one’s Prince Charming.”

Note number eighty-six: Virginity is a turn-off.

 

; Vetta nodded, more to herself than in understanding. “Is this a common thinking among men?”

“I can’t speak for all of mankind or anything.” He chuckled, then seemed to realize he’s said something wrong because he sobered fast. “Anyone committed to their goals who isn’t a selfish bastard would avoid a virgin as best he can. It’s only common sense.” He turned his head to study her. “Are you making mental notes?”

Uh oh. “Why would I do that?”

“’Cause you have that look. The one that says you’re filing something away for later.”

That made her smile. “You’ve catalogued my expressions?”

“Know thine enemy. I figured out a lot about reading body language on the football field. Saved my ass more than a few times, let me tell you.” He smiled, seemingly to himself, probably over all kinds of situations.

Well, that explained plenty. He’d escaped most of her traps by reading her physical cues. Did that mean he’d always know when she was keeping something from him? The last thing she wanted was to fill him in on her sexual status. If virginity was a turn-off, deflowering was probably a complete ball-breaker.

He refocused on her, as if something just occurred to him. “What do you care about virgins, anyway?”

Nope. Definitely not telling him.

Luckily, she knew Travis probably as well as he seemed to know her. He’d caught the scent of her thoughts. He needed distracting.

His thumb was still poised just beneath her bottom lip. She pulled back only far enough to purse her lips around the tip. “Was it like this?”

His gaze flickered, interest in the chocolaty depths. “Was what like this?”

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