Page 18 of Nothing Stays in Vegas

Another step closer. “You couldn’t.”

Another step back, into the unyielding wall. “You’re putting me on a pedestal. I don’t belong there.”

Cal closed the distance between them. “I don’t believe you.”

Resting one hand against the wall above her head, he used the other to brush open the towel wrapped around her, exposing the sodden shirt clinging to her breasts. The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You’re going to give in, Lara…” He ran his fingers feather-light across her collarbone, pressed one knee against the wall opposite the arm that flanked her.

Her breath sucked in, a pulse throbbed deep between her legs. She didn’t dare look at him. His seductive confidence terrified her.

His voice was low, deep. “…because, I’m not going to play fair.”

She swallowed hard. Having him this close was wreaking havoc on her body. The rippled muscles of his torso were only inches away from the puckered skin of her nipples and she ached to arch into him, to ease the need that had been growing in her for weeks. She wanted to stretch her hands wide over his stomach and absorb the touch and feel of every ridge, every hollow.

“Can you say you don’t want me?” He ran his hand along the side of her ribs, across the swells of her breast, to the valley between her breasts.

She peered up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “I don’t know what I want…”

“You don’t know…if you want this?” His fingers stroked down to her abdomen, dipping into the top of her shorts so t

hat his knuckles rubbed the soft skin below her belly button.

She sucked her tummy in. Unable to stop herself, she gazed into the dark pools of Cal’s eyes and felt herself pulled further under his control.

“I want it,” she gasped, “but there’s more than just that.”

His fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt. God, she wanted him to rip them open, press her against the wall and take her before she had the chance to talk herself out of it. But he tortured her, tracing the outer edge of each button, playing with it before abandoning it, still fastened, to move on. His open palm skimmed a fraction of an inch above her breast, the heat permeating the fabric beneath, tormenting her aching, hard nipple.

Cal lowered his head to her ear, his lips resting against the outer shell. Warm air teased the whorl in rhythmic puffs with each breath, sending chills skittering across her skin. It was too much, the almost-touch of him against her, she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. It was too much to keep saying no.

Cal whispered to her. “Lie to me, Lara.” His hips leaned into her, his hand closed the scant distance between them, his thumb stroking her nipple, his palm cupping her breast.

She gasped, her pussy throbbing, sending a hot rush of wet warmth between her legs.

“Lie to me.” His lips grazed her skin, never breaking the connection as he dragged them from her ear down to her jaw and over to the corner of her mouth. “If that’s what’s stopping you, tell me it wasn’t you in Vegas.”

Lara stared at the face so close to hers. He was waiting. She was lost. In a whisper so low it was barely audible, the words slipped out. “It wasn’t me…”

Chapter Eight

No more indecision and trying to figure a way out that was fair and right. Lara needed him for herself. Cal wanted her, and she’d never wanted a man like she wanted him. His offer was her lifeline, her chance to have it all. Hating herself, but unable to stop, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head, throwing it aside. Cal stood frozen in place, his body tensed like it took every ounce of his control to hold back. His endless blue eyes searched hers, their intensity making her quiver.

She said it again, feeling the weight of it lifting off her. “It wasn’t me.”

His restraint snapped. She was in his arms, gasping as he crushed her against him, taking her in a hungry kiss, urgent and demanding. Her hands slid over the hard terrain of his chest, cleaving to his unyielding shoulders. She opened wide to him, meeting the thrust of his tongue with a quivering moan. He moved in her mouth, plunging deep, stroking her palate. His kiss tasted like possession, each thrust of his tongue a claim that tightened the coil of need spiraling through her.

His hand roved over her back, down the curve of her butt to her thigh and hiked her leg against his hip. Their wet clothes rubbed between them, and Cal broke away from the kiss with a growl.

“Don’t—” she gasped, reaching for him. She’d given in and now she couldn’t stop—couldn’t let him stop. But he wasn’t. He dropped to his knees and tugged Lara’s shorts down her hips and off her legs.

Standing against the wall wearing only her pink bra and panties, both soaked and showing every raised bump and wet valley, she felt a fresh wave of moisture pool between her legs. She wanted him to see her, past all the lies she’d thrown in his face and into the truth at the center of her.

Cal groaned, kneeling before her, his eyes level with her pussy as he dragged the panties, wet and clinging to her skin, down as well. He helped her step out of them and then planted his hands on her hips. Circling the tender skin at the junction of her thighs with his thumbs, he parted the swollen lips of her pussy, releasing the musky scent of her sex and a dribble of juices down her inner thigh.

“I need you…” she panted.

He leaned into her and ran the tip of his tongue between her folds, passing in one fleeting second over her throbbing clit. Her breath caught in her throat, every nerve in her body sizzled with the anticipation of more.

One hand circled behind her thigh and guided her leg over his shoulder. He bowed forward again, this time laving her with the flat of his tongue in one long, smooth, slow stroke. She whimpered softly at the caress, her center pulsing with need.

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