Staying in Vegas by Sam Mariano
5
Laurel
The man does not look nearly as put off as he should at the prospect of me being a stalker.
“Oh yeah?” he asks, seeming to like the idea. “Did you creep in last night and watch me sleep?”
“Of course not; I would have climbed in bed with you and made my presence known.”
“Mm, you’re full of good ideas,” he tells me, warmly. “I almost regret having such an adequate security set-up now. There’s no way you could ever do that, and it’s quickly becoming a fantasy of mine.”
“Well, I could give you the name of my hotel and you could sneak into mine instead,” I suggest, smiling.
“I like that, too.” Now he grabs my hips and tugs me close, encircling my waist with his strong arms. “Except the part where you got a hotel room. If you’re in town to see me, you should be staying with me.”
“You’re really bad at being stalked,” I tell him. “You’re not supposed to be so accommodating. You’re going to get victim-blamed really hard.”
“Believe it or not, I think I can handle myself against a 19-year-old science nerd,” he states, catching a strand of my hair between his fingers and rubbing. “Your hair is different.”
“Well, on average hair does grow a half inch every month, so it’s probably about an inch longer. I wouldn’t have thought a noticeable difference, but…”
“I’m good at noticing things,” he remarks.
“I know. It’s pretty sexy.”
His eyes twinkle as he releases my hair and secures his arm back around my waist, pulling me more snugly against him in the process. “Is this a booty call, or is there another reason for this visit?”
“It’s slightly outside my poor-student budget to make booty calls that necessitate a plane ticket.”
His beautiful lips curve up with amusement. “Don’t worry; I’ll reimburse you.”
The doorbell rings.
“Damn, you get a lot of company,” I state, feeling the absence of his arms as soon as he drops them and moves toward the door.
“Not usually,” he remarks, dryly.
The door swings open and a devastatingly handsome man with dark, slicked-back hair storms across the threshold, his chiseled face drawn with displeasure like a dark angel on a mission of retribution. He halts, clearly surprised, when he sees me standing here.
“Who the fuck is this?”
I flush, then inexplicably hold out my hand like he’ll want to shake it. “Laurel Price.”
He frowns at my hand, then my face, then dismisses me and turns back to Rafe. “Why did I just see someone who looked an awful lot like Cassandra Carmichael driving away from your house?”
“Because someone scheduled an episode of This is Your Life today and didn’t bother to tell me.” Gesturing back at me, Rafe adds, “Sin, this is Laurel. Laurel, this rude asshole here is Sin.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I say, dryly.
Rafe cracks a smile. “Sin and I are heading out to grab some dinner. You eat yet?”
“No, I got off the plane and came straight here.”
He nods once in approval. “Good. You’ll come out with us.”
I notice he doesn’t ask, but that doesn’t surprise me. In our few days together, I picked up on the fact that the Vegas boss is a little… well, bossy. It’s super hot in the bedroom. I don’t hate it outside the bedroom, either, strangely enough. Especially when he’s offering me food.
Jabbing a finger in my direction, the one called Sin asks, “We’re bringing her? To dinner? Why?”
Wow, he is rude.
Cutting him a look that wordlessly directs his friend to lay off, Rafe says simply, “Because I said so.”
Rafe tells us he has to grab his phone out of the other room and leaves me alone in the foyer with the newcomer for an uncomfortable moment. Sin shoots me a disgruntled look, much like the blonde woman did. Maybe he’s in love with Rafe, too. I can’t say I’d blame him. Rafe seems to attract admirers—and since I fell into his bed the same day I met him, I’d be a pretty big hypocrite to hold it against anyone else.
Since Sin clearly isn’t going to initiate the conversation, I take it upon myself to do so. “So, are you a friend of Rafe’s, or a family member?”
Sin’s dark eyes land on me and cause my stomach to sink. They’re just brown eyes, but I swear I can see murderous intent when I look into them, and all I did was ask a friendly question. Damn, this is an intimidating man.
“Just making conversation,” I explain. “To be polite. Not a secret cop or anything.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me like he can’t begin to guess why I would say something like that.
I grimace. “Which, I realize, is a suspicious thing to say, but I’m definitely not. I’m 19. I’m still in college. I’m from Chicago. I met Rafe… in Chicago. Over Easter. At his cousin’s house.”
Still, he stares wordlessly.
I shift my weight. “Well, his cousin Mateo. His other cousin Vince is married to my sister. So… lots of cousins. That’s why I was wondering if you were another Morelli cousin, or…?”
Nothing.
I swallow. “I’ll just stand here quietly and wait for Rafe.”
“There you go,” he says, since I finally picked the right option.
Thankfully, Rafe comes back in. There’s an air of command in the way he sweeps across the room, so coolly confident of his own control. He’s not even trying and I already feel my insides beginning to melt.
“Your little girlfriend here has a big mouth,” Sin states, upon Rafe’s entrance.
Rafe smirks and comes to my side, sliding his hand down to the small of my back and tugging me against his hard body. “I have no complaints about Laurel’s mouth.”
God, that voice.
Wanna play with me, kitten?
I throb between the legs as memories flash through my mind from Easter, me kneeling on the floor in front of him, the incredible cock he possesses right in front of my face, but I wasn’t allowed to have it yet. I looked up at him, so strong, so self-possessed, so beautiful. His big hand brushed my jaw tenderly as that sexy voice commanded evenly for me to beg him.
My heart thuds dully in my chest and I lick my lips, trying to stay focused. His hand presses me closer and my heart sinks into my stomach, still beating like a drum.
I hear Sin’s voice but I can’t make out words. Rafe is smiling down at me, still pleasantly. He dips his head to kiss me. At the mere brush of his perfect lips, the part of my brain that’s still working goes into standby mode.
His lips are so tender while his grip in my hair adds just a touch of roughness. I can scarcely breathe, but I open my mouth for him and his tongue sweeps in. My whole body dissolves in a pit of raging flames. I’ve lain awake so many nights thinking about his touch, his kiss, how it felt to have him inside me. It may have been the biggest mistake of my life, but it was the best one, too.
My blood begins to cool, cold fear moving down my spine as I remember why I’m here. This isn’t a booty call. I’m not here for kisses or dinners; I’m here to tell him…
Fuck. I’m here to tell him I’m pregnant.
Now this Sin guy is here. He already doesn’t like me, so I’m not going to bring it up in front of him.
I’m ushered out to a sleek black sedan with tinted windows and a front grill that seems somehow angry. Clearly this car belongs to Sin; it’s as welcoming as its owner. I can’t help flicking a glance at the back of the car, my thoughts turning to the trunk. I bet it would be hard to shove a body into a trunk.
Rafe opens the back door for me and I slide in. I don’t know why, but I expect him to sit up front with Sin, who is apparently driving. The front is a place I associate with the people in charge, and the back is for passengers. Only, Rafe slides in right next to me and pulls the door shut.
Now that we’re both inside, his arm snakes behind me, curving around my shoulders, and he tugs me into his chest. I’m immediately flooded with how safe I felt there, nestled against his chest back in Chicago.
“So, how’s school going?” he asks.
“Well,” I tell him. “I made the dean’s list.”
He offers up a smile that makes me feel almost prouder than the accomplishment itself. “Look at you, preparing to set the world on fire.”
Even though I’m flattered, I find myself saying, “It’s not a big deal. It’s easy to make the dean’s list. Just show up to class and stay awake.”
“I doubt it’s that easy. If it is for you, I doubt it’s that easy for everyone,” he says, simply.
I begin to lose focus on his words, though, as his fingertips move ever so lightly over the swatch of exposed skin around my collar bone. I wore a gray off-the-shoulder shirt today, so there’s a good bit of skin available for him to touch without undressing me.
I recall him doing this when I was nervous in the bedroom that first night in Chicago. For all that I decided to go all-in and follow him to his bedroom for my first one-night-stand, once I got there, my nerves crawled back out. No longer drunk on the sight of him holding a baby or the general crush of Morelli Kool-Aid I must have been chugging while I was at Mateo’s giant house, going to bed with the sexiest man ever seemed mildly terrifying. Rafe settled my nerves effortlessly with his little finger-tracing trick.
Now he does it again and my inhibitions slip away, my tether to sensation strengthening and overtaking my knowledge that I’m in a car and we’re not alone. It’s not that I don’t know that, it just seems so much less important than where his hand might go next.
His index finger dips inside my shirt, sliding toward my breast. My breath quickens, but it’s gone just as fast. I bring my eyes to his face and see a faint smile tugging at the corners of his luscious lips. He’s teasing me, the bastard. I open my mouth to say something, but seeing an opening, he takes it. Rafe’s lips claim mine, his hand sliding up to cup my neck so he can draw me closer. Everything outside of him feels fuzzy and unimportant, no longer part of my reality.
I should be buckled in, but I’m not. I should keep my ass in my seat, but I don’t. All it takes is a firm palm pushing against my hip and my fuzzy mind recognizes his wordless command to straddle him. Without breaking away from his lips, I climb on his lap, facing him. Still with the one hand on my neck, he settles the other on my waist. Blood rushes through my veins, racing toward my vagina. Everything throbs and I grind against him, pleased by the tightening of his hands on my body and the way he pulls me against him to feel how hard he is.
Pleasure courses through me. It’s like an aphrodisiac in and of itself, being wanted by him. I have the hardest time not ripping his clothes off, but I settle for undoing the top button of his dress shirt and sliding my hand inside. As soon as my hand connects with his firm, muscled chest, I feel like I’m on fire. Then he draws my bottom lip between his and sucks on it, sending shooting stars of pleasure through my not-at-all-prepared body.
Another sound pierces the fog of lust, but I struggle to care. I think I would ignore it altogether and let Rafe fuck me right here in the backseat, before we even get off his road, but Rafe breaks the kiss and glances up front.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
What’s fine? My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath. Rafe does not look nearly as out of sorts as I feel. There’s warmth in his eyes, but otherwise you can’t tell he just kissed me out of my senses.
I feel stripped bare and vulnerable before him already. He has to excrete some sort of magical pheromone, I swear to God. Now that I’m not being actively kissed, my brain begins to work again. I remain here in his lap, but now I snuggle up against him, leaning my head on his shoulder and burrowing into the sanctuary of his broad, muscular chest. It’s absurd to feel so safe with someone so dangerous, but I can’t help it. Whatever he is, whatever he does, Rafe has never been anything but good to me.
His hand lazily rubs my back. “Which hotel are you staying at, kitten?”
Pleasure blossoms low in my tummy, hearing him call me by that name again. “I haven’t booked one yet. Like I said, I came straight to your house from the airport.”
“No luggage. Just staying overnight?”
I nod my head against his shoulder. “Yeah. It was sort of an impulsive decision. I have a toothbrush and change of panties in my purse. I am otherwise unprepared.”
Chuckling, he kisses the top of my head and says, “We’ll pick up whatever you need while we’re out.”
“Thank you.”
“Mm hmm. Thank you for coming to visit me.” His hand leaves my waist and slides between my legs. My breath hitches as he rubs me through the fabric of my jeans. “I’ll make it worth the trip.”
I need the friction. I should be embarrassed since we aren’t alone in this car—I’ve certainly never done anything in front of anyone before—but as he slips the button through the hole and drags down my zipper, I can’t find it in me to stop him. I probably should, but as his big, strong hand slides inside and he cups my pussy, I can’t for the life of me remember why.
Instead of behaving like a decent human being, I keep my face braced against his shoulder and rock my hips forward, pushing myself into his hand. The hand that was cupping my neck gathers my hair and pulls it away from my neck. My skin prickles with awareness, and a moment later he’s moving his lips along that column of sensitive skin. Unexpectedly, he clutches a fistful of hair and yanks my head off his shoulder, pulling me in for a much more brutal kiss. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I meet it with equal measures of dread and expectation, knowing he’s going to rob me of what little control I have, but craving it, too.
“You two wanna simmer down back there?”
As casually as if we were only holding hands, Rafe tosses back, “What’s wrong, Sin, has it been a while?”
Whatever Sin’s response is, it’s nonverbal. Rafe grins, but nevertheless releases his grip on my hair and pulls me back into the shelter of his chest. His hand is still in my pants, and he gives my pussy a little caress, promising without words to come back to it later.
“After dinner we’ll get rid of the prude up front so we can have some fun, how’s that sound?” Rafe asks.
“Sounds perfect,” I murmur, before brushing my lips against his neck.
