“You’re so quiet,” he murmured into her ear, his breath tickling her skin in a way that made her long for his lips to brush up against her. She itched for it. She ached for it.
“Just thinking,” she said, splaying her hand over the taut muscles of his back.
“About?”
She tipped her head to look up at him. “Tomorrow.”
He paused. “Really? I’m thinking about tonight.”
“You worried about the plane?”
He shook his head, his eyes turning the color of thick smoke, as his hand slid up her ribcage, brushing purposefully against the side of her breast. “I’m not thinking quite that far in the future.”
Her heart thudded in response to his caress. Her skin prickled with anticipation. And her body convulsed with longing.
She swallowed, hardly able to form the words. “We still have the suite.”
He stared at her, but didn’t say a word. Then his arm tightened firmly around her waist, and he turned them both toward the nightclub door.
Outside, the air was sultry warm, thunderclouds had gathered above the skyscrapers, holding the daytime heat. Their forked lightning strikes sparked like lasers in the haze, faint thunder echoing after.
Halfway down the block, the first raindrops splattered on the warm concrete, and Kristy and Jack joined the other tourists who scattered for shelter.
Damp and laughing, they made it to the Bellagio lobby.
Jack turned to look at her, taking in the rain-spattered dress, smoothing her damp hair back from her face. “You are so beautiful.”
Kristy inhaled. “So are you.”
He glanced at his watch. “We’ve only got a couple of hours.” Then he looked into her eyes again, voice bedroom-husky. “I can’t believe we put this off so long.”
“What were we thinking?”
He took her hand and started across the lobby. “I don’t know.”
But instead of heading for the main elevator block which provided the more direct line to their room, he took a circuitous route past the shops. She wondered if they needed something from a store. Condoms, maybe? It wasn’t the height of romance, but she supposed practical was practical.
But they carried on past the Essentials store, around the courtyard pool area.
“Did you rent us a cabana?” she asked. The suite was fine. The suite was wonderful. And, really, the clock was ticking.
Jack shook his head. He slowed, turning to look at her as they passed the grand balcony. “I don’t want this to end.”
“The walk to our room?”
His mouth curved in an ironic grin. He squeezed her hand while shaking his head. “You and me.”
She peered at his expression. “I don’t understand.”
He nodded to a spot in front of them, and she followed his gaze. The East Chapel.
“Marry me, Kristy.”
She stopped dead. “Huh?”
He held her gaze with his own. “Did something ever seem completely right to you?”
“What?” Had he lost his mind? Yeah, they were having a fantastic weekend. And yeah, she couldn’t wait to get back to the suite and tear off his clothes. But this wasn’t 1952. They could make love without getting married.
“This feels right,” he repeated. “I know it’s right.”
She took a step toward him. “Jack. The fortune-teller was a fraud.”
“This has nothing to do with the fortune-teller.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
“You and me.”
“You and me are about to make love.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Over and over again if I have my way.”
Kristy glanced at her own watch. “Not unless you’re a whole lot faster at it than I’ve fantasized.”
He drew back. “You’ve fantasized?”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “Haven’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes went softer still. He blinked. “Marry me, Kristy.”
“No.”
A group of partiers rounded the corner, their drunken shouts and laughter intruding on the moment.
Jack whisked Kristy to a glass door, opening it to steer her onto a pillared patio overlooking the pools.
He closed the door behind them.
“Listen to me,” he said.
“Jack,” she sighed, fighting hard to hold her emotional ground.
Truth was, making love to Jack over and over again for the rest of her life sounded really good right now. And there was a deceptive intimacy to huddling in the sheltered darkness while the storm rumbled and flashed in the sky. Raindrops battered the waxy leaves of the potted tropical plants, while a film of steam rose from the pool decks and fountains, obscuring the pot lights, giving the entire garden an eerie glow.