Staying in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 1)

“No. There’s nothing to ‘huh,’” Rafe replies.

Sin shrugs. “You can’t reject my ‘huh.’ That’s mine.”

Rafe is annoyed. I haven’t seen him annoyed before, but he is right now. Turning back to the blondes, he says with remarkably recovered lightness, “Well, I guess I better get back to my date while I still can.”

They eye Sin warily, then flash tepid smiles at Rafe before wandering off.

“What the fuck was that?” Rafe mutters, sliding another annoyed look at Sin.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sin uncaps his water and says, “Hey, you’re single and flirting with other girls in front of her, so she’s clearly up for grabs—what’s the problem?”

“I was not flirting with them. I was talking to them. That doesn’t give you cause to get handsy with my date.”

“Right,” Sin drawls, rolling his eyes. “Fuck off, Rafe.”

“You fuck off,” Rafe shoots back. “You’re not even nice to her.”

“I was pretty nice to her just then.”

Shaking his head, Rafe says, “I don’t know why you’re trying to piss me off, but you can stop anytime.”

Sin stabs a stalk of broccoli, looking at Rafe before he takes a bite. “Hey, if I have to be nice to her, so do you.”

I have no idea what’s going on, so I study the condensation on the outside of my water glass like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.

Rafe slides his arm around me for the first time since we got to this restaurant, a move that feels distinctly possessive now. Sin cracks a little smile, but doesn’t say anything more.

8

Laurel

Since Sin gave us a

ride to the restaurant, he also has to give us a ride back to Rafe’s house. Neither man says much in the car, so I’m a little surprised when we pull into Rafe’s and Sin gets out like he’s coming in the house.

By all appearances, so is Rafe. “You coming in?” he asks.

“Yep. Might as well have a night cap before I head home.”

“All right,” Rafe says easily enough. “Let’s make it quick. I owe Laurel a few orgasms.”

My face flushes at his directness, but it’s not like they don’t know why I’m here.

Er, wait. Actually, they don’t. I keep forgetting why I am here, and now as I remember, my stomach sinks again.

It knots up more when Rafe wordlessly pours Sin a drink at his silver drink cart, then pours himself one, and finally brings one over to me.

Now that we aren’t at a restaurant, I don’t have even the flimsy excuse of being underage. Sin sinks into the couch cushion beside me, but I remain perched on the edge, staring at the glass with trepidation.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Rafe nods, but his intense golden eyes remain on me. “Aren’t you going to have a drink?”

“In a minute,” I reply, glancing up at him. “Am I on a time limit?”

“Perhaps,” he says, lazily.

Since he’s watching me, I feel the need to buy time. “You know, I didn’t have my first drink until a year ago at a graduation party. I consumed two malt beverages and somehow ended up so drunk, I was lying face-down on the pavement when Carly came to pick me up.”