Sinning in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 2)

There’s something wrong with my brain.

I didn’t want Rafe to fuck me when he was being a heartless asshole.

This train is going off-track, fast. Shaking it off, I turn my attention back to Rafe before I start visualizing Sin walking over to the bed to tie me up, that perfect ass on display as he dropped his clothes in the laundry basket. The most mundane shit, and still I miss it.

“Distract me,” I tell Rafe.

Cocking an eyebrow at me, he says, “I’m the one who gives the orders around here, kitten.”

“Please?” I add, with pointed sweetness.

A smile claims his lips and he steps away from the bathroom door, opening it up and stepping back outside. I don’t know why he dragged me into the bathroom to begin with, but before I can ask, he says, “Much better.”

He takes my hand and leads me back into the bedroom, but he’s not doing the job I need him to do. I understand why he isn’t—he’s not on solid ground with me right now. Due to his own fuck-ups, he lost all the ground he had, and now he has less than he had the moment he met me.

The problem is, Sin is still in my head, and with Rafe still playing catch-up, Mia’s offer looks much better to me than anything that brings me back to Vegas. I’m not completely closed-off to giving Rafe a shot, but I’ve never been as close to him as I got to Sin, and I’m honestly terrified of how I’ll feel the first time Sin walks through the door. They work closely, so I know it will happen. Hell, they’re friends. I won’t just see Sin once in a great while, I’ll see him often. How do I do that? How do I look at him like a normal person now, like a friend of my boyfriend, if things actually progress with Rafe? Will the impulse still be there to drop to my knees and worship his body? I know it won’t come up, but will I still want to? That will be torture.

I’ve never had to be friends with an ex before, so I’m damn sure not primed for whatever this is. Hell, even adoring Sin, Rafe could stir up some of my feelings. How do you look at someone you’ve been so intimate with and act like they’re nothing to you?

“Laurel.”

The sharpness of Rafe’s tone and his serious expression lead me to believe he spoke to me, and I must have missed it. “Sorry. What?”

“What would you like to play?”

Play? I don’t think I agreed to playing. I know what kind of play he likes—it involves both of us naked and doing things my heart isn’t ready for. Purposely obtuse, I brighten. “Cards?”

His tone completely dead, Rafe repeats, “Cards.”

I nod my head, even though I don’t technically know how to play poker. It seems like a game he would be into. “Sure. Let’s play poker. I don’t have much money, so you’ll have to front me some.”

Faintly smirking, he tells me, “I don’t think you can afford my interest rates.”

“Come on,” I say, trying to entice him. “You’re Mr. Vegas. You must like poker, right?”

“The fact that you want to play two-person poker makes me think you’re not much good at it. Strip poker? You’re not wearing much. That won’t take long.”

I lose a little enthusiasm. “Strip poker? I don’t know how to play that.”

“Easy,” he says, smoothly. “You lose a hand, you remove an article of clothing. Then you don’t have to borrow money from the mob—you have all the currency required to play.”

“I’m only wearing a dress, panties, and a bra. I don’t even have socks.”

“Damn,” he says dryly.

Trying to lure him away from the end game of getting me naked, I tease him. “I think you’re just afraid you’ll lose if we play it straight. The big, bad, Vegas boss beaten by a 19-year-old science nerd.”

His hands shoot out, grasping my wrist, and he pulls me onto his lap faster than I can blink. My heart skitters, and Rafe situates my thighs around his hips so I’m straddling him. “I feel I should warn you, I don’t do well with brats, kitten. You know what brats get? Brats get punished, and you’ve already racked up quite a debt these past few days.”

It’s harder to keep a safe distance when I’m straddling his lap, inches from his handsome face. “I have a debt? I didn’t borrow anything.”

His eyes follow the curve of my shoulder and move along my breasts—then his finger follows the same trail. His light caress is usually relaxing, but it feels a touch foreboding right now. “You didn’t borrow anything, strictly speaking, but you gave something away. Something that was supposed to belong to me.” One hand settles on my hip and the other moves around the back of me to grasp my ass. “I know you’re still sad right now, so I’ll be nice. I won’t make you pay me back just yet.”

My heart pounds harder as he leans forward, brushing his lips tenderly across my collar bone.

“But remember, I have steep interest rates, kitten, so you’ll want to start working off your debt soon. Wouldn’t want you getting in over your head.”

That shouldn’t be sexy. Nothing should stir, knowing that while he’s only playing with me, he probably means all these things when he says them to other people. The man whose lap I’m in probably ruins lives on the regular—issues hits and takes them altogether, if people get out of line. Why does that turn me on?