Sinning in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 2)

“I’ll thank you more vehemently when we get back to your house,” she offers, her smile turning suggestive.

“Damn right you will,” I tell her.

This makes her grin, and her happiness makes all this bullshit feel worth it. She wants me as much as I want her, and there’s not a single fucking reason we shouldn’t have each other if that’s the case. Rafe can fuck right off with his bullshit.

When we pull into my driveway, I’m struck by a memory of the first time I stole her, how pretty she looked sleeping in the passenger’s seat, how unaware she was of the shit she was about to go through.

She took it in stride, though. I’m not sure anything can keep Laurel down, and I love that about her. As much as it pissed me off when she kissed Rafe at breakfast this morning, I couldn’t help cheering for her a little, too—he clearly wanted to intimidate and bully her a little bit, and she wasn’t having that shit.

She’s so fucking great. I squeeze her hand again before releasing it altogether so we can get out of the car.

Laurel pauses in front of the car and looks up at the house, sighing. “I missed this place.”

I smile faintly, heading for the front door. “Missed your cage, did you?”

“I did,” she says, following me. “Lock me up inside and don’t let me out again, I won’t complain. My sister will. She’ll definitely show up on your doorstep with something to say about it. But personally, I’ll be fine until fall semester starts.”

“I have to let you out then, huh?”

“I’ll probably want to go out to eat, too. I’ll need field trips. But I’m down to spend most of my time cuffed to your bed.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to buy you a ball gag,” I murmur, twisting the key in the last lock and opening the door.

“Oh, you love listening to all my nonsense,” she tells me, following me in the house.

Once we’re inside, I feel edgy. I know there’s no chance anyone is inside because I had the place locked down, but knowing what’s coming, I can’t help feeling a little tense. I put an arm out in front of Laurel, backing her up against the wall. I secure each lock on the door, then make my way up the stairs and take care of the alarm. Even though we’re inside, I lock up like we’re going to sleep.

I’m hoping I can have these last few peaceful hours, but I’m a little cagey as I stalk through the house with my gun at the ready, double checking every potential place to make sure we are, in fact, alone.

Laurel’s good mood ebbs as she realizes what I’m doing. She doesn’t say anything, but I see it in her face. Before we were just taking a ride while she had her milkshake and she could believe everything might be fine, but now I’m checking every crevice of my own house like there might be danger around the corner.

Then there’s the fact that after telling her she can’t have me over and over again, I just showed up at Rafe’s house and shoved my dick in her mouth last night. Clearly something has changed, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it can’t be all good news.

I check my bedroom last. Since she’s following me, we both end up there. Once I know the place is secure, I sigh and put my gun down on the bedside table.

Laurel attempts a smile, but I can still see the worry weighing her down. “No gun foreplay today, huh?”

“Nah, not today.”

She looks down, causing her hair to fall in her face. As she tucks it back behind her ear, she looks up at me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

I shake my head, advancing toward her. “Not just yet.”

Her gaze remains on me, but she backs up against the wall. I don’t mind; that’s right where I want her. Right against the wall where she stood last time she was in this bedroom, when I fucked it all up.

I can see the memory replaying in her mind as she stands with her back against the wall, looking up at me. The room is so silent I can hear her swallow. “I’m sorry I ever let you leave,” I tell her.

A mess of emotions shine in her eyes, but she doesn’t speak. That’s all right. She’s done plenty of talking; now it’s my turn.

Since I’m more effective at communicating things to her with my body than my words, I start there. I grab her hands and push them over her head. She looks perfect here—part masterpiece, part sacrifice. I’m not much for art, but I know awe-inspiring beauty when I see it, and it shines right out of her. Not just her face or her body, but her heart. She’s got a gorgeous heart, and she’s opened it up to me right from the start. I don’t know why, but I won’t question my luck.

As my gaze rakes over her, hers warms. The worry falls off her shoulders, the conflicted feelings drain out of her eyes. There’s nothing in her eyes right now I don’t want to see.

I run my fingers lightly down the backs of her arms, my blood heating as she sighs and closes her eyes, relishing the pleasure of my touch. Settling my hands around her waist, I lean into her, pressing close and bending my head to kiss her neck. She sighs again, lowering her arms so she can wrap them around my body and tug me closer.

When I finish kissing her neck, I kiss my way along her jaw, but stop just before I get to her mouth. Force of habit. She doesn’t even complain now, she just leans into my hand as I cup her face.

I watch her, trying to read her face like she tried to read her book this morning.