Hot Vegas Nights (The Trifecta 1)

“Ok, no more stupid ideas,” I say to myself as I twist the shower on. “You’re Clara Banning, top of her college class. The sensible one in any group she’s in. She’s back from her temporary mental vacation.” I give my reflection a confident nod as I pull off my ratty terry-cloth robe and step into the steamy shower.

The hot water is just what I need to keep me in my sane state of mind. I stay under the stream, letting it hit all the sore spots. My body sags against the marble loving the contrast of the heated water and the coolness of the wall. It reminds me of Ben. How he had all the women screaming at him, worshipping him as he soaked in all the attention he was receiving. But then he took care of me, making sure I drank water and took pain pills. I still have an odd memory of him cuddling against me while I drifted off to sleep. I shake my head, stopping the fantasy of having a man like Ben want me. I mean, he can have any woman he wants. I have to convince myself to get out of the shower. A disappointed groan slips out of me when I turn the knob and step out into the misty bathroom.

A sharp knock stops me in my tracks. With a quick twist, I tie my robe around my body.

Before I can change into something, the knock comes again, this time more impatient. Both hands go to the door as I peek out the peephole and spot the devil.

“I know you’re in there Clara. Answer the fucking door.” Maureen’s voice is too loud for how late it is, making it impossible not to answer the door. I don’t want to have to explain to my dad why he received another complaint about his stepdaughter and daughter.

Her arm comes up ready to pound on the door some more. I yank the door open hiding the smirk when she stumbles in her red-bottomed shoes.

“What do you want, Maureen? It’s late and some people have to work in the morning.”

She scoffs at the reminder of my responsibilities. We both know there’s no reason for me to work. My father’s more than happy to take care of me and allow me to live a life of luxury, but he also understands sitting around idly isn’t me. My stepsister does not have that understanding.

Can you fault a girl for wanting more? Because that’s what I want. More.

“That’s your fault for pretending to be poor.”

With a fortifying breath, I hold in my temper. “What do you want Maureen?” I only ask the question to get her to hurry up and leave me alone. I already know what she’s going to say. I cringe thinking I’m going to have to explain to her I was lying.

Maureen puts her hand on the door jam and leans into me. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes clings to her skin, causing my nose to jump as it’s assaulted by the strength of it. “I want you to admit you were lying.”

I rub my forehead in an attempt to move back from her. A headache forms, pushing against the base of my skull and I know it’s going to get worse the longer I’m with her.

“Clara,” a deep voice I never thought I’d hear again interrupts me from confessing.

“Ben, what are you doing here?” I ask, moving around my sister so I can see him.

“Who the hell are you?” Maureen turns on unsteady feet leaning against the wall for support.

Ben’s eyebrow quirks when Maureen doesn’t recognize him right away since he’s in dark jeans and a black t-shirt and not his tight stripper shorts.

“Wait, don’t I know you?” Maureen squints her eyes as she tries to focus on Ben.

“Clara, I want to talk to you.” Ben ignores Maureen and turns his body so his whole focus is on me.

And there’s nothing sexier in the world. The intensity in his pine-green eyes intoxicates me more than Maureen is right now. His muscles scream from underneath his shirt, wanting freedom from the tight confines of the material. I almost want to rip off his shirt to help them out.

What is wrong with me? I remember him and the brunette from earlier tonight, and replace my lust with normalcy.

“There’s nothing to talk about Ben.” I need Maureen to leave so I can just tell him that going to the club was a big mistake on my part.

And I definitely won’t mention the favor.

Ben steps closer and I inhale his musky scent. It smells expensive, sexy, and unattainable. “You’re wrong there’s a lot to talk about. What you saw tonight wasn’t what it looked like.”

“It doesn’t matter what it looked like.” And it really doesn’t. Ben’s free to do him. No judgies.