Double Down (10 page)

“More pilots.”

“Wow.” She wouldn’t have pictured the wiry young man or the vaguely ditzy woman as pilots. Then again, she hadn’t even guessed it of Ryan, no matter how right that knowledge seemed now. “Do you have call signs, like in
Top Gun
?”

He sighed.

“What?”

“Everyone always mentions
Top Gun
,” he said. “Navy schmoes.”

Cass giggled.

“My call sign’s Fang.”

“Fang? That’s fairly badass, Major Haverty.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “It wasn’t when I started. It stands for ‘Fuck…another new guy’.”

“Priceless.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell my students. ‘Fang’ is wonderful for intimidation.”

“You’re an instructor?”

“That’s right.” He sounded sleepy now but proud at the same time. Obviously, some years ago, he’d wanted to be a pilot and he’d gone for it. That much determination was humbling. “I’m stationed at Nellis with the 64
^th
Aggressor Squadron.”

“Again with the badass.”

“Damn straight. I fly like the bad guys to teach other pilots how not to die. Love it.”

A few seconds later, he was snoring softly. The possessive way he’d been holding her began to ease. Cass couldn’t sleep, not for a long time. She watched the lights of the Strip, heard drunken voices out in the hallway, and felt the rhythmic beat of Ryan’s heart beneath her cheek.

Events from the evening became a repeating movie in her mind—all they’d said and done and revealed. Ryan Haverty was too good to be true. But for the moment, on that amazing night, he was hers.

Chapter Eleven

Ryan quietly eased onto the bed then brushed the hair off Cassandra’s face. He’d closed the curtains a couple hours earlier so she could sleep longer, but a single sneaking finger of sunlight lay across her cheek. She’d curled into a half-moon with one hand under the pillow. She looked like some sort of woodland fairy.

He glanced at the costume she’d dropped to the floor. Maybe not a fairy. A nymph. That seemed more like her. Wicked but a lot fun-loving.

He traced the delicate hollow of her temple where the skin was tissue thin.

She shifted and blinked up at him. A sleepy smile curved her lips. “Good morning, Major Haverty.”

He wasn’t surprised she was the type to wake up cheery. “It’s the afternoon, Miss Whitman.”

“Is it really?” She stretched her arms up over her head. The sheet slipped a few inches, but unfortunately not enough to drop below her nipples. After scrubbing at her eyes, she twisted to look at the glowing display of the alarm clock. “Wow, you’re right. How long have you been up?”

“A couple hours.”

He’d always been an early riser, and then his Air Force training had finished him off. He could rarely get more than six hours of sleep anymore.

This time he’d been able to indulge in watching her sleep. Not that he’d ever tell her, but when she was really racked out, she made a noise that wasn’t quite a snore and wasn’t quite a snort. A snuffle, he’d call it. Probably a sign he was already pretty far gone that he’d found it sort of cute. Adorable in a geeky way.

She rubbed the base of her palms over her eyes again and her jaw cracked on a yawn. “What is that I smell?”

“Coffee and pastries. I also picked up a toiletry kit in one of the gift shops. It’s in the bathroom.”

His first stop, though, had been a clothing store. That had been quite the walk of shame, entering in his bedraggled dress uniform shirt and slacks, then leaving in a pair of cargo shorts and T-shirt. Once again he was lucky to have lost his mind in Vegas. No one gave him a second look.

He’d also had reception extend their stay for another day, switching the room to his credit card. The thought of her paying for their good time rubbed him very, very wrong. Now, even if they didn’t stay over, he had guaranteed that she could sleep as long as she needed. Not to mention that he didn’t want to be rushed out by housekeeping at an inopportune moment.

She grinned at him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He’d been aware that something would change by morning. The shiny would have worn off, or they wouldn’t get along as well in the daylight. Or it would finally dawn on her exactly how broken he was. They’d been high on the rush of excitement and adventure, but it seemed like they were still on the same page. That realization unfurled some of the tension in his limbs.

“I love a smart man,” she said. “They’re so rare that they should be appreciated as the fine works of art they are.”

She slipped out of the bed and stretched. Her hands rose to scratch through her hair, which lifted her breasts. The dim light clung to her and outlined every beautiful curve—from the soft line of her stomach, down to the small fluff of strawberry-blonde curls.

Ryan’s chest clenched on a silent
guh
. He leaned back onto his palms, intent on enjoying the view. She was beautiful. That was for damned sure.

She tossed a small smirk over her shoulder as she walked away, apparently completely aware of the power she had over him.

The spell dissipated with the click of the bathroom door. He managed to make it to his feet and reach the small table in the other room where he’d dropped their breakfast. The coffee was nearly scalding, but he sucked it down anyway. He needed something to get his mind out of the gutter.

She might not be ready to go again. Last night they’d fucked twice—but that didn’t feel right either. It hadn’t
quite
been making love, but it had been something more than a mindless fuck. Special. A gift.

The shower hissed on. He wiped a hand over his face as if that could wipe out the image of her soaking wet standing under the showerhead as water poured over her curves and dips.

The door cracked open. “Hey,” she called. “You getting in here with me?”

Oh, hell yeah. He slammed down his coffee and was off like a shot, stripping his T-shirt as he went. His shoes toed off somewhere at the halfway mark. He kicked off his shorts at the threshold to the marble bathroom, right after he snagged another condom from his pocket.

She held her arms out to him. Soaking wet, she was everything he’d imagined. Just as sexy as she’d been in the outfits. Even hotter with an inviting smile on her face.

He was kissing her before he’d even stepped beneath the spray, his fingers delving into the wet mass of her hair. With her arms around his shoulders and one leg hitched over his hip, she wrapped around him like some sort of sex monkey. He loved her enthusiasm. He filled his hands with her ass and lifted her up against the wall.

They crashed and slid together, then apart. Ryan wedged her into the corner to hold her in position for his thrusts. She curled up into every push. When her toes slipped off their perch on the soap dish, she giggled.

The sex was no less powerful for being filled with smiles and laughs. Another nice reassurance. He’d worried their night of debauchery and costumes would make him incapable of finding her sexy for just being Cassandra. But the orgasm that weakened his bones and turned his knees to Jell-O, right after she moaned in his ear that she was coming, was equally intense.

They toweled off together amid plenty more laughter and teasing. She found the only ticklish spot on his body, right at the top of his ribs, then exploited it mercilessly. He chased her out of the bathroom with a snap of his towel to her ass.

She fell back into the tumbled mess of bedding. “Peace,” she cried. “Treaty. Whatever you military guys call it.”

He laughed one more time as he scrubbed the towel over his damp hair. “Baby, you can say anything you want as long as you’re naked in my bed.”

She twisted around until she was on her stomach and propped her head on her fists. The long line of her back curving into the gentle swell of her ass was a thing of beauty. “Is that all it takes? Then fetch me my coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped a full salute.

“Ooh,” she breathed, “now you’re just playing dirty.”

“I was under the impression that’s what you liked.”

He ducked into the other room to grab the coffee and pastries, then hurried back. She’d shifted to the head of the bed. To Ryan’s deepest regret, she’d drawn the sheet up over her perfect body and was speaking to someone on her cell phone. After reassuring whoever it was that she had not, in fact, been murdered by a sex pervert, she hung up with a smile.

“There,” she said. “Gilly’s happy. We can proceed with our day.”

He handed her one of the cups and plunked the white bag of pastries on the comforter. Because Cassandra had covered up, he grabbed his shorts and pulled them on.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a selection. There’s creamer and sugar in there too.”

“Thanks.”

“Who’s Gilly?”

“My friend. The dark-haired woman last night at Blakely’s, the one who said she’d close for me.” She snagged two small cups of cream and three packs of sugar to doctor her drink. When she dug further in the sack, her blue eyes lit up. Her hand reemerged with a sugar-dusted croissant. “Oh, my. You’ve made me very happy.”

Ryan grinned. He shifted onto the bed and reached into the bag. He pulled out the first thing his fingers touched, a glazed donut. “That’s good since I’ve decided to make it my goal for the day.”

“Do you always achieve your goals, Major Haverty?” Something flickered across her face and darkened her eyes.

A tiny sugar crystal clung to her top lip. He couldn’t resist leaning forward to kiss it away. “Always. Don’t you?”

She shrugged. “Most of the time, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

She took another bite of her croissant, as if to delay answering, but he waited patiently. “I want to be the director of an art gallery. For now I’m interning. It’ll get me there. Eventually.”

“What’s holding you back?” To be truthful, he couldn’t understand someone who didn’t go full force after their dreams. It had taken him long enough to figure out what he wanted and to find the opportunity to pursue that better future. He hadn’t had time to screw around after that.

“It’s not that easy. There’s politics in galleries. You have to prove you have that special eye for art.” She shrugged again then plastered on a smile. “But I’m not at the gallery today.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, consciously letting the subject drop. “So what do you want to do? We’re on the Strip. We’ve got the room ’til tomorrow.”

“We do?”

He nodded. “Yep. I took care of it. So the itinerary is all yours.”

“An itinerary.” She took a deep sip of her coffee. “That sounds so formal.”

“It kind of does, doesn’t it?”

He put the bag of pastries on the nightstand, followed by Cassandra’s coffee cup. Her wrists, so slender, were easily wrapped in his hands. Enjoying the buttery taste on her lips, he kissed her until she was breathless.

Finally he needed to draw back, or they’d never make it out of bed. “So let’s call it a vacation. Let’s play tourist.”

“Tourists are so boring. If you grow up here, you get tired of their antics.”

“What do you have in mind?”

She angled her lips over his and took one more kiss. “Something darker. What if we’d snuck away? We’re two people hiding from the world. Like we were having an affair or something.”

“Definitely darker.” The skin of her throat was so soft. He brushed another kiss in the hollow below her collarbone.

“Mmm.” She bent her head to give him more access. “We’re wicked cheaters.”

He drew his head back abruptly. “I wouldn’t, you know.”

“What?”

“Have an affair. Ever.”

It was of vital importance that she understand that. He wasn’t sure why since they were just having fun. He’d known from a very early age that if he were ever lucky enough to find someone to build a future with, he’d do everything in his power not to fuck it up. Keeping his dick appropriately in his pants seemed the easiest part of that puzzle. Resisting the temptation to beg her to dress up in sexy scraps of lace would be much harder.

One of the first things he’d learned about her was that her ex cheated. He didn’t want to be anything like that toady schmuck.

Cassandra curved her palm around the back of his neck. Her gaze flickered over him for a second before her smile returned. “Of course you wouldn’t. We’re just playing here. Right?”

“Right.” He spread his hand over the curve of her waist, nestling his thumb against the bottom of her ribs. “So a getaway. Mini vacation with anything in the city. What would you do?”

Her lashes dipped as she dropped her gaze. “Anything?”

“Anything that’s in my power to arrange.”

The pretty pink that swept over her round cheeks was damned cute. “There’s a showing of Impressionists at the Bellagio. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to get over there. If you think you’ll be bored, though, we can go somewhere else.”

He stole another kiss. “Baby, as long as I’m with you, I don’t think anything could bore me.”

Chapter Twelve

The heat wasn’t so bad that afternoon as they crossed Las Vegas Boulevard. A fine mist from Bellagio’s tremendous fountains had Cass in mind of the shower they’d shared. She smiled to herself and snuggled against Ryan’s body as they walked.

April in Vegas meant spring-break vacations. The Strip was thick with a trillion tourists. The inconvenience of so many self-centered pleasure seekers didn’t bother her that afternoon. She was one too. Intentionally, she looked at the chaotic excess with new eyes. What if she were seeing all this glitz and adult fantasy for the first time? Her imagination wasn’t quite that good. At least the effort made squeezing through a tour group of two dozen retirement community members easier to endure.

When they stood in line at the Bellagio Gallery of Fine Art, stuck like complacent cattle between the velvet ropes, Cass took Ryan’s hand and kissed the back of it.

“What was that for?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe just thankful the spell hasn’t worn off yet.”

“I was thinking the same thing this morning.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He looked fantastic in his white cotton T-shirt. The soft cloth clung to his broad back, the solid caps of his shoulders, the flat ridges of his stomach. He probably wouldn’t like her to point it out, but his cargo shorts did fantastic things for his ass. Dark hair dusted his calves. The loafers he wore were brand new, reminding her that this escape was costing him a fortune.