Vegas Miracle (6 page)

"Christ," Ryan draped himself over Henri’s dark, sweat slicked back, licking and tasting the salty essence. Henri stood, pulling Ryan’s arms around him, their bodies still joined. Ryan’s pressed his face to the other man’s hair, taking deep breaths of all that was Henri.

A terrifying sensation enveloped him when he remembered Henri’s words. 
"This means nothing,"
but Ryan knew it had to him. He loved his wife with every fiber of his being, but now he also knew he very possibly loved this man.  And he was damned to the depths of hell if he knew what to do about it.

****

Henri sat and watched Ryan sleep.  The sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, picking up the highlights in the other man’s hair, the light blond fuzz that covered his sprawled legs, taking up most of the room in his bed.  His heart clenched.  What had he done?

Guilty of taking on the man’s resistance as a challenge at first, having sensed Ryan was struck by a strange attraction to him, Henri convinced himself it was just a one night stand.  The man was an Adonis, a pure alpha male of the American variety, delicious clothed and even more so nude, as he was now, a white sheet wrapped around his waist covering a growing erection that made Henri’s own cock harden instantly.

Merde
.

Henri leapt from the bed and busied himself in the kitchen, the familiarity of the activity soothing his fevered brain.  If anyone asked him, he would have said he already loved Ryan Sullivan. Loved him the moment he saw him.  But the strange part was, he was half in love with Grace as well, having read about her for weeks and now, knowing so much more about her from her husband.  Henri ran a hand over his eyes.  This had the potential to be an amazing journey or a truly horrible mistake.  Henri just wasn’t sure which one.

When Ryan wrapped strong arms around him from behind, pressing his hard cock against Henri’s bare back, Henri sighed, turned and wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck.

"Means nothing, eh?" Ryan’s voice was deep, gravelly, and it sent a chill down Henri’s spine.

"Oh, let’s try again.  Then I’ll let you know." He sighed then covered Ryan’s lips with his.

Chapter Six

One Year Later

Grace sat in the back of the limo, rumpled, hot and exhausted.  Between a flight delay from Detroit to Las Vegas and the news that her husband was going to be "at least a day" meeting her, she was well and truly pissed.  Sighing deeply and leaning back into the plush leather, Grace let the cool hiss of air-conditioning calm her.  A conveniently situated bottle of beer tempted her from the iced container at her knees so she grabbed it, noting it was her favorite IPA before consuming nearly half of it in one gulp.  The malty hopped concoction soothed her throat and settled her nerves. 

It was a short ride from the Vegas airport to the Aria, so Grace skipped her usual smart phone email surfing in favor of just staring out of the window at the shimmering heat of the desert.  Sipping at her beer, she tried to relax but images from the previous month of touring and trying to avoid communication with Ryan wouldn’t allow it. 

She shut her eyes against the glare outside the window as the car turned the corner pointing them towards The Strip.  Grace loved Vegas and Ryan knew it.  Something about its over-the-top, anything-goes vibe got to her, made her want to skinny dip, gamble and dance in clubs with strangers, actions completely outside the realm of her basic reality.  Ryan loved watching her cut loose and she was thankful he arranged this trip on the heels of her latest round of interviews and book signings.   But the fact he’d spent the last several weeks avoiding her hadn't escaped her notice.

She smiled to herself, picturing them the last time they’d stayed here.  As a sought-after hotel and resort consultant, Ryan was able to command seats at the best restaurants and front row tickets to sold out shows.   The parties they attended were full of A-list celebrities, many of the females getting one look at her six-foot-six Nordic god of a husband before casting a "what the hell" glance her direction.  And the man knew how to work a room.  But right now, settling for some serious one-on-one time with him was her goal, something they’d been missing for a while which was making her suspicious and angry.

"Ma’am," the voice over the intercom made her jump and spill beer in her lap.

"Shit!  What?"  Grace grabbed some tissues to sop up the amber liquid slowly staining her wrinkled linen pants.

"Mister Sullivan told me to tell y," the voice hesitated.

"Why can’t Mister Sullivan tell me himself?"

"Well, he, um, told me this morning before you arrived.  That you should open the present in the center console right before we got to the Aria."

Grace rolled her eyes.  For Christ’s sake, Ryan and his presents.  While she wasn’t complaining about getting expensive gifts, what she really wanted was his undivided attention for an entire weekend, a weekend devoted solely to reconnecting before it was too late.  Pulling the purple ribbon off the simple white tissue papered package, Grace gasped when a black silk rope fell into her lap along with a note in Ryan’s terrible handwriting:

Remember?  I do.  I'll see you soon, promise.  These rookies in Denver are killing me.  I’m sorry I’m gonna be late to our weekend.  I’ll make it up to you, you know I will.

Love, R

Grace felt herself blush. 

Remember?  How could she forget?  As a writer of ever-sexier fiction, she'd become an avid consumer of erotica and the sub genre of "lifestyle." Dominance and submissive mixed with a little bondage was going to play a part in her next series of novels.  Since the cable rights had been sold to her last series, Grace could afford to take her time and research her subjects.  It wasn't long before Ryan caught wind of some of the reading material she’d found given highly popular books and general studies on the psychology of "Doms and subs" now graced her nightstand.

"Interesting," he’d said, fingering the novels featuring naked male torsos, blindfolds and whips.

Grace glared at him.

"Sorry, I know it’s a little lowbrow for you."

He laid the book back on her lap and leaned over to kiss her, mollifying her temper.  "I wouldn’t say that.  I’m just wondering if you'd like to experience a little of this for real."

Grace colored bright red as her breathing ramped up.  Reading the fiction made her flat out horny.  She'd been about to jump up on his lap and demand some service, which she knew he'd happily oblige.  But this?

"I don’t think so," she snapped.  "No one dominates me."

Ryan chuckled, pulling her up from the leather sofa and into his arms.  Oh, his lips and tongue, they had gotten him out of plenty of jams with her, she knew.  She really ought to read some more. But he’d carried her into the bedroom and used those very appendages to bring her to a raging, screaming orgasm and she’d forgotten why she’d been upset in the first place.

Grace snapped back to reality as the car made its way through late afternoon Vegas traffic.  The chill she’d gotten at the memory of her handsome husband’s talented lips was slowly but surely turning to anger at his absence.  It was the story of her life.  When he was with her physically it was rare but even then it was like he wasn’t "there" emotionally anymore.  It frightened her.  The memories crashed in, tossing her under waves of lust and frustration.

****

Four weeks earlier

The Saturday morning after their wild night post Grace's research reading, Ryan sent her a text.

“Picking you up at eight.  Stuck in meetings until then.”

She went back to reading some of the drier psychology stuff and sighed, answering him back.

"Why? I’m too tired to go out.  Can’t we just stay home?"

"No.  Party.  Required.  Wear the new Lauren."

He’d bought her a new dress last week, one that was forcing her back into the gym in order to do it justice.

 “Fine.” She shut the damn thing off, determined to finish her research. 

By seven, she dashed into the shower, pulled her unruly brown hair up into a semi-formal chignon, patted on her usual minimal makeup and squeezed into the sexy silk dress.  Turning around in front of the huge mirror in her bedroom, she sucked in the last bit of gut she couldn’t seem to lose then teetered down the spiral staircase to the front door.  Ryan was obsessively punctual and got pissy if she kept him waiting.

Once ensconced in his low-slung silver Cadillac, Grace tried to relax and not think about the fact she’d rather be reading, researching and formulating plot outlines for her new series.  Once she wrapped her head around her characters, her fingers itched with need to bring them to life.   She jumped when Ryan put a hand on her thigh.

"Relax."

 She took a sip of the water she’d grabbed before leaving the house and stared straight ahead.

"I know you didn’t want to come out tonight but I think you’ll enjoy it."

"Whatever," she snapped, knowing he didn’t deserve it but unwilling to call it back.

When they pulled up to a huge mansion, Grace glanced at him, a puzzled expression clouding her face.

 "Where are we?"

"A friend’s house.  It’s a private party."

The valet opened her door and helped her out before Ryan tucked her arm into his and patted her hand.

"Ready?"

"Sure," she said, now more curious than angry.

Ryan leaned over to kiss her lips, lingering a tad longer than Grace thought was necessary in public and she pulled back.

"What the hell is this, Ryan?"

He grinned, his adorable, lop-sided grin and merely guided her into the cavernous foyer.  Music thrummed through the place, bouncing off marble and granite surfaces making Grace’s heart pound.  A model-perfect woman clad in a diaphanous blue gown that left nothing to the imagination wafted by and took their wraps and Grace’s small handbag.  She started to protest, not willing to let her smartphone go, but Ryan plucked it from her shoulder and handed it to the nearly naked woman without a word before leading her into a large room dominated by a bar made of ice blocks staffed by shirtless men who could easily pass for some of the guys on the book covers she’d been reading.

Grace felt her heart flutter at the sight of the handsome men who were all staring at her and she sucked in her gut again, self-conscious beyond all imagining.  Ryan leaned in to her ear again, brushing it with his breath.

"I’ll get us a drink."

 She let go of his arm reluctantly.  The atmosphere was charged with something she couldn’t place.  The lighting was subtle, just enough to see the bar and the vague outlines of the room.  There seemed to be alcoves around, shrouded in the same sort of flimsy material that "covered" the girl at the door.  A few couples stood in the open, drinking and laughing or staring around the room much like she was.  Grace took a deep breath and accepted the icy martini offered to her.

"What is this place?" she leaned into her husband’s chest, relieved by his return.

"I told you, a private party." He glanced around and nodded at someone across the room.  This was more like it.  Grace was used to him working rooms at parties so she relaxed and drank her cocktail a little too fast, handing the empty glass to one of the passing, nearly naked men holding a tray.

She flinched when a cool hand touched her bare arm.  Skin prickling, she took in the sight of a drop-dead beautiful woman who was eyeing her as if she were a chocolate covered morsel.  Grace glanced up a Ryan.  She was used to beautiful women ogling and flat-out propositioning her husband.  Grace was no slouch herself, five foot six, fluctuating between a size six and eight depending on how motivated she was to exercise, long dark blonde hair and deep green eyes.  But Ryan was a specimen by anyone’s standards.

His deep blue eyes were framed in a nearly perfect face with a lean nose and strong jaw almost always covered in dark stubble.  His dark blond hair was thick and smooth as silk under her hands.  The slight obsession with exercise he nurtured yielded a rock hard body she’d relished from their inauspicious yet steamy, hot beginnings.  But it was his company, his quick if somewhat dry wit, ability to talk to a wall and make it respond, and utter dedication to her pleasure, she treasured.

He'd ripped out her soul with his words, "we need a break" just four years ago after a year of expensive travel, gifts and parties so she’d done her usual drastic overreacting and bolted straight in to the arms of Kyle, her patient, young editor who’d nurtured a crush on her from their beginning.   Granted, she’d been beyond pissed at Ryan's need to take control of her financial life.  Knowing it would be the easiest thing, to just let him take over, pay off her debts and never consider it again, nearly froze her with terror.  She couldn’t let herself lose that much control.  What if it didn’t work out?  How would she pay him back?

 About that same time her agent broke the news that her series, "In the Limelight" was being purchased by a premium cable channel.  The extreme relief of being able to support herself through her own writing, which meant she didn't need to depend on Ryan, was just washing over when the door of her hotel room reverberated with pounding. 

She’d glanced at Kyle who’d rolled over and thrown an arm over his face at the noise.  Knowing it was Ryan before she even got there, Grace had sensed his presence through the door, and she knew she'd say "yes" to whatever he proposed.   Little did she know a platinum and emerald ring he’d had designed to match her eyes was waiting on the other side.  Glancing down at it now, with her matching wedding band of simple platinum, she closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her composure.