This definitely wasn’t the old Olivia in action. No matter how drunk she could get, never in a million years would that star debutante from Pasadena maul a complete stranger in the middle of a busy public sidewalk on the Las Vegas Strip. Never would she want him to pull her skirt up and press himself against her throbbing center. Never would she reach down to stroke him through his pants. But that’s exactly what happened.
As if reading her mind, he bunched her skirt until her legs could move freely. Sighing, she lifted a thigh and hooked her knee around his hips. He pushed close and, ahhhh, bliss. Her underwear rubbed against his fly.
With their mouths fused, she fought to get closer and he seemed just as desperate to press against her. For once in her life, Olivia didn’t care about anything except feeling a rushing orgasm. Crazy and totally insane as that was, she wanted this man inside her. Now. She was on the point of begging.
Hot hands returned to her ass. With her skirt gathered around her waist, she only had her underwear and fishnet obstructing his path. But since her underwear was a skimpy thong, he pretty much cupped bare skin. Seemingly surprised by this, he paused and pulled his mouth back only far enough to look into her eyes.
"Damn," he said and dipped his head for another kiss.
Olivia went under again. It felt like she was in the ocean. With his mouth on hers, she floated underwater where the world around her remained muted and pleasant. All she knew was his lips. But when he came up for air, it was like returning to the surface, and she could suddenly see and hear the traffic and passing conversations again. Until he dipped his head and she was, yes, once again sucked into the sensation of dangling. Absolutely soaring.
She didn’t even focus on the harsh voice saying, "Hey! You two. Hey, cut that out."
But she did notice when her fiancé was jerked away from her. Olivia yelped in surprise as she slid down the wall until her heels hit the sidewalk and she wobbled for footing. Her companion spun around to glare at the individual who’d yanked him away from her. But when he saw the uniformed police officer glaring back, he stumbled in reverse and bumped into her, pinning her momentarily to the wall.
Her eyes flared, and she quickly smoothed down her skirt.
"I told you two to stop," the officer lectured, scowling from her groom to her and back to her groom again.
Her intended winced, holding up both hands as if surrendering. "Sorry, ossif...officer," he gushed. "I was, well, I wasn’t paying attention to much of anything, ’cept her."
He glanced over his shoulder, and when their gazes met, he grinned engagingly, making Olivia swallow down a start of longing. There was just something so incredibly sweet and cuddly, yet wholly erotic, about this man she was going to marry.
She blinked, wondering how he could stand in such a submissive position with his hands in the air and smile at her like he didn’t have a care in the world.
"That’s obvious," the officer muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Now, how much have you had to drink tonight, buddy?"
Olivia’s groom turned to direct his glazy grin toward the cop. "A lot," he admitted openly and cheerfully. Then he hiccupped to prove it. "That’s why I’m walking everywhere, you see. No drinking and driving for me." He paused. "Say, that’s a nice uniform, officer. You must get lotsa chicks."
Olivia closed her eyes and let out a groan of mortification. Why in the world was he sucking up to the cranky cop? He was only going land them both in jail.
When she finally opened her eyes, she found the officer scrutinizing her. She swallowed.
"Ma’am," he said stonily. Then his gaze roved disapprovingly down her outfit. "Are you aware this area has a high concentration of prostitution?"
Olivia whimpered and licked her suddenly dried lips. "I...does it?"
"Now, wait a sec," her fiancé butted in, sounding insulted. He stepped partially in front of her and, she had to admit, his protective gesture felt nice. "She’s not a hooker, damn it. That’s my fiancée you’re talking to, pal. We’re gettin’ married tonight. Besides, I happen to know prosistush—prostitution is legal in Navada, cause this buddy of mine once—"
"Sir," the officer broke in, not looking at all impressed by the drunk’s legal knowledge. "Prostitution may be legal in the state, but it’s not in Clark County or the city limits of Las Vegas."
Dropping his finger to scratch his head and look suitably confused, Green Eyes frowned. "Really? Well, jus’ the same. She’s no hooker. She’s my fiancée. An’ we’re getting married tonight."