KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(81)

“Don’t cry, Mom,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her.

“Oh, Claire, for so long you’ve been holed up in hiding—maybe not literally, but emotionally. You’ve kept everyone at a distance. But Landon seems to have cracked your heart wide open.”

I squeeze her tight, so grateful to have her support.

“So what happens next?” Mom asks, sitting back into her seat on the sofa next to Tess

“A double wedding, of course,” Tess says, grinning.

“Don’t, Tess. We aren’t even engaged. And after all the drama with Robert Mackle ... I bet Landon’s going to need to really think through what a relationship with me looks like.”

“You’re so dense,” Tess says. “Did you see the way he looked at you when he walked in here?”

I did. His eyes met mine, above Sophia’s head, and I never wanted to look way.

In my heart, I really don’t think he wanted to either.

A bit later, Landon returns to the room with his parents, and everyone seems to look around not knowing what to do. It’s awkward, because what I really want is to pull Landon in my arms, kiss him, never let him go.

But everyone is watching us.

“Claire, would you help me with my bags?” he asks me, from across the room.

Brandon steps in and speaks before I can answer. “No need, Miss. I already had them brought upstairs.”

“Right.” Landon smiles tightly. “Well, then, perhaps we could get some drinks for everyone from the kitchen?”

The maid, Clarice, appears in the room, holding two bottles of wine. “Pinot, anyone?” she asks, unaware.

“Well.” Landon frowns. “Claire, would you come with me to see the ... err ... stables?”

“What is this, a story circa 1800?” Fiona asks, rolling her eyes. “Just take her. We all know what you’re planning on doing. And be back in an hour for lunch.”

“What are you doing, Landon?” Sophia asks.

I see the heat rise to his cheeks. I need to save him from himself.

“Sweet pea, stay here with Gram and your new friends,” I tell her. “I’m going to talk to my best friend, okay?”

Sophia gives me a kiss, and then I stand, smiling at the situation, and follow Landon out of the room.



When he pulls me out of the house I’m surprised. I honestly thought we were just headed upstairs, so we could finish what we started there before he was summoned to his parents’ room.

What I really want to do is thank him for being my knight in shining armor this week. For saving me from that awful marriage. For relieving me of my worst fears. For never judging, always accepting. For staying, when it would have been so easy to walk away.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my hand in his, as he drags me down the front steps.

“To the stables. That’s what I said, right?”

“You were serious?”

“Completely.” He must see my flummoxed face, because he adds, “What? You don’t like horses?”

“I don’t have an opinion either way, actually.”

“Well, me neither. I just couldn’t bear the thought of taking you upstairs and everyone listening as I fucked you silly.”

“Oh, it’s so good to hear you say that. For a moment I thought you were going to teach me how to ride one of these beasts,” I say, as we enter the massive building, which holds a dozen well-groomed horse in their stalls.

“That would be a complete waste of an hour. Besides, why would I teach you to ride a horse when you can ride me perfectly well?” he asks, deadpan.

But I see the twinkle in his eye. He pulls me to him, his hand on my face, another on my waist, and he kisses me.

The kind of kiss girls dream about. The kind of kiss I’ve always wanted. The kind of kiss that says everything.

That says you are mine.

“I missed you,” I say, breathless, once we pull apart.

“Oh, love, you have no fucking clue.”

“Show me,” I tell him. My whole body is alive with desire, with lust, with passion. My core is alive with his hands on my skin, my body wanting to sink against his flesh, run my hands across his back. Take him inside of me.

Landon picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my hands running through his hair. I kiss his ear, his neck, my breath pressed against his body, his hardness too far away for me to feel.

I want to feel him. All of him.

He leads me to a back room, a changing room where tall leather boots make a tidy row, where stirrup pants hang on hooks beside heavy coats. He locks the door to the windowless room.

“I can’t be apart from you like that again, Claire.”

“I know. Not ever.” My fingers undo the row of buttons on his tailored shirt. Once it’s open, I splay my hands across his strong, firm chest. He is so solid; he makes me feel so safe. I run my fingers over his nipples until they’re hard, and then I reach for his pants. “Thank you for getting the divorce process started.”