King:Las Vegas Bad Boys(2)

Emmy smiles, and I do, too. My mom's last text was actually a relief.  Sophia's fever was gone, and after fighting it all day she was asleep  for the night.

"Excuse me," Landon says, standing next to me. I didn't even notice him get up from the table. "Would you care to dance?"

Okay, I know I've said Ace's friends aren't my type-and they aren't. But  Landon's English accent is actually pretty hot. As in very hot. Like,  the hottest.

"Oh," I say, caught off guard. "Yeah, sure." I raise my eyebrows, setting down the champagne.

He takes my hand, leading me to the dance floor, and I tell my shoulders  to relax. Yes, that is something I actually have to command. Because  Emmy is absolutely right.

I have been wound up lately.

Or, more like, I've been wound up for five years straight.

I'm a twenty-four year old single mom in Las Vegas-a cocktail waitress  trying to make life as stable as possible for my five-year-old daughter.  Which isn't easy when I'm doing it all on my own.

And there isn't a man in sight who's up for the task of helping me balance it all.





Chapter Two





Landon



Claire may be no-nonsense-but she's also rather hot. Her platinum-blonde  hair and always-on bright red lipstick make her an absolute bombshell.

So why have I never attempted to shag her before? Mostly because Ace  told me if I so much as tried, he would murder me. And considering he  grew up in the mob, I tend to believe him.

And, secondly, Claire isn't my typical conquest. She's ... well, how do I  put it? She's quite adult. I've been out with her and the crew numerous  times, but she's never gotten drunk, never let any bloke get too  close-certainly never gone home with anyone. She always pays her own tab  and doesn't chat about trivial things, like the celebrity sightings in  the casino that get Tess and Emmy all bubbly.

She is, like I've said, much more mature for her age than I've ever  been-than I am. Fuck. I'm twenty-seven, and a completely worthless  asshole compared to her. And yet, as I lead Claire to the dance floor, I  can't help but wonder what it would be like to sleep with her.

She isn't a stick-up-her-ass adult, mind you. She's clever. And funny.  And gorgeous. She's just not frivolous. Which is actually quite an  appealing combination.

She just seems a bit out of the league I usually play in.

Which isn't to say I can't have her. Ace is going to be off with Emmy,  headed to a honeymoon in the South Pacific. He doesn't bloody well need  to know about Claire and me having a little post-wedding rendezvous.

"So, Claire, how are you this evening?" I ask, wrapping an arm around  her waist. I've never been this close to her before, and as she places  one hand on my shoulder and takes my hand in other, I can't help but  think that I like the way she fits against me.

I'm rather tall and lean, whereas Claire is average height and her body  is quite slight-narrow shoulders, not curvy or voluptuous.

Rather, Claire is a classic beauty, save for her bright blonde hair.  Still, even with her loud hair, she isn't gaudy and excessive. And  besides her signature red lips, there's little make up on her face. Her  skin is naturally bronzed from plenty of time in the Vegas heat, and her  eyes are bright, alive. A gorgeous green.

And, being this close to her, I'm actually quite taken by the way she  hums along with this old jazzy tune. The way her body seems to rest into  mine as we glide over the dance floor. And she actually appears to know  how to waltz. I haven't waltzed in years-not since they forced us to  learn at the boarding school mum and dad sent Geoffrey and me to-yet  we've unconsciously found a rhythm.

"Are we waltzing?" I ask Claire, leaning close. My lips graze her ear as  I speak, and a smile finds its way across my usually sharp and  sarcastic face. Fuck, this woman smells amazing, too-honeysuckle and  vanilla-and I would inhale her if that weren't a very creepy thing to do  in public.

Claire lets out a sigh, and I swear she's just breathed me in, too. "I  was obsessed with learning these stuffy dances when I was a girl. Forced  my mother to get me lessons at a dance hall where a very old woman  named Mrs. Macarthur taught me. No one else knows how to waltz. But you  do," she says, crinkling her eyes in surprise as we continue to float  across the room.

"I do. I know quite a lot of things, actually."

"What else do you know, Landon, blackjack player extraordinaire and self-proclaimed asshole?"

"Fucking bullocks. You already know all there is to know about me. I'm just a washed-up Englishman far from home."







"You're all talk, Landon," Claire says, smirking. Her lip curls in such a  teasing way that I'm sure when she's in a bedroom she knows exactly how  to play. "I heard you've taken the lead with the property investment  that Ace was wrapped up with. That isn't something a washed-up  Englishman would do."

"I suppose." I shouldn't be surprised Claire knows about the property,  I'm sure Emmy tells her everything. "But I don't even know what I'll do  with that half-burned down space."

"I'm sure someone as smart as you will figure it out." Claire squeezes  my hand as the song comes to an end, and suddenly I don't want to let  her go.

I want to take off her dress, if I'm being honest.

We stand on the dance floor, arms still holding one another, and the MC calls everyone to watch as Ace and Emmy cut their cake.

I swallow, all of a sudden wanting Claire so badly. I want to see her  glowing skin bare, her blonde tresses pulled down, my hands running over  all of her.

Fuck. My cock twitches in desire.

Claire turns her head, and I follow her gaze. We watch as Ace and Emmy  cut their cake, shoving it in one another's faces. It's sugary sweet,  the entire thing.

"Do you want to go somewhere with me?" I ask Claire.

"Is it somewhere less ... I don't know ... perfect?" She looks around  the ballroom filled with bouquets of red roses-Emmy's signature flower.  There are piles of decadent food and glossy people and flawless  ambience. "It's an awful lot to take."

I see then that the reason Claire doesn't have eyes all starry like Tess  and Ashley is because she's jaded, bruised. Not like Emmy-not because  of a sordid past full of drugs and whatnot. No, Claire has had her heart  broken and she can only take so much love-at-first-sight nonsense.

Good. She's even better to take to my suite than I thought. She won't  get clingy after tonight. She isn't looking for forever, because she  doesn't believe in it.

"I'm taking you to my room, and we're going to fuck ourselves silly. It  won't be rose petals and love notes. It will be hot sex, just one  night."

"I can't do one night," she says, and for a moment I wonder if I've read  her all wrong. But then she licks her lips, smiles. "I can only do one  hour."





Claire


I don't do hook-ups, mostly because the guys who offer them are creeps  at the casino. And Landon is a casino junky, and an absolute no-go as  far as boyfriend material is concerned. To be honest, what I'm really  looking for is father material.

But I can't help but feel myself get hot at the idea of his hands on my  skin, his body pressed tight to mine ... oh, God, I've never been with  anyone as sexy as Landon.

Those regular shmoes I've been dating don't have ripped muscles and  strong jawlines and absolutely panty-wetting accents. Beer bellies are  kind of a guarantee.

Landon does not have a beer belly. He has a rock-hard chest, at least  from what I could tell as he led me around the dance floor.

"Well," Landon says. "If you can only spare one singular hour, we'd best be getting on."

"We should wait until they're off, shouldn't we?"

"Look," Landon says, pointing at the happy couple. "They're ready for their wedding night to begin as much as we are. Watch."

The MC directs everyone to wish the bride and groom a happy life, as  Emmy tosses her bouquet into the crowd. Tess dives for it. Bless her  heart, of course she does.

Then Ace sweeps his bride up in his arms and they're off, toward the  helicopter on the top of the casino, to the airport and Tahiti and most  likely ridiculously amazing beach sex.

I'm not jealous, I'm just really, really horny all of a sudden. Standing so close to Landon is getting me all bothered.

Reaching for a flute of champagne that a waiter carries on a tray, I  take a swig of liquid courage. I need it. Before today's spa with Tess  and Emmy, I hadn't been properly trimmed down there in well, years.

To say I'm a bit rusty in the sex department is an understatement. Sex  with hotties is never on my priority list. That's usually taken up with  Kindergarten drop-off and bedtime stories.

So. Okay. The truth is I haven't had sex with anyone since Sophia was born.

Five years ago.

Sex is never on the agenda. And most of those guys I date don't get past  second base. Because if isn't going to be the real deal, I don't have  time to waste.

"Let me grab my purse and you can do with me whatever you like."

I mean it. I need it. I don't even know if I know how to do it anymore. But for one hour, I want to try and remember.