King:Las Vegas Bad Boys(4)

My legs wrap around him, his hands push back my hair softly, and we roll  over, so I'm on top of him. Our eyes meet; time seems to pause. I'm  breathing hard and heavy, anticipating what comes next, him entering me  with his thickness, his completely capable body melding against mine.







I thought I'd want dirty sex, hard and fast, to just get my first time  post-baby out of the way. I always thought if I hooked up with a guy it  would be against a wall, something rushed and off-the-cuff-but ever  since I walked into this suite, it's felt tender.

Every movement Landon makes feels sincere.

And maybe it's because he's just that good of a player.

Or maybe I just needed this time to be sweet and soft. And maybe the  universe decided, for once in my fucking life, to give me what I needed.

Landon reaches over to the nightstand for a condom, rips it open. And  every inch of my skin drips with longing for him to be inside me. I've  never felt a man touch me like Landon does now. His fingers run across  my breasts, my stomach, before he moves to slide on the protection.

He feels safe. He feels like the only kind of hook-up I could really have.

And, as he unrolls the condom over his thick cock, my phone rings.

The ringtone reserved for my mom-and she only ever calls if it is important.

"Oh, shit," I say, climbing off him and his perfectly-formed body. I  want him so bad, but Sophia is my everything. I reach for the phone in  my clutch.

"Hello?" I say.

"So sorry, I hate to call, I know you're at the wedding, but Sophia's fever spiked again, sweetie. She's begging for you."

Swallowing, I look at Landon, who watches me confused. I'm sure women never stop that ride for a phone call.

But I doubt most women he hooks up with are mothers.

"No, I'm glad you called. I'll leave now."

Hanging up, I reach for my underclothes.

"Sorry, Landon, but ... I've-"

He sits up, raises his hands for me to stop. "No," he says. "It's fine. I don't need an explanation."

"But...." I start. The truth is, though, I don't want to give him an  explanation. How could I, when I haven't even explained my situation to  Emmy and Tess? "Okay. Well, thanks. For ... everything." I know my voice  hitches, and for a bizarre second I almost feel like I could cry.

I pick up my clothes from the floor, embarrassment flooding my chest.  And I hate that. I shouldn't be embarrassed that I let myself have this  short escape with Landon, and I also shouldn't feel embarrassed that I  need to go home to my daughter.

If my life were different-if I were different-Landon and I would have  made love all night, ordered room service and drank fancy French-pressed  coffee in the morning, with buttery croissants.

But that isn't my life. I'm not that girl. I'm a mom, and I need to get home to my daughter.





Chapter Four





Landon



When Claire leaves, I briefly consider calling for one of the escort  services that Ace so conveniently has listed in a binder in each room of  his hotel.

My cock is fucking stiff like it's never been before. I've haven't had  this much wood without a woman nearby since I first got a hard-on as a  thirteen-year-old boy.

I don't call for an escort, but only because at that moment the only  person I want to fuck is Claire. Which is ridiculous. I have no idea who  called her to make her pack up and go, and I'm not a nosy sonofabitch  on top of everything else.

Besides, I knew before I ever brought Claire up here tonight, that she  and I play in different leagues. Run in different crowds. Find entirely  different things desirable.

Except, of course, we both seemed to be rather fond of my face between her tanned legs, sucking on her perfect pussy.

But that is neither here nor there at this point. She said she could  spare me an hour, and I ended up with less than that. The last thing I'd  ever do is ask for a round two when she couldn't even stay for round  one.

Earlier, my ego wasn't bruised, but right now it feels quite sore. I get  up from the bed and take a long cold shower, my mind filled with  Claire's tits and her soft ass and those soulful green eyes.

And I choose to move on. I must. I have plenty of things to contemplate.

Well, that's a slight exaggeration. I don't have anything else pressing  for my attention, per se. Tomorrow there's a blackjack tourney. I'll  work out at the gym McQueen's convinced us all to join. Perhaps I'll  look on the Internet for possibilities for the business park. And I'm  sure to ask a woman to dinner. Perhaps take her to a show. I'd say take  her back here for a good old-fashioned fuck ... but, for the first time  in my life, that doesn't have any sort of appeal.

Which is concerning.

As I wrap a towel around my waist, turn on ESPN, and flip through the  menu for late night room service, I can't shake the feeling that I'm  missing something. Missing some piece of the puzzle. Missing the point,  of all of this. Life. Ambition. Goals.







The other thing I can't seem to shake is that in those minutes when  Claire straddled me, when she looked into my eyes with devotion, seeming  to offer me everything she had to give in that moment, I felt whole.





Claire


I get an Uber and arrive home within thirty minutes. Properly disheveled, but not at all properly screwed.

And I'm disappointed in myself for giving in to Landon. I never give in  to men at the casino. But at Emmy's wedding ... for a moment, Landon  seemed different.

Which is dumb. Landon is like nearly everyone else, living in Vegas for  money and sex and booze. But not me. I'm in Vegas for my daughter, to  try and build a life for my little family.

I turn the key in Mom's condo door and slip inside. I hear Sophia's  small cry right away, and I feel like shit for staying out so late.

"Sweetpea?" I call to Sophia, walking into the room she and I share at  the back of the two-bedroom apartment. "Hey, love," I say, looking down  at my little girl.

Mom gives me a sympathetic shrug.

"Sorry, I know you were having fun," Moms says, standing from where she  was sitting on the edge of the bed Sophia and I share. "But Sophia just  wants you. I gave her some more Tylenol, and a cool bath, I think right  now the best cure is her mama."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, pulling Sophia into my arms.

"I missed you, Mama," she says, her little arms tight around my neck,  her legs wrapped around my waist. In an instant, she is home.

"I'm here. And Gram took good care of you, didn't she?"

"Course she did." I feel Sophia's smile against my neck as she nuzzles closer.

"Thanks for everything

Mom shuts off the light to my room and I kick off my heels, pulling the  duvet over Sophia and me. We sink into our bed with me still in my pink  chiffon bridesmaid dress. Ace and Emmy's wedding, their life at the  Spades Royalle, and my time in Landon's suite all seem like a dream. It  always seems like that when I go down to the strip to work-all bright  lights and glamour and glitz.

I don't want or need a South Pacific honeymoon and the  fourteen-jillion-carat engagement ring on Emmy's finger. I don't need a  diamond tycoon's son or a Grammy-nominated lover. I just want something  more.

And that makes me feel like a terrible mother and a terrible daughter. I  like my life on the strip. And I like my life in this apartment. I just  don't know how to bring them together.

I wonder if my life will always be here and there. Disjointed. Disconnected. Detached.

I wonder if my life will ever feel whole.

Cradled in my arms, Sophia is able to drift into sleep, her fever  already fading with the healing power of being in the arms of someone  who makes everything feel safe.

I close my eyes, wishing someone held me who could make me feel that way, too.

And, strangely, feeling like I had been held that way, for a sliver of a  moment, when Landon hovered on top of me, looking in my eyes, seeing me  in a way I didn't understand.





Chapter Five





Landon



It's been a solid two weeks since Ace's wedding, and I haven't seen  Claire once. Not that I ever see her on the casino floor-her shifts are  usually daytime, and I'm usually still sleeping at that hour.

Which is probably for the best. An awkward post-almost-rendezvous run-in  isn't something I necessarily want to have. I know once Ace and Emmy  get back in town it will be inevitable, but what can I say? Avoiding  confrontation is a fucking cornerstone of my goddamned existence.

I've just pulled up to the gym when the phone rings. My father.

Bloody fantastic.

"Hello?" I say into the now-parked car, Bluetooth activated.

"Landon, my boy, you sound exasperated. Surely you're pleased to hear from your father."

"Is everything alright?" I ask, not really interested in the  never-ending small-talk-chatter my parents expertly engage in. Some  English families are thrifty and sparse with conversation. My parents  are not.

I don't hold much against them, but their never-ending desire for me to  join my brother Geoffrey as a productive member of English society, join  in the cricket league in Hertfordshire, and stroll around in wellies  with a bloody retriever fetching a ball before we break for a bit and  shoot for sport makes me a bit ill. My father's dream for me is a bit  much.