Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (28 page)

Only after the waiter cleared away the plates from the first course did Mike dare to hand over the gift. Make or break time. “Have you waited long enough, ma’am?”

“I think so,” she said with a grin. “Give it here.”

He handed her a small package, wrapped inexpertly with dark red paper. He’d needed to buy tape to wrap it, and even that small chore—running up to the shoppette after hours—had made him smile. When had he fallen so head over heels for her? Looking it in the face made his chest pinch.

“I like small presents.” Her red nails flashed as she tore into the paper like a kid. Her motions slowed, however, as she lifted the hinged lid. “Oh, Michael.”

She drew out the gold chain—a box chain, he’d been told, which was sturdier. A pendant shone in the candlelight of their private table. The artist had done a remarkable job with that lush metal. Its folds and creases were slightly irregular, not perfectly aligned, which made it look even more realistic.

A little paper airplane made of gold.

Leah’s expression had softened beyond anything he’d ever seen. The sparkle in her eyes had amped, but she blinked it back. “Michael, it’s just…it’s beautiful.”

Her appreciation loosened the knots under his sternum. He breathed again. “It was either that or a new set of tires for your bike.”

A tremulous smile edged her mouth. “Will you put it on me?”

With a nod, he pushed back from the table and laid his napkin on the seat. He unhooked the tiny spring clasp while Leah swished the hair away from her nape. After carefully securing the clasp, he smoothed a caress down the delicate bumps of her spine. He bent low and kissed her there. His lips skimmed over gold and skin.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Before he got caught there, wanting only to taste and drag her soft floral scent into his lungs, he returned to his chair. Leah was holding the tiny airplane, with her chin tucked low to admire it.

“It’s…” She took a quick sip of water. The color was high on her cheeks. “It’s perfect, Michael. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Another course arrived, but the conversation between them slowed. Mike couldn’t explain it for the life of him. She liked the pendant. That much was obvious by how often she touched it. Feathery caresses. Something about it had changed the atmosphere.

He tucked into the main course, enjoying the fare as much as any he’d had in years, but his gusto was gone. He set his fork and knife aside.

“Leah, what’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Sorry. Your present was too large for riding on your bike, so I had it sent to the hotel. It’ll be waiting for us.”

The voice she used was standard-issue Princess. A little clipped. A little try-too-hard. It slid a chill along the inside of his clothes.

His present wasn’t a cuff.

The disappointment he felt was way out of proportion with any sense of reality, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted more. From her.

That didn’t look like it was happening.

“Great,” he said, trying to find that easy smile of his. It didn’t feel right. “Can’t wait.”

The waiter cleared away the plates and brought desert. Leah picked at hers, even though he knew her weakness for all things chocolate. Any other time he would’ve made some allusion to the choice application of chocolate sauce, but his appetite for innuendo had shriveled up.

He suppressed a sigh and gently shoved his plate aside. “You said you want to ride my bike, yeah?”

A glimmer of the Leah he wanted perked up. She rubbed her toe along the inside of his trouser leg. “Sure do.”

“Then how about now?”

Whatever cloud had slunk over her mood dissipated some. She stood from the table, retrieving her helmet. That little gold paper airplane glittered where it sat in the hollow between her collarbones. “Now sounds perfect.”

Chapter Thirty-One

The weight of the necklace was entirely too slight to feel beyond the occasional shift of the chain around her neck. That didn’t mean Leah was in any way capable of forgetting about it. Her fingers kept drifting to the tiny gold airplane while she watched Michael pay the check.

He’d found her the perfect present. Absolutely perfect. There was no other word for it.

While she’d bought him a cop-out gift.

She’d
looked
for a cuff. The ones she’d seen in the store had been so sexy, so beautiful. Her gut reaction had been hot. Possessive. Eventually she’d backed right the hell up. The cuffs weren’t quite right. They’d only been together awhile. A couple months. She could barely even call it dating. They fucked like minxes any chance they got.

That didn’t mean she had a right to claim him. If she ever did, she’d make sure everything was perfect. Michael deserved one hundred percent right, and she’d never quite found that.

Her hand drifted up to the fine chain. The gold had already warmed from her skin.

Outside, he tipped the valet. The noise of street traffic and a little honking was the only thing spinning between them.

So many things Leah could say—if she could make her mouth work. She laced her fingers through his instead, hoping that might settle her. If she was going to go through with what she’d planned for the rest of the night, she needed to have all her ducks in a row. Be crystal clear on her purpose.

Mike seemed so damned self-assured as he patiently waited for his bike. As he had when he’d given her the gift.

She was supposed to be the one in charge. What a joke.

The valet brought the BMW around with a grin. He revved the engine a few more times upon parking it. Who could resist?

Mike popped his helmet on then swung a leg over the bike. He grinned at her. “You coming?”

“Gimme a second.” She licked her lip. “This is too pretty to pass up.”

Whoa and damn, but was it ever. Michael looked good enough to eat. The sleek black suit he wore over an open-necked black shirt combined with the sexy S1000RR to make an image worth photographing. Instead she’d keep a copy in her mind rather than in her nightstand drawer. Definitely worth spending some private time with.

He laughed, but there was something uncomfortable about the sound, as if he were abashed at being so obviously ogled.

So, naturally, Leah dragged out her appreciation. She took in the long length of his legs and the way the trousers pulled over his thighs. The dark suit did nothing to conceal his wide shoulders. Freaking
hot
.

Finally, she put her own helmet on before looking around. The act of getting on a motorcycle in a dress was a little exposing. The valet had obviously realized that and was subtly watching to see if she slipped up. She twirled a finger. He turned away, giving a shrug as if to say it had been worth a shot.

She tucked her skirt down between her legs, grazing her already-warmed pussy. The vibrations of the bike shook up through her body. Every single one of her cells woke up and took notice. She wrapped her arms around Michael’s lean waist, sneaking her hands under the edge of his jacket.

“Straight to the room?” he asked, twisting to see her.

She shook her head. “Just drive for a while. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Captain Leah Girardi, fighter pilot and chickenshit extraordinaire.

She needed some time to gather herself. Put together the pieces she’d thought she had under control.

There was no better way than on the back of Mike’s bike, plastered against him. He drove fast, pushing the speed limit further and further as they left the bright lights of the center of town behind them. She got all the best parts of riding—the speed revving her blood and the wind whipping at her—while the chill helped clear her head.

They had what they had. Did what they wanted to. There were no real expectations on either of them.

Basically she needed to stop freaking out.

Right, like it was that easy. She was the one getting all the prime benefits out of their relationship. The wickedly depraved things he let her do… The rough orders he always followed without question…

Then he’d gone and given her the most perfect birthday present ever, even better than the rose he’d offered with so much sincerity at the Mexican restaurant. What woman was worth the trust he placed so easily in her hands?

It sure wasn’t her.

Eventually she tugged on his shirt then pointed back toward the glaring streak that made up the Strip. Time to get the show on the road.

Caesar’s Palace was gaudy, all bright lights and fake-gold accents. Despite that, Mike looked damn good walking through the lobby. Leah felt almost as good walking at his side.

He held his arm out to her, letting her hook a hand around his biceps. “Do we need to check in?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I came by earlier. Had to drop off some stuff.”

That made his eyes darken in the way she loved so much. It probably wouldn’t last once he saw her present. She forced a smile as she led the way to the banks of elevators.

Three stumbling frat boys spilled out of brass doors but then, Lord-a-mercy, no one else got on with Mike and Leah. As the doors shut behind them, the air went thick. Heavy. She punched the button for their floor with a trembling finger.

His bright, shiny grin was back. “I think it counts as a minor miracle to get an elevator all to yourself on a Friday night in Vegas.”

“That it does.” She leaned against the wall and crooked her finger at him. “Come here and help me celebrate. Kiss me, pet.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said, with only a hint of that smart-ass tone she loved to hate.

He edged into her space. Pushed his body up against hers, then grasped her hips. She wrapped her hands around his face, spearing her fingers up through his hair, scratching her nails over his scalp. His mouth tasted like deep, rich chocolate. Tantalizing. She couldn’t get enough of him.

Their lips slid together, taking and teasing in turn. She lifted a foot, bracing a stiletto to wedge into his hold. She’d probably scuff the wall but couldn’t give a damn, not when she had Michael in her arms again—where she felt more assured of them both.

She rode higher on the wave of want, finally settling into her own skin. This, she knew. This part of them, together, made sense.

The elevator doors dinged open. Michael drew his head back. His lovely mouth was slicked wet. She loved marking him any way she could.

The door started to close again, but he whipped out a hand and held it. “Shall we?”

Her grin felt devious even to her. Or maybe that was the sudden, dirty bend of her thoughts. The sharp reminder of what she hoped for the night. “Oh, definitely. We shall.”

Swishing more and more swing into her hips, she walked ahead of him down the hallway. She reached up to sweep a thick chunk of her hair forward over her shoulder—and brushed the chain of her new necklace.

Renewed anxiety pinched her spine. There was nothing she could do about the disparity now, except try to make the rest of the night perfect for him.

Mike whistled softly as the door swung open. “Nice digs.”

They certainly were. Leah had gone big, choosing a one-bedroom suite for their night. The living area was spacious, with a huge flat-screen TV and dark brown couches, but it had nothing on the bedroom.

When stopping by earlier to drop off her stuff, she’d taken a second to jump on the huge king-sized bed in her bare feet. Doing so with Mike present would get him laughing at her rather than looking at her with such dark heat.

She pointed at the breakfast table, or more specifically, the silver-wrapped present on it. “For you.”

He drifted closer. “May I open it, ma’am?”

“Of course,” she said, but she had to swallow twice.

Long-fingered hands moved efficiently over the paper. When he had it unwrapped, he paused for half a second. She noticed. She noticed everything about him.

He threw her a grin over his shoulder. “A primo coffee maker? What are you implying?”

She made herself laugh. “That I’ve been a saint for drinking gallons of jet fuel. No longer.”

“So,” he said, dragging the word out into a tease. “Does this mean you’ll be around to drink more of it?”

It was the least she could admit, especially after he’d put so much out there for her. “Yes. Lots more, I hope.”

She slipped up to his side, running a hand under the not-quite-proper suit jacket. He looked entirely too badass to be a businessman. Even in the spike heels, she had to reach up to kiss him. Having to push onto her toes didn’t make her feel any weaker, not when he shuddered under the scrape of her nails. She brushed her mouth over his, more of a promise than anything else.

“I got something else too, pet,” she breathed across his lips. “Something for both of us.”

“Did you?” His answer was a deep rumble.

She eased her body up his in a deliberate provocation. Maybe she could help him ignore the obvious difference in their birthday presents. Maybe she could ditch her own lingering doubts.

“I did. You’d make me very, very happy if you let me use it.”

The skin across his high cheekbones went taut. He licked his bottom lip. “What is it?”