Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (36 page)

That she enjoyed seeing his bliss, even when she wasn’t the one administering the pain, was a little surprising.

She tugged her chair nearer to Michael’s right side, the better to whisper in his ear. His right arm lay across her lap, wrist facing up. She trailed her fingertips over his open palm. “How are you doing, baby?”

He rolled his head slowly to look at her. Watch her. She loved that steady, intense way of his. His smile grew a fraction. “Green light.”

She scratched her nails lightly under his hair, over his scalp. He was starting to get a little shaggy again. No matter the warnings Fang had given him over the past months, he kept pushing the regs, letting his hair grow out as long as he could. They both enjoyed when she wrapped her fingers in that silky softness.

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” she purred.

The tattoo artist flicked an amused glance up before going back to work on the inside of Michael’s left wrist. The man’s shaved-bald head shone in the bright lights of the tiny, private booth.

Leah didn’t give a crap. For one thing, the sheer square-footage of ink covering him said he was no stranger to alternative lives. Most important of all, she and Michael were together. What others thought didn’t matter so long as they had each other.

That wasn’t to say they flaunted the specific dynamics of how they worked, but they didn’t hide either. The rather spectacular reveal of their relationship had meant everyone on Nellis talked for months. She couldn’t have cared any less. She was proud of Michael, proud that everyone knew the partnership they shared.

She curled her hand under his right wrist, the one that was finished. A possessive flush swept through her once again. Four exquisitely tattooed links of chain marked him as hers. Permanently. The carefully shaded links looked like heavy metal. Perfect and unbroken.

They’d decided against wrapping the design around his entire wrist, figuring that might be a little much. It was enough that he was bound to her. Just like she was bound to him. She wore the paper airplane necklace every single day, except when she was flying.

She traced a fingertip over the top of his cheek, where his faint laugh lines were scored. “You know, pet, you seem to have lost your poker face.”

His tongue slicked over his bottom lip as he blinked a few times, obviously trying to gather some semblance of thought together. “Don’t need it. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. If it sounded suspiciously like a giggle, she sure wasn’t admitting it. “Jesus. Every time I think I’ve got it under control, you have to go and get more perfect.”

“You’re obviously delusional, Major.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I haven’t been pinned yet.”

“Yeah, but you made the list.” He turned his hand and wove their fingers together. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“There.” The tattoo artist set his gun on a side counter. “We’re done.”

Michael let out a long, slow breath. His eyes were the dark, deep blue that she loved so much.

She swallowed around the knot in her throat. “Can we get a second?”

The guy smirked but ducked out anyway, closing the half-curtain of the booth.

Leah pushed off with her heels and rolled her seat directly in front of Michael. She laced their fingers together, palms up, and tugged forward so that his wrists hovered side by side.

“Beautiful,” she breathed. She brushed a kiss over the bottom of his palm, right under the black ink. “Did it hurt badly?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“But you slid away. A little bit. I liked seeing it.” Her thumbnails traced the lines of his palm. If she were the type of person to believe in mystic crap, she might try to figure out where her lifeline wove in with his. A tiny shake went up his arms.

“You’ve dealt out much worse.” The wicked smile that curved his lips said he didn’t mind. “It was more than the pain. More like knowing what it meant.”

She couldn’t stay away from him for long. Sliding out of her seat, she practically crawled up his body until she nestled in his lap. Straddling him.

He was so solid for her. Calm and self-assured. Patient. Always waiting for her cues. Leah folded her hands along the sides of his face and kissed him, letting his strength ground her. The last vestiges of her nerves eased away. She
needed
him. Without Michael, she would’ve spun out into the stratosphere. Sooner or later.

She nuzzled the length of his neck then grazed her teeth over his skin. “Tell me what it means to you.” She already knew, since they’d talked about it long and hard, but that didn’t make it any less sweet to hear.

His hands caressed her hips. “It means I’m yours.”

The flat-out
rightness
of it jolted under her ribs.

“I love you, pet,” she said against his skin. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but the way it got easier and easier was remarkable. Amazing and perfect. No more fear dragging her down.

“I love you, ma’am.”

She wiggled out of his lap then stopped with her hand on the curtain. “Now, I’m going to call him in here. I want you to listen to the aftercare instructions very carefully.”

His lips spread in that wide, wicked smile. She’d known the moment she’d seen his smile, years ago, how devious it could make her feel. She just hadn’t realized where it would take them and that it could make her feel so strong.

“I will, ma’am.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

His gaze flicked down to the tattooed chains at his wrist. “You’ll tell me if you want to.”

She moved back to the chair, carefully dipping her head to his ear. Close enough that he would feel her breath on his skin, but far enough to keep it a tantalizing promise. “I want to know exactly how long it will be before I can put real chains on your wrists. You’ll wear them just long enough for me to make you come so hard that you forget where you are.”

He breathed her name then drew her down for a kiss. The sheer emotion in the move let her know exactly how deeply he felt it too. “As long as you’re there, I always know where I am. Safe.”

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “We’ll keep each other safe, Michael. Together. Always.”

Author’s Note

The 64
^th
Aggressor Squadron is an active United States Air Force unit assigned to the 57
^th
Adversary Tactics Group, stationed at Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas, Nevada. The pilots’ objectives are as we’ve described: to fly as adversaries against allied pilots from around the world, teaching them to better counter enemy tactics. The unit dates back to WWII when it participated in multiple theaters of operation.

Now, the 64
^th
and other “bandits” from the 57
^th
ATG regularly conduct dogfighting simulations in the United States, known as Red Flags, and Maple Flag exercises in conjunction with Canadian Forces. They also add their expertise to the USAF’s Weapons School syllabus and travel the country to provide training and test mission support to various units.

All individuals described in this story are fictitious. Research mistakes are entirely our own.

In the meantime, we enjoy assuming that at least one of these dedicated, highly skilled bandits rides a big, mean motorcycle.

About the Author

Katie Porter is the writing team of Carrie Lofty and Lorelie Brown, who’ve been friends and critique partners for more than five years. Both are multi-published in historical romance. Carrie has an MA in history, while Lorelie is a US Army veteran. Generally a high-strung masochist, Carrie loves running and weight training, but she has no fear of gross things like dissecting formaldehyde sharks. Her two girls are not appreciative. Lorelie, a laid-back sadist, would rather grin maniacally when Carrie works out. Her three boys love how she screams like a little girl around spiders.

To learn more about the authors who make up Katie, visit
www.katieporterbooks.com
or follow them on Twitter at
@carrielofty
and
@LorelieBrown
.

Look for these titles by Katie Porter

Now Available:

Vegas Top Guns

Double Down

Inside Bet

Coming Soon:

Vegas Top Guns

Hard Way

Bare Knuckle

Club Devant

Lead and Follow

Chains and Canes

Pretty and Twisted

Came Upon a Midnight Clear

Desire as reckless as a fighter jet in freefall…and just as dangerous.

Double Down

© 2012 Katie Porter

Vegas Top Guns, Book 1

As part of the 64th Aggressor Squadron, Major Ryan “Fang” Haverty flies like the enemy to teach Allied pilots how not to die. The glittering excess of the Strip can’t compare to the glowing jet engines of his F-16. But a sexy, redheaded waitress in seamed stockings? Now
she
gets his blood pumping.

Cassandra Whitman’s good-girl ways haven’t earned any slack from her manager ex-boyfriend, or prevented a bad case of frazzle from holding down two and a half jobs. She sure wouldn’t mind letting the handsome Southern charmer shake up her routine.

Their wild weekend lives up to Sin City’s reputation. Especially when they discover a matched passion for roleplaying. For Cass, it’s an exciting departure from her normal, shy persona. But for Ryan, it triggers memories of a time when his fetish drove away the woman he loved—leaving him reluctant to risk a repeat performance.

Except Cass refuses to settle for ordinary ever again. She’s about to show the man with hair-trigger hands that she’s got a few surprise moves of her own.

Warning: This book contains dirty-hot roleplaying, featuring an all-alpha fighter pilot and an ambitious waitress with a fabulous imagination. Also: dressing-room sex, a plaid schoolgirl skirt, and a sprinkling of spankings.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Double Down:

She assessed her appearance in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. For the hundredth time. No change. She still looked like a naughty fantasy.

A French maid. She should’ve guessed.

Her grin took on a distinctly sexual edge, which she didn’t mind at all. The blush too felt right—a little self-conscious, a little anxious. Already the temperature in her blood upped toward scalding.

“You greedy slut,” she whispered to her reflection, the grin broadening. “One great time wasn’t enough.”

Her nerves stretched and stretched as she waited. She’d ordered room service and managed to take a quick shower. Her hair was still wet, but she’d bound it in a sleek bun at the base of her neck. A light application of the cosmetics she’d snagged during a two-minute run through a store in The Paris’s lobby had done wonders to hold back the look of fatigue.

Ryan’s knock, when it came, sped her heartbeat. If she played the French maid, she wondered what he would be. A bedraggled traveler who’d had the buttons yanked off his shirt? A down-on-his-luck gambler?

And just how far would she push this? Cass had spent the last hour trying to get inside his head. There was a huge gulf between a bit of dress-up and full roleplaying. She was almost surprised at how much she wanted it to be the latter. Something that tipped over, deep inside. Something had
unlocked
. She could be anything, say anything, do anything.

The worst he would do is laugh, maybe flash that pulse-pounding smile and tell her to drop the act. He might merely be a guy after something different to look at, but that didn’t feel right, not for Ryan. She had a guess as to what he liked, and she was willing to give it a shot.

His knock was more insistent the second time. Good. She didn’t like to think that he’d give up on her.

Cass took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ryan stood at the threshold wearing a fantastic dress uniform. The dark blue did marvelous things for his healthy tan, and the braided silver trim looked impressively realistic. Navy? No, that wasn’t right. Air Force, maybe?

More than the color and the authenticity of the costume, she loved how it was exactly tailored to his body—tall and lean, long and strong. Only a slack, bewildered expression gave away his response to her maid’s outfit. Otherwise he embodied everything impressive and sexy about a man in uniform.

“Oh!
Monsieur
Haverty,” she said in her best French accent. A year spent studying art in Paris would finally prove good for something. “I hadn’t expected you so soon.
Merci
, come in.”

He hesitated for only a second. Then the reality of what she’d done and said—how she sounded—seemed to click in his brain. “Thank you. I didn’t expect to be kept waiting.”

“My apologies,
monsieur
. I was only just finishing up.”

“I don’t appreciate sloppy service.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, daring to glance up from beneath lowered lashes. He surveyed the hotel room with the air of a man who expected perfection and found it lacking. A curious heat bloomed in her stomach, reveling in his command of the moment.