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“Hi,” she murmured.
“We’ve moved a helluva long way past hello.” His voice set off an aftershock pulsing up through her. “You just rode me to the best damn orgasm of my life.”
“The best?” She wrapped the robe around her body and sat beside him on the bed. “You don’t have to say that.” He was sweet to compliment her, but one red dress and a list of fantasies did not make her Bond girl material.
“You might not believe me now,” he said, sitting up and easily slipping his hands free from the bow that looked as if it belonged on a present, not a SEAL. “But it would be my pleasure to prove it to you tomorrow.”
He stood and headed for the trash, his back to her as he disposed of the condom. He turned to face her with his hands on his hips and his head cocked. “Assuming you want me to stay.”
She’d expected him to pull on his pants and head for the door. The thought of sleeping in his arms and waking up to his voice, his body, and oh, heaven help her, his words…
If she said yes, she might start to believe the fantasy. And when she stepped onto the plane Monday afternoon, it would hurt that much more. But she’d learned to live with pain and rejection before. It was the pure pleasure that was new to her. She wouldn’t let this opportunity slip her by. Who knew when she’d have a chance to live out a fantasy like this again?
“Yes,” she said. “Stay with me.”
Chapter Eight
Walking into a Vegas breakfast buffet dressed in the tux he’d worn to last night’s opening—minus the bow tie—screamed walk of shame. And shit, today he had a damn good reason to hang his head in disgrace. He should crawl into the doghouse for breaking his promise to his best friend. And for hiding the truth from Lucia.
He’d done a lot of things that rode the line between right and wrong while serving his country, but holding back from Lucia felt like a new low. Yeah, he was pissed at Natalie for hiding pieces of her sister’s story. But his anger was like a fine sheet of ice. Beneath the frozen surface, his heart broke for what his friend had suffered.
Natalie was tough now, but he hated the fact that she’d been forced to develop her don’t-fuck-with-me attitude as she’d been passed from one foster home to another. And after hearing her story, he suspected Natalie shouldered a share of the guilt for their foster father’s actions. Hell, maybe Natalie had been protecting herself as much as Lucia by keeping these things secret.
His phone vibrated against his leg, and he withdrew it from his tuxedo pants. Please don’t let it be Natalie. He needed to talk to Lucia’s sister, but not before breakfast.
He glanced at the screen, spotted his home number, and moved away from the crowd gathered by the plates. “It’s my dad. I need to take this, but it won’t take long.”
Lucia nodded. “I’ll wait for you.”
He held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”
“Cade!
” His father’s voice boomed through his phone. “When do you get into town? My calendar said last night, but I know how these things change. I can’t wait to see you, son. I made a list of things we can do to make the most of your leave.”
“I’m here. I arrived last night, but I had plans.”
“Oh.” The excitement vanished from his old man’s voice.
Cade winced. He could picture his father counting down the days until Cade’s leave. Hell, as a kid, Cade had done the same thing. “But I’d love to meet up later and fill you in. In fact, I could use your help.”
“I don’t know how much advice I have to offer these days,” his father said. “Does this have something to do with your team?”
“No. But I know you can help. Pick a time this afternoon that works for you and shoot me a text.” Cade glanced at Lucia waiting patiently to the side of the buffet line. “Right now, I’ve got to go.”
He ended the call, slipped his phone back in his pocket, and headed for Lucia. “Ready to eat?”
She smiled. “Starving.”
They moved to the end of the buffet line. A tall, slim woman in a pink tank with the word “Angel” written across her chest turned to Lucia and offered a plate from the stack. The angel let out a soft gasp but quickly covered it with a fake smile.
“Thank you,” Lucia murmured. She turned her face and kept the scarred side out of the woman’s view.
He picked up a plate still warm from the dishwasher and fought the urge to snap the china in two. The casual glances thrown in their direction as he’d walked through the hotel in last night’s tux took on new meaning. He placed a hand in the small of her back and guided her forward. The woman in the pink shirt bypassed the hot food and headed straight for the fruit.
Lucia’s gaze followed the other woman. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she looked away. Shit, she’d lived with that for years. No wonder she didn’t bother letting it show how much the woman’s expression must have hurt. Witnessing it firsthand, he wished he could shield her from that kind of pain.
“I’m having potatoes,” she said, her voice low as if divulging a dirty secret as she spooned home fries onto her plate.
