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“And biscuits,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “Don’t forget those. Or the bacon.”
She glanced longingly at the biscuits. “Those are made with real butter. And they’re packed with flaky, melt-in-your-mouth carbs.”
“How about I take two and you can have one off my plate? That way the calories don’t count,” he said, recalling a fling with a woman who’d had a strong aversion to carbs. But only when they touched her plate. Everyone else’s food was fair game. Of course he’d tried that trick with Natalie once and she’d told him that if he ate off her plate she’d slap his hand away.
“No.” She reached for the biscuits. “I want my own.”
He followed her through the rest of the buffet, watching as she turned her face away from curious glances and smiled at the few people who made eye contact. The look in her eyes was reminiscent of an apology. He swore her reaction to the stares was more instinctual than intentional.
It happened again as they wound their way through the tables, but this time for a different reason. A man in an “I’m in Love With Love” T-shirt looked at Lucia, and she smiled. Except lover boy wasn’t focused on her face. The man’s gaze lingered on her chest.
Cade shook his head. No wonder she had trouble trusting his desire for her, not when she was accustomed to people treating her like an object, not a person. No concern for who she was. What she wanted. How she felt.
He moved to her side and blocked the guy’s view. He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to a two-top against the wall. His actions screamed mine, mine, mine to anyone glancing their way.
“What’s on your Post-it note list for today?” he asked once they were seated.
She looked at him over the top of her biscuit. “I’ve been dreaming about a lounge chair by the pool, my book, and a strawberry daiquiri with an umbrella in it.”
He could picture her in a bikini that barely contained her breasts and her mouth wrapped around a straw. “Do you like fruity cocktails more or less than chocolate?”
“More.” She took a bite and closed her eyes. “I’ve stayed away from daiquiris, piña coladas, chocolatinis, and oh, God, biscuits for the past six months. I’ve been trying to be good—”
“Not today.” He reached for his ice water. “Vegas isn’t the place for good. Trust me.”
“And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”
“Not the memories.” Six months from now, he had a feeling that when he closed his eyes, he’d see her mouth. The memory of her lips wrapped around a berry—or hell, his dick—would follow him halfway around the world.
And he hoped she’d recall every touch, every kiss and remember how it felt to be cherished, her body worshipped for hours. In his eyes, a few cuts didn’t rob her of the beauty she’d been born with.
But it had stolen her confidence. Watching her walk through a room filled with strangers without her mask, he had a feeling there were moments when she wanted to disappear.
“I’m not going to forget last night,” she said, her voice firm.
“Or today. I’m going to make your dream come true at one of the best pools in Vegas,” he said, the pieces of a plan quickly falling into place.
She raised an eyebrow. “What makes it the best?”
“There’s a beach with real sand,” he said. “I have a friend who handles the cabana reservations. He should be able to hook us up without having to slip past security.”
“What about your father? Isn’t he expecting you?”
“We talked about getting together later, but he’ll understand if I need to rework the schedule.” He focused on layering his biscuit with eggs and bacon. “My dad was in the Navy. A SEAL. And believe me, he always made the most out of his downtime. He loves Vegas and everything this city has to offer.”
Ball games, camping trips, and even the occasional concert at one of the Vegas hotels—his dad treated leave like one big celebration. His mother had enjoyed their adventures in the moment, but Cade knew it had made it that much worse when he left again. Everyday life dulled in comparison. And the fear that his dad might not make it back had loomed over them month after month.
“So you’re following in your father’s footsteps?”
Hell, I hope not.
When Cade looked to the future, he saw battles fought overseas, not shouting matches at the kitchen table about why serving in the teams trumped damn near everything else.
“Your dad must have really loved his job,” she added. “For you to want to join the Navy, too.”
“He did,” Cade admitted. “He carried the honor on his sleeve. After my parents split, I had to see what it was about. So I joined.”
“Did you figure it out?” she asked.
