“Gavin...” She had no idea what she meant to say. When his mouth settled over hers, her brain short-circuited. He was a great kisser. World-class. On a scale of one to ten, a thirteen. The only unlucky thing about that number was that they were both fully dressed.
He took his time, drawing attention to the fact that her experience was limited at best. Unapologetic, he slid his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the act they both wanted.
When she was starved for oxygen, he pulled back, his heavy-lidded gaze searching hers. “I don’t know why you’re here,” he said gruffly, with perhaps the slightest note of accusation in his voice.
“I can leave.” It would probably be best if she did. What had started as a personal declaration of independence suddenly seemed far more serious.
“Do you do this often?”
The insinuation infuriated her. “No,” she snapped. “How about you?”
He grinned. “Never. Maybe we’re experiencing Vegas madness. I’ve heard about it.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she sniffed. “I’m a native.”
“And I’m a novice.”
“You’re not a novice anything,” she said drily. “But I could show you the sights if you’re interested.”
“I fly home tomorrow.”
“We have tonight.” She was skating a fine line between taking what she wanted and being totally reckless. But after four years of college and two years of grad school without a break, she wanted to know how it felt to be a woman. In every way.
He toyed with the neckline of her dress. The feel of his slightly rough fingertips on her bare skin made her nipples pebble. “The only sights I’m interested in at the moment are in this room.”
The words were flat. Unadorned with emotion. The blaze in his eyes more than made up for it. So much so that she almost chickened out. To him, she had been a damsel in distress. He had acted honorably, protecting her from a perceived enemy. Only a man with high moral standards did that...right?
She’d always been a good judge of character. It was a necessary skill growing up in Vegas, particularly when your family had a lot of money. Every gut instinct she possessed told her that Gavin Kavanagh was one of the good guys. He was leaving in the morning. Was there any point in starting something that would never amount to anything more?
Playing by the rules was a first-child burden. Good grades, never breaking curfew, always trying to satisfy the parental units. Tonight she was damned if she was going to miss out on something incredible because she was too afraid to take a walk on the wild side.
“I’d like to take a shower.” The follow-up didn’t need to be spelled out.
“May I join you?”
So polite. But it wasn’t really a question. She swallowed hard. “I suppose.”
He shifted her out of his lap onto her feet. Her legs felt like overcooked pasta and her heartbeat was none too steady.
“I like your hair.” He ruffled his hand through it, mussing the style.
Every time she thought she had him pinned down, he surprised her. Men in general had little patience when it came to sexual gratification. At least the ones she knew. Gavin, on the other hand, possessed remarkable restraint.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t get shy now.” He chuckled, taking her hand and leading her across the thick carpet that made her toes curl.
The bathroom was palatial and decadent. She spared a glance for the hot tub, but Gavin shook his head. “Later.”
He turned the faucet control in the glass enclosure. Triple showerheads sprouted streams of water. “Last chance.”
They were both still fully clothed except for her shoes. Though he might not like it, she knew she could turn around and leave the suite. He wouldn’t chase after her. Her confidence wavered. Was she really about to get stark naked with a handsome stranger in his opulent shower stall?
She spared a glance in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman who stood there. “Do you have any wine?”
“Needing a bit of Dutch courage, are we?”
“Don’t make fun of me,” she said. “You’re an intimidating man.”
“Which is why you insisted on coming to my room and throwing yourself at me.”
Hot color swept from her throat to her hairline. From where he was standing, it must have seemed that way. How could she explain that he had dazzled her without even trying? “You’ll be disappointed if you think I’m a pro.”
“I thought we already established that you’re not a pro.”
“That’s not what I mean. I haven’t done this kind of thing.”
“Sex? Or seduction?”
“I have not seduced you,” she said primly, secretly charmed that he thought she could.
He nodded briefly, his firm lips curved in a sensual smile. “I’ll admit to being predisposed. You’re a very appealing woman.”
The die was cast. “How about fetching us some of that wine while I get undressed?”
Gavin’s hands shook as he opened a bottle of Zinfandel. He managed to pour two glasses without spilling anything, but it was a close call. In his bathroom was a naked young female...the most beautiful woman he had seen in a very long time. If he had to create a sexual partner from scratch, she would look a lot like Cassidy Corelli.
Her sun-kissed Mediterranean coloring and cheeky personality were irresistible. He’d never particularly believed in fate as the arbiter of his destiny. He was too much of a control freak for that. But some unseen force or quirk of timing had put him near that alley at exactly the right moment. It was his choice how to proceed.
He carried the wine into the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that Cassidy was already undressed. She had donned one of the hotel’s signature bathrobes. It was much too large for her.
“Most people wait until after the shower to cover up,” he said drily. The acres of terry cloth might as well have been armor. But what his guest didn’t realize was that bare feet and flushed cheeks gave her an air of innocence. The juxtaposition of smart-mouthed banter with youthful naïveté brought tenderness into the mix.
“I was cold,” she said.
Since the bathroom was steamy, he took that with a grain of salt. Though he had turned off the water when he saw they weren’t getting in immediately, the room was plenty warm.
“Drink some wine,” he said, handing her a glass. “It will settle your nerves.”
She scowled at him over the rim of her crystal flute. “Who says I’m nervous?”
Leaning a hip against the counter, he drained half his glass. “Aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be?”
“Not unless you’re a twisted psychopath.”
“It’s a little late to worry about that now, don’t you think?”
She set down the glass of wine she had barely touched and shoved her hands in her pockets. Her chin lifted. “I can read people.”
“Do tell.”
“You were a Boy Scout. Eagle, if I had to guess.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”
“So