Friends With Benefits

Alexa jumped off the couch and started pacing, clearly about to lose her shit as she turned the speaker off and held the phone to her ear. He ignored the urge to comfort her because he knew she wouldn’t let him.

“Yes, of course, Uncle John. The next news article you read about me will be about my heroic dog rescue or helping an elderly widow find love again.”

She sank back down onto the edge of the sofa next to him and tapped the phone to end the call.

“What the hell was that?” Carter asked, resisting brushing away the piece of hair stuck in her red lipstick.

Alexa shook her head, mystified. “Like you heard, he wants to retire and sell the casinos, but my reputation is causing a problem with potential buyers. If I clean it up and he can sell the Wild Nights and Hard Eight casinos, he’ll give me Halcyon outright.”

Carter refilled her glass with the last of the martini from the shaker. Even though it was a good deal for her as far as Halcyon was concerned, he knew she’d rather die than lose the other casinos, too. Alexa was Las Vegas and those casinos; she’d lived and breathed them her entire life. As kids, they’d run the floors of Wild Nights and Hard Eight instead of their backyards, as teenagers they’d worked whatever odd jobs they could, and as adults they’d enjoyed the casinos as they were meant to. But she’d also do whatever her uncle needed no matter how it might hurt her.

“So what’s the play?” he asked, handing her a glass. He often felt like he lived to serve Alexa. Whatever she needed, he did. It was a mutual codependence, as long as he never tried to press her to talk about feelings. Ever since her parents died she’d cut herself off from anything too serious.

“I don’t know,” she said, sounding a little lost. “I have to clean up my image, I guess.”

“So how do you want to do that? I can take over the media aspect of it, make sure content of you doing wholesome stuff gets shared in cyberspace.”

She nodded. “That’s good, but I need to do more. Like practice abstinence and wear a chastity belt, apparently.”

He laughed at the impossibility and she smacked his arm, unamused.

She slumped down into the back of the couch and he put his arm around her shoulders, breathing in the light apple scent of her hair. She’d used the same shampoo and conditioner since high school and it tugged at his gut like it always did.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Carter told her, letting go of her to take a fortifying drink of his martini.

She stilled then, looking over at him speculatively.

“I don’t like that look,” he drawled.

“I need a fake fiancé,” she announced, clapping her hands together. “That would solve everything!”

“And exactly how would that solve everything?” he pressed. Perfect, he thought. He was about to leave for a year just as she decided to get fake-engaged to some random Vegas loser.

“Think about it,” she insisted, kneeling on the couch and facing him. Her hair fell over her shoulders in thick chestnut waves as she moved. “For example, if you and I got fake engaged, it would solve all my problems. We don’t have to invent a backstory because everyone in town already knows we’re close, and spending more time together wouldn’t be terrible because we actually like each other. It would be the quickest way to get everyone to believe that I’ve settled down.”

“Wait, you want me to be your fake fiancé? Uh, no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she asked, her head doing that cute little tilt it always did when she was curious about something. “If you’re worried about San Francisco, I think a month is more than enough time to convince people I’m a changed woman.”

Why wasn’t it a good idea for them to pretend to be engaged? he mused. Maybe because their friendship had become a game to see how long he could be in her presence without throwing her down on the nearest surface and fucking her until they both couldn’t remember their own names? Yeah, maybe that was why.

“I just don’t think I’ll have time. There’s a lot to do before the move.”

She looked slightly crestfallen, but a fake engagement was just too much to ask of him.

“You could stop dating for a while,” he suggested. “You’d get the same result.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “But it will take longer.”

“Yeah, but that’s a good thing, right?” he reasoned. “You don’t want your uncle to sell the casinos right away. In the meantime, maybe you’ll think of a way to change his mind.”

The possibility seemed to at least distract her. “I’m too wired to talk about this now. Let’s get out of here.”

He nodded and followed her out of the office, relieved that he’d put an end to the fake fiancé thing.

They stepped out of the elevator onto the ground floor and the crush of the Friday night crowd was instant sensory overload. The electronic whirring of machines, the tinny clink of coins and the underlying bass beat of rumbling conversation was enough to drive a decent person to recklessness. The anonymity was liberating.

When they finally stepped outside into the bright lights of Vegas, he could tell that Alexa needed to blow off some steam and wasn’t surprised when she grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” she urged, pulling him across the street to Elysium. “Let’s gamble and make bad decisions.”

“So much for reinventing yourself,” he pointed out.

“Tomorrow,” she promised with a wink, shoving open the front doors to the towering casino.

CHAPTER THREE

AS SHE’D KNOWN he would, Carter waited for her while she played several hands of blackjack even though he hated gambling. She won her last hand with twenty-one and turned around to celebrate with Carter, but he wasn’t there.

She collected her winnings and left the table, roaming around until she finally found him in the grand lobby talking on his cell. As he spoke, a deep crease formed between his eyebrows and he ran an agitated hand through his already mussed hair. He was completely oblivious to the women around him doing everything but stripping to try to get his attention.

She waded through the crowds, intending to apologize for ignoring him, but when she reached him he didn’t notice her, either.

It was positively demoralizing, as she was literally right in front of his face. Both of them were married to their jobs, but he could at least acknowledge her existence. She put an arm around his waist just to see if she could get his attention away from work, but he barely glanced at her. Instead walked out of her arms as he barked at someone about profit margins.

Flustered, Alexa watched him walk away before turning her attention to the rest of the lobby.

Her gaze stuck on the glass art installation. It was an explosion of color and light and fanned out over most of the lobby’s ceiling, the flower pinwheels stunning in their intensity. Customers’ phones all pointed up to capture the joyful riot of bold-colored flowers. But the pictures people took wouldn’t capture the significance of the glass sculpture, the subtle striations of color in the individual pieces, or the delicate and thoughtful way the flowers had been arranged and hung to maximize the light. So much of it would be lost in translation.

Her parents had taken her to see it as a teenager when the casino first opened. It was one of the last things they had all done as a family before her parents died.

She glanced back at Carter, but he was still on the phone.

Skirting the perimeter of the display, she found the piece she wanted. The bright magenta flower with a dark red center that fanned out to the palest of pink on the ruffled edges had been her mother’s favorite. She’d been Alexa’s best friend. She’d told her mom everything, from getting her period, to her first crush, Perry Knightly, who now sat on the Las Vegas City Council, and all the little inconsequential things that made up her life. But since her parents died, she’d had trouble opening up to people, because having to wade through the abyss of that kind of grief to get to happiness again felt insurmountable.

She blew out a frustrated breath and gave the flower a final look. It was still beautiful, but rather than grounding Alexa as it usually did, the memory of her parents made her anxious. She would never stop missing them, but she loved her life and was thankful for everything she still had. Her uncle had made her work her ass off doing every job in the casino, including scrubbing toilets, which wasn’t a pretty picture in a casino that gave alcohol away for free. She’d worked hard and was making her mark on Vegas. Life was good.

However, now Carter was leaving town, quite possibly her uncle if he was serious about retiring, and even Halcyon might be out of her life if she didn’t get her shit together. Where did that leave her? Alone in Las Vegas without her best friend and only living family? That sounded awful.

A man in faded, ripped jeans and two full sleeves of tattoos comprising vivid Mexican sugar skulls and raging flames stopped next to her to study the sculpture. His tight black T-shirt hugged imposing biceps and pecs that practically begged to be touched. Just the kind of guy she liked to have a good time with.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” she asked him, following his gaze upward.

He glanced over at her, and she felt him take her in from bare legs to ample cleavage. His deep brown eyes met hers with an appreciative twinkle.

“I’ll say,” he drawled, his voice gruff and a little rough around the edges, like his outfit.

She smiled up at him, loving the chance to flirt with someone. It was so easy. Men were so easy.

“Do you ride?” she asked, nodding to the chain on his pants and the scuffed black motorcycle boots.

He nodded. “You?”

Head tilted, she gave him a coy smile. “Of course. But not usually on the first date.”

“Set you up for that one, didn’t I?” He grinned, taking a step into her space.

The smell of leather and oil tickled her nose as she breathed him in, vaguely thinking that she preferred Carter’s fresh and spicy scent. It reminded her of laundry and money. Not that biker guy didn’t have his own appeal based on sheer muscle mass alone.

“You did,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “So are you here to gamble or just look at the art?”

His head tilted. “Would you believe me if I said just to look at the art?”

It was her turn to give him a once-over then, which he visibly enjoyed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance,” she concluded.

“I’m a tattoo artist. Sometimes I come look at this to get inspired.” He lifted up the front of his shirt to reveal a massive tattoo covering his washboard abs, the bombs of color similar to the flowers above them.

She reached out a hand and traced one of the blue shapes with a finger. “That’s...unexpected,” she murmured, marveling at the artistry of it and the myriad of colors and shapes winding over his skin like a trippy Pollock painting.

“Yeah, I’m only a hardheaded motorcycle dude like sixty percent of the time,” he joked.

She pulled her hand back and his shirt fell down, which made her nearly sigh out loud in disappointment. Abs and art like that should never be covered up.

“What about you?” he asked, taking her hand in his like a pro, tracing the same fingertips that had touched his chest. “You here to gamble?”

She didn’t necessarily feel a spark between them, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be one later. He was just the kind of distraction she needed. “I’m always ready to gamble.”

His thick arm slid around her waist then and her eyes slid closed in anticipation of a kiss that never came.

Her eyes popped open to see Carter standing there, his arms crossed and mouth knotted into a sinister frown.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Carter demanded, looking more pissed off than she could ever remember him being. Especially at her. He never got angry at her.

Biker Guy released her, but kept a hand on her back. He didn’t look scared of Carter, but he should be. Though Biker Guy’s muscles were larger, Carter had been studying jujitsu since he was a kid and could kick a lot of ass in very little time. Specifically, he’d put a football player in the hospital for grabbing her ass at a party in college once.

Alexa wasn’t exactly sure who Carter was addressing, but before she could answer, Biker Guy did it for her. “Who are you?”

Alexa stepped in front of Carter, imploring him to be cool with her eyes. “I’m busy, Carter. Can I just catch you later?”

Carter’s blue eyes darkened dangerously under the lenses of his glasses. “I don’t think so.”

Biker Guy gave Carter an assessing look. “If the lady wants to be left alone, I’d say that’s what you should do.”

Alexa sighed. As much as she was annoyed by Carter’s intrusion and high-handedness, this interaction needed to end before it turned into a scene that would get back to her uncle. That was exactly the last thing she needed at the advent of her reputation-cleanup initiative.

She held out her hand to the Biker Guy. “Mind if I see your phone?”

A corner of his mouth lifting, he reached into his back pocket and handed it over. She programmed her number into his contacts, showing him the face where she’d typed in her name as Your Best Ride. Someone sue her, he was hot.

“Call me soon,” she instructed.

“I look forward to it,” he said with one last once-over. “You take care.”

When he was gone, Alexa returned her attention to Carter, who was still standing with his arms crossed over his chest and looking murderous.

“What the hell is your problem?” she demanded.

“I was gone for all of three minutes and you’re hitting on some random guy who by the looks of it could be a serial killer?”

She doubted serial killers were lovers of rainbow glass, but she could be wrong. More importantly, that wasn’t the point at all.

“First of all, you were completely ignoring me to open up your new office in Seattle or whatever other hipster town you’re leaving me for. Secondly, I’m allowed to hit on whomever I like.”

“I am not leaving you, Alexa. I’ll just be out of town for a while.”

“An entire year,” she clarified.

“I don’t know why that’s a problem for you. I’m sure that extra from Sons of Anarchy will keep you busy.”

“Why are you so bothered by him? You were busy so I flirted with a cute guy. It’s been known to happen before.”

He ran an agitated hand through his sandy blond hair. “Because we were supposed to hang out tonight, and instead you chose to gamble for over an hour and were just about to go home with some dude.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for that,” she allowed, trying to calm him down. “Let’s go back to my house now. It’s not a big deal, Carter.”

She took a few steps toward the exit, but he remained rooted to the spot, his expression still uncharacteristically dark and moody.

“Are you going to pout all night?” she prodded. “Or are we going to salvage this evening and actually spend some time together before you leave?”

He stalked toward her, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he grasped her arm. “You’re not the one giving orders here, Alexa.”

A shiver of awareness danced across her skin, sending up a wave of goose bumps in its wake.

Carter suddenly pulled her toward the back of the casino. They passed a startled concierge as he led her into a remote stairwell with a big staff-only sign on the front, but as a contractor for Elysium’s security system he had access to all areas of the casino.

The concrete stairwell was cold and quiet, but they were in a standoff, eyes clashing in anger, confusion and denied lust. She didn’t know exactly how she’d gotten so angry so fast, but she was plenty pissed off at his attitude and the fact that he’d dragged her across the casino like she was his property. She wasn’t the one who was leaving town for some bullshit extension office that could be handled remotely or by his countless executives who would love to relocate to San Francisco. In the course of several hours the life she loved was in danger of becoming extinct and he was upset because she was flirting with some guy? He needed to check himself.

“You have no reason to be pissed right now,” she bit off.

His eyes widened in incredulity. “I don’t have a reason to be pissed off? You’re supposed to be fixing your reputation and you can’t even do it for one fucking night.”

She bristled at the censure. “You’re not my boyfriend or my dad, and I’m allowed to flirt with guys. If you’re not going to be my fiancé, then my reputation is none of your business either.”

“Why are we even here in the first place? You talk a good game of being sad that I’m leaving, but you can’t even spare a couple hours off from flirting and gambling to hang out with me. You know I hate crowds and casinos.”

“If you didn’t want to gamble, you should have spoken up and we’d have gone home. I’m not a damned mind reader.”

Her blood was raging now and she shivered. Something was different here. The tension that always simmered below the surface was so second nature it was easy to ignore, but now it was reaching a boiling point. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to shake the living daylights out of him or rip his clothes off.

Carter pulled her into his arms and her breath caught. “I’ll speak up then.”

CHAPTER FOUR

CARTER’S LIPS MET hers and the world suddenly felt like the glass flower exhibit, upside-down and chaotic. His lips were firm and confident as he threaded strong fingers through her hair and held her tightly against his solid body. The body of her friend, whom she’d lusted after for years. She’d denied herself for such a long time, only imagining what it would be like with him, but those daydreams were incredibly vivid now.

She moaned against his mouth as he took the kiss deeper, opening her up and invading her with gentle but insistent explorations. It was methodical and thorough, just like the man himself. Carter was the most intelligent and inventive person she knew and she wanted him to apply all of those skills to her while they were both naked and in her bed. Or his bed. She wasn’t picky.

His strong, steady hands drifted down her back and gripped her ass just tightly enough to let her know he meant business and drew her hard against his erection so that she was cradling him right where she wanted him. He was big, and she rocked her hips against him, wanting to feel the length of his cock against her wet heat. She arched into him, needing to be closer and feed the feverish ache between her legs, but he only gave her a fraction of what she wanted, his hands stilling her hips when she wanted nothing more than to ride him to her own release.

One of his hands caressed up her side, the rough calluses dragging against the silky fabric of her blouse as he cupped her breast in his hand. He drew a blunt thumb lightly over her beaded nipple, and she groaned in pleasure as liquid heat poured through her like the first sip of rich hot chocolate on a cold day.

His lips crashed onto hers again as they fought for dominance in the kiss, tasting each other, their tongues invading and retrenching, teasing and commanding.

She found his chest under his shirt and stroked along his abdomen, the fact that she’d done this to another man just moments ago not lost on her. Carter felt perfect under her fingers, taut and smooth and hot.

“Mine better be the last chest you touch tonight,” he growled, lifting her into his arms.

The new height put them face-to-face. The hard length of his erection finally pressed against her core and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of desire that stormed through her insides.

“You’d better make it worth my while then,” she told him, nipping at his bottom lip.

Their lips locked again, the heat rising between them like a bubbling geyser. He pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her exposed in a red silk bra. In response she scored his thick hair with her fingers and guided him to her peaked nipple, which he drew into his mouth without hesitation. Bolts of desire roared to her clit and her hips rolled against his erection, creating a maelstrom of sensation. Just a few more seconds and she could come just from some innocent dry humping like a teenager in the back seat of a car.

“Carter,” she whispered against his lips.

Tracing a thumb over the corner of her mouth, he coaxed her to let him go deeper, explore and taste all there was to discover.

“Touch me,” he murmured against her lips.

“Are you telling me what to do?” she asked, drawing back with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Now stop being so damned contrary and do it.”

“Oh, this so is not how we’re doing this,” Alexa declared, waving her pointer finger as she attempted to climb out of his hold. Orgasm be damned, she wasn’t his servant.

He let her go, but then crowded her underneath the stairwell until she was flat against the wall. Anticipation danced up her spine.

“Hey!” she snapped, pushing at his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“You think this is going to be like our friendship, where I look the other way when you try to boss me around, but Alexa, what we’re about to do isn’t friendship.”

None too gently, he spread her legs apart with his knee, pinning them there until she squirmed.

“Now touch me.”

She obliged immediately, her soft fingers gliding up his abdomen.

“Someone’s been working out,” she purred, scraping her nails over his dark nipples.

“I’ve looked like this for years.”

“I know, but this is the first time I get to touch,” she explained, grinning as her fingers brushed down his sides. “I liked your old body, too, you know. I’d take your brain in whatever package it came in.”

A weird look passed across Carter’s face for an instant before he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms to the wall. “Stay.”

Then he knelt in front of her, pushed her skirt up to her waist and revealed the smallest scrap of a black lace thong.

He licked up the inside of her thigh, spreading her legs wider as he went. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and pushed the thin piece of underwear out of his way. But then he stilled for a moment, and she thought she might die from want.

“Do it,” she commanded, clutching at his hair.

Smiling at her bossiness, he obeyed, setting his lips to her. His tongue found its way into her, leaving no inch untouched. He explored her vagina as thoroughly as if he were going to make a damn map of it afterward. She didn’t give a shit what he did as long as he kept it up. The long strokes of his tongue, the teasing brush of his thumb—he was a man on a mission, and her desired destination was pleasure.

“Carter,” she rasped, trying to catch her breath. “I want you inside me.”

Her skin was on fire, as hot as a car hood on a Vegas desert summer afternoon, unrelenting and merciless. His fingers replaced his tongue and he pumped inside her, the slick channel offering no resistance, only friction and anticipation. She squirmed underneath his ministrations, unable to control herself as his thumb and tongue worked in tandem to drive her in-fucking-sane.

“Not until I say,” he told her, biting down gently on her engorged nub as he added another finger. He pistoned furiously, his tongue laving the spot he’d bitten, soothing the bolt of electricity he’d delivered to her core.

She’d had sex before, even been ordered around, but it was different with Carter. Everything he was doing was better, more considered. His shoulders were wide, keeping her legs pinned to the wall when she would have tried to take control of the situation. The brush of his thumb on her clit was practiced and precise, the angle calculated just right to touch her where she needed to be touched the most.

The rush of pleasure hit her hard, shoving her off the edge of the cliff with wild abandon.