Desire as reckless as a fighter jet in freefall…and just as dangerous.
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.
“From the first sentence, you’ll be drawn into the glamour and sleaze of Las Vegas and the wonderful, yet sensitive, world of Ryan and Cassandra.”
~ RT BookReviews 4½ Star TOP PICK
“Fun and sassy hotness; a quick read sure to get your jets off!”
~ Library Journal
BONUS CONTENT: Ryan and Cassandra on their honeymoon!
They stood in a relatively quiet, dim corridor. Signs pointed to the elevator at the back and to their left was a bank of payphones. Vegas was probably the only place in the world where the relics could still be easily found. All for the tourists. The clang and noise of the casino floor sounded miles away.
“What are we doing back here, Miss—” He broke off, surprised and chagrined. “I don’t even know your last name.”
Considering what he’d been imagining doing with her, he felt pretty shitty about that. She pulled away to lean against the wall—unsurprising when he’d just revealed himself as quite the jackass.
But she only smiled. “We can’t have that, not with what I’m about to do for you, Mr. Haverty.”
The low, sultry way she used his last name sent him into overdrive. With the naughty librarian skirt, the pigtails and musical voice, he was a little surprised that he hadn’t flat-out mauled her yet. He planted a hand flat against the wall beside her head. Jackass wasn’t even close. He was way worse.
“Give me your name.” He couldn’t keep the growl out of his words, even though he hoped like hell he didn’t scare her away. “I should know a little more about you, considering that I’m going to kiss the hell out of you.”
“My name is Cassandra Whitman.” Her eyelids drooped with desire. “I have a degree in art history, I’m twenty-six, and I’ve lived in Nevada all my life.”
“And you like old-fashioned garters.”
Her throat worked over a swallow. “I do.”
The rapid-fire flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat drew him. He bent his head slowly, giving her plenty of time to get away, but he needed another taste of her skin. That moment in the restaurant kitchen had been for the benefit of her ex, but Ryan craved another go. Her skin had been soft, the brush of her hair across his nose even softer.
And she was everything he’d remembered. Sweet and creamy and just a little bit spicy. His fingers clenched against the cool wall. He brushed his lips over her neck, then forced himself to pull back. “And you like dragging men into secluded corridors.”
“Only certain men. And only for certain purposes.”
He chuckled, but it was strained by his choppy breath. “Should I be afraid?”
She pushed him back to arm’s distance with a few fingertips against his chest. “I don’t think so. This is for your own benefit, after all.”
“Is that right?”
“Certainly. I’m altruistic. Practically a saint. You can’t keep your head on the cards because you keep thinking of my stockings. So…” She drew the word out. Blood surged down Ryan’s body before he even knew what she was up to.
Her hands slid down her torso. Down farther, down, from her hips to the hem of her skirt. Slim fingers curled around the dark gray material and tugged. So fucking slowly.
First came inches of sheer black, made even hotter because he knew they were backed with the seams. Then came a wide band of black lace, topped by tiny silk bows with even tinier pink rosettes in the center. The skinny straps that disappeared under her skirt were pink as well.
That was as far as she went, but it was more than enough. His chest practically shook with the force of his violent breathing. His only saving grace was that she breathed just as quickly, which pressed her breasts against the plain white of her blouse.
Ryan planted his other hand on the other side of her head, caging her in. Either that or he’d palm the creamy length of thigh peeking out between the stockings and her skirt. If he gave into that impulse, he’d be inside her as soon as he could kiss her into agreeing. They’d be booted out of the casino for indecent behavior—which would catch him hell from his CO.
He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, but it didn’t do much good. His mouth had gone as dry as the desert outside. “I’m going to kiss you now. If that’s not what you want, you better duck and run. Right now.”
She tilted her head back against the wall. “This is me, not running.”
He forced himself to lower his head slowly, just in case she panicked. He wasn’t sure how he’d get himself under control if that happened. But thank Christ she didn’t. She even surged up on her toes, meeting him halfway.
Her mouth was ten times sweeter than her skin. She tasted like crème brûlée—sweet, rich and just a hint of burnt sugar. Her lips readily opened under his. He dipped his tongue inside, first to taste the plump vulnerability of her bottom lip, then to stroke over hers.
She gave a quiet moan in the back of her throat and he hungrily drew it into his mouth. Her breath rushed hot over his cheek. Feminine hands curled into the muscles over his ribs, under his arms. He wanted to touch her but couldn’t risk removing his palms from the cool wall. If he touched her, even to cup her face, he might lose his tenuous patience.
Shit, he could be in real trouble with this woman. She had a sense of adventure that seemed woven through with naughty good humor, threatening to turn him inside out.
He tried to pull back, but even that was harder than he’d expected. He swooped back in for another kiss that was no less of a turn-on for its speed.
“Do you…?” He hesitated and tried to swallow the hot lust that hamstrung his body. He hadn’t moved this fast since he’d been an idiotic teenager living in the trailer park. He’d thought joining the Air Force and going through officer training and flight school would beat some sense into his head.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.
Pale lashes fluttered, clearing the haze from her pretty blue eyes. Her fingers trailed down his side, then danced over his belt. Nibbling on her bottom lip, which was still wet and slick from their kiss, she stroked over his cock. He hissed in a breath, hoping that was more manly than the moan he’d needed to choke down. Her touch was a fascinating mix of bold and tentative, which did nothing to calm him.
“More than anything. But…” She shifted her hand to the pocket that held their little stash of chips. “We’ve got some gambling to do.”