Werewolf in Las Vegas (20 page)

“Oh, what the hell.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why not?”

“That's the spirit. Hang on. Here we go!” Falling back onto the mattress, he hauled her down with him.

The mattress rolled under them with a sloshing sound. Then what had appeared to be dappled shadows on the comforter began to spread.

“Luke . . .”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I know. Water bed. And it's leaking.”

The combined weight of Luke and Giselle rapidly pushed water up through the quilt and into the material of his jeans and shirt. “Just slide off me,” he said, “and you won't get wet.”

“Got it.” She eased backward, but the mattress rippled with every move she made.

As the cold water oozed up around him, Luke began to laugh. They hadn't even taken pity on him and left the bed's heater on. He'd been in some ridiculous situations in his life, but this might win the prize.

“Give me your hands.” Giselle stood, feet braced on either side of his knees, and leaned forward. “I'll pull you out.”

“I don't know.” He cleared the laughter from his throat. “I'm pretty heavy. And the wetter my clothes get, the heavier I'll be.”

“I'm braced against the bed frame. Your legs are still dangling over the edge. Press your heels against the frame. We can do it.” She wiggled her fingers. “Grab hold before you get any wetter.”

“Okay.” He placed his hands in hers and shoved his heels against the bed frame. He was impressed by the strength of her grip.

“On three. One, two,
three.
” She pulled, and he heaved himself upward. She staggered backward a few steps. His feet hit the floor, and he tightened his hold on her hands. They stayed upright.

She grinned. “See? Piece of cake.”

He returned her smile. “Thanks, Wonder Woman.”

“Ah, it was mostly leverage. No big deal. So how wet are you?”

“Check it out.” He turned around.

“Wow. The back of you is soaked through. You'd better take everything off.”

“Great suggestion.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Hang on to that thought while I see what's going on with this water bed.”

“Well, I hope you know something about them, because I know zero about those things.”

“My parents used to have one.” He walked back to the bed. “Theirs developed a leak in the middle of the night. I'm sure Cynthia remembers the hullabaloo, which gave her the idea for this trick.” He folded back the soggy quilt and the wet sheets.

Just that little bit of pressure caused water to puddle on the plastic surface. As he wiped it away with a corner of the sheet, he could see a tiny pinprick. He wondered how many there were. It might not have taken many.

He continued to roll the bedding out of the way. “Would you please see if there's a plastic shower curtain in the bathroom? And if there is, would you unhook it and bring it in here? I want to strip all this off.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” As he exposed more of the mattress, he discovered a few other tiny holes. As he'd learned from the incident with his parents' bed, that would be enough to cause chaos.

When he uncovered the very middle of the bed, he found a sealed plastic bag with a piece of paper inside. “Looks like they left us a love note,” he called out to Giselle.

“What's it say?” She came back into the room with a forest-themed plastic shower curtain in her arms.

“I'm about to find out.” He wiped his hands on a dry section of sheet before unsealing the bag and taking out the paper. “
My darling brother,
” he read aloud. “
If you're reading this, I apologize for denying you and Giselle some water bed fun. But . . . gotcha, LOL!

Knowing you, and I do, you're going all paranoid about the potential damage from this stunt. Bryce and I spent hours arranging it, and more hours rigging it up, with permission from the owner, who is in possession of a sizable damage deposit. We put a layer of plastic under the bed to protect the floor. A cleaning crew will come in tomorrow and replace the water bed and frame with the original bed that goes in this cabin.

All the holes are on top, so if you don't disturb the mattress more than you already have, all should be well. Leave everything as is, if you can stand to do that, which you probably can't, but that's up to you, Bro. See you in the penthouse at 8 p.m. Smoochies, Your loving sister and future Moonbeams dancer, Cynthia.”

He glanced up. “I'll be damned.”

“She sounds as thorough and responsible as you are, Mr. Dalton.” Giselle looked at him with a bemused expression. “Still want this?” She lifted the shower curtain she'd been holding.

“I don't know.” Folding the note, he surveyed the wet bedding. It had soaked up the water that had oozed out while Bryce and Cynthia had remade the bed to set their trap. If he left it there, it would continue to absorb any other possible leakage, but since all the holes were on top, as his sister had mentioned, there wouldn't be much.

Moving all of it into the bathroom, as he'd planned, would accomplish little except to transfer the sogginess to a different location. “I guess not.” Still holding the note, he walked toward her. “But I'll put the shower curtain back up.”

“Nope.” She stepped out of reach. “I'll do it while you light the fire and start drying your clothes.”

“Oh.” Thoughts of a leaking water bed and his rebellious sister evaporated in the heat of her gaze.

She winked at him. “Don't tell me you've forgotten about all those hours we have to fill.”

His breath caught at the rich sensuality in her voice. “I got momentarily distracted.” That seemed inconceivable now, as his heart hammered and his groin tightened. “It won't happen again.”

“I doubt it will. Meet you in front of the fire.” Her hips swayed provocatively as she walked away from him. His soft groan was greeted with laughter. “Better hurry, Luke. It won't take me long to hang up this shower curtain.”

Galvanized by that thought, he headed for the living room. He tucked Cynthia's note in the pocket of his jacket. Then he realized the couch was cluttered with their jackets and the DVD.

He moved it all to a chair, because he envisioned using the couch for the activities they'd been denied on the water bed. But when he examined the couch more closely, he realized it was a futon. Bonus. Releasing the back turned it into the equivalent of a double bed. Not quite the king he would have preferred, but far better than the couch he'd planned to work with.

They'd also want to be near the fire. He set aside the coffee table and pulled the futon closer to the hearth. Next he became aware of how many windows existed in this room compared to the bedroom. If someone were to come up on the porch . . . He didn't relish putting on a show. He locked the front door and closed all the curtains.

Finally he turned his attention to the fireplace and checked the flue to be sure it was open before flicking the butane lighter to ignite the kindling. He couldn't help wondering if the logs in the fireplace, the open flue, and the handy butane lighter had been Cynthia's work, too. She used to love family vacations up in the mountains, and they'd always rented a cabin with a fireplace.

Once the flames began licking at the dry wood, he set the screen in place, got to his feet, and stripped off his damp shirt.

“You can hang your clothes on this. I thought you'd be done by now.” Giselle walked in, carrying a wooden kitchen chair. “Whoa, is that a futon?”

“If it isn't, I just broke their couch.”

“I'm sure it's a futon. Sure is dark in here, though.”

“Think you'll have trouble finding me?”

“Nope. I'll just listen for the sound of heavy breathing.”

“Very funny.” But true. Now that she was back, he was primed and ready for action. “Thanks for the chair.” He took it from her and positioned it to one side of the fireplace.

“You're welcome. When I went to find a chair, I discovered something else. If we'd followed the urgings of our stomachs instead of our hormones, we would have known that our siblings left food for us in the kitchen.”

“You're kidding.” He arranged his shirt over the back of the chair. “Do you think it's safe to eat?”

“Depends on whether you believe that her note was written in good faith, but I'd say yes. Their pranks have involved water, not food.” She handed him a piece of paper.

Luke quickly read the note.

Dearest brother,

A bucket of fried chicken and some coleslaw are in the refrigerator. There's ground coffee in a can next to the coffeepot, along with some coffee filters. I didn't leave you any booze because I don't want you drinking and driving. Not that you would, come to think of it.

Smoochies,

Your loving and talented sister,

Cynthia

She kept dinging him for his ultraresponsible behavior. Or was she paying him a compliment? He didn't really know, but she'd demonstrated that she could be just as responsible, as Giselle had said earlier.

Either on her own or with Bryce's urging, Cynthia had made sure her prank hadn't ruined anything, and she'd left food for her victims in case they chose to stay at the cabin. Knowing that, Luke was certain she'd also provided the firewood.

He started toward the chair where he'd put their jackets so he could put this note with the first one.

“I'll take it.” Giselle held out her hand. “You still have some wet clothes to get out of.”

“I swear you're getting bossier than me.” But he smiled as he handed over the note. “Just tuck it in the pocket of my jacket.” He nudged off his shoes.

“Done. Nice fire, by the way.”

“Thanks. FYI, you're free to start on your clothes anytime, too.” He reached down and pulled off his socks, which had stayed dry.

“You don't want to wrestle me out of my clothes, after all?”

“It's not as much fun if we don't have a big bed to roll around on.” He reached for the fastening of his jeans. “Besides, I'm getting impatient.”

She glanced pointedly at his crotch. “I can tell.”

“Are you gloating?” He started taking off his soggy jeans.

“Who, me?”

“Yeah, you.” Getting out of the jeans wasn't simple, but he managed it without falling down. He could have used two chairs to hold his clothes, but with some creative rearranging, he spaced them out on one. “You're gloating over the rigid condition of my sexual equipment.”

“It's a heady feeling, knowing I'm the cause of such a masterpiece.” She pulled her sweater over her head and laid it on the chair with their jackets.

“I suppose I could gloat over your stiff nipples, but somehow that's not as dramatic.” Still, he enjoyed the heck out of eyeing the significant dent they made in the white lace cups of her bra. He kept watching as she took off the bra to reveal those pert nipples set against the backdrop of her creamy, plump breasts. His cock twitched in reaction.

Apparently she noticed, because her mouth curved in a saucy smile. “A bit jumpy, aren't we?”

“That was definitely gloating.” Shoving down his briefs, he kicked them away. They could dry on the floor. “I want some gloating privileges.”

She unfastened her jeans and peeled them off. “How do you plan to get those?”

He stalked over to where she stood. “By finding out how wet you are.” He grabbed her around the waist.

She gasped. “My dear sir!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm just getting started.” He slipped his hand inside her panties, and his fingers encountered all the juicy evidence he needed. “You're as desperate for this as I am.”

She held his gaze. “Maybe more.”

With a groan, he captured her full mouth and began the amazing process of making love to Giselle Landry. All morning he'd tried to convince himself that sex with her wasn't that much different from sex with any woman. Ah, but it was.

Her soft skin excited him beyond reason. Once she lay beneath him on the futon, he nibbled, licked, and tasted her as if he'd never experienced such wonders before. “Who needs chocolate?” he murmured against her inner thigh.

Her response was a whimper and a restless movement of her hips.

“
Oh
, yeah.” Settling his mouth over her slick heat, he feasted with abandon until she bowed upward in surrender and her rapid panting turned into a joyous cry of release.

While she was still quivering from her orgasm, he changed position and eased his aching cock deep inside that welcoming channel. Sweet heaven, but this was good. Cinching himself in tight, he braced his forearms on either side of her head and looked into her eyes. The shadows created by the drawn curtains muted the emerald color of her beautiful eyes, but not the sparkle.

She took a shaky breath and smiled up at him. “Very nice.”

“Mmm.” He drew back and slid forward again, all the while searching her expression for any telltale wince of pain. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“More than okay.” She tightened around him. “Better than ever.”

“
Ah
.” He tensed. With a supreme effort, he subdued the climax that threatened to break through his control. “If you get any better, I'm a goner, and I don't want to come yet.”

She stroked his back and looked into his eyes. “Then what should I do?”

“Lie still and don't squeeze.”

That made her laugh, and her laughter caused a ripple effect that massaged his throbbing cock.

He clenched his jaw. “And don't laugh.”

“Sorry.” Except she only laughed more, all the while apologizing between bursts of merriment.

“To hell with it.” He gave up the fight and began thrusting, deep and fast.

“I like that.” She clutched his hips, her fingertips pressing down as she rose to meet him. “More of that.”

He sucked in a breath. His whole body was on fire, demanding release. He lost control and drove mindlessly into her, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge of the seething volcano about to erupt.

“Yes, oh,
yes
!” She lifted up with a jubilant cry.

The ripples of her orgasm touched off the explosion he was helpless to contain, and he surged forward, breathless with the power of the climax ripping through him. The hot pulse of his cock brought a groan of pleasure that vibrated his whole body.