She rolled her eyes and swatted at my chest. “Not that, you idiot. But we’re off the clock now. Why not? Let’s fly to Vegas.”
I stared at her, trying to work out if she was joking, but she just nodded, grinning at me like she’d already booked the damn flights in her head.
“Well,” I said slowly, “I was gonna come back to London with you after the press stuff…but if my baby wants Vegas, she gets Vegas.”
Her laugh burst out, and before she could get away, I yanked the covers over both of us and bit down gently on her shoulder. She squealed, trying to squirm away, and I pulled her tighter,already imagining what kind of trouble we could find under the neon lights.
By midnight, we were boarding a red-eye with our suitcases, matching grins, and absolutely no fucking plan whatsoever.
Vegas and bad decisions, just like she’d asked for.
Chapter 46
Tyler
Five hourson a red-eye from New York, no sleep, but I was still wired like I’d just walked off court. Vegas will do that to you. Or maybe it was the sight of her tucked into me in the back of the blacked-out SUV that picked us up from the airport. She didn’t take her eyes off the window for a second, just tilted her chin toward the strip as if every neon light was switched on for her.
I’d gone all out and managed to bag a last-minute Bellagio suite. The champagne was waiting on ice. If we were gonna make bad decisions, we were gonna make thebestbad decisions.
The grin didn’t leave her face through check-in. “Your suite is on the top floor, Mr. Reed. Enjoy your stay.” If only the concierge knew what kind of chaos he’d just enabled.
Orla kept stealing glances at me as we crossed the lobby, like she was trying to figure out whether this was real or some elaborate prank. When the private elevator doors slid shut behind us, she let out a low whistle.
“Top floor, huh? Trying to impress me?”
“Trying?” I murmured. “Baby, I came to win.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was dressed in grey sweats and the tightest little tee that hugged her breasts immaculately. All I could thinkabout was getting her into that suite. Doing a lot of ‘celebrating’ that had nothing to do with a scoreboard.
Her cheeks flushed in my favourite shade on her. When the lift chimed open, we stepped into a hallway so quiet it felt sealed off from the rest of Vegas. She hesitated for half a second, nerves and excitement fizzing behind her eyes.
“Tyler… this is insane.”
I unlocked the door.
“Wait till you see inside.”
The suite lit up as we stepped through.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. Floor to ceiling windows, the Vegas skyline like a glittering ocean. “Tyler…this is…”
I popped the cork before she could finish, poured us each a glass, handed hers over. “Well I’ve never had anyone I wanted to spoil before,” I said, raising the cut glass toward her. “So…to bad decisions.”
She clinked my glass, that dangerous little smile curving her mouth, the one that always seemed to slip out right before something happened that I’d want burned into my memory forever. “To bad decisions.” She echoed.
We kicked off our shoes and collapsed onto the bed, champagne fizzing, city lights flickering against the walls. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t the tennis player and she wasn’t the physio. We were just…us.
“What time is it even?” she asked, stretching out beside me.
I checked my phone. “One a.m, apparently.”
She laughed. “So, do we sleep or go out? How does Vegas even work?”
I grinned, propping myself up on my elbow. “I’ll be honest, I’m pretty fucking tired, so how about we sleep, then we fuck, then we eat, then we fuck some more before we head out to cause chaos?”
She shook her head, smiling. “You’re terrible, but I like your plan.” I liked it too.
I don’t know what time it was when we finally crashed, but six hours later I woke up starving. For food, sure, but mostly for her. I ordered room service while she made her way into the bathroom.
If she thought she was going to shower alone, she had another thing coming.
