Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 Read Free Page A

didn’t relish the idea of flaming out in the first few minutes.
    “Hey, Princess,” he called, jogging to catch up. “Truce?”
    She glared at him. “Whatever. Just take this seriously, would ya, Mike? What we do here is important.”
    “Understood, Captain Girardi. I am yours to mold.”
    “Cut the crap.” The hangar parking lot was quiet as she glanced around. “Where’s your ride?”
    Mike nodded toward his bike. “The BMW over there by the hot pink toy. Yours?”
    “The hot pink toy.”
    He should’ve known. The Ducati street bike had Leah written all over it—sleek and flashy. But the custom pink paint job made it a chick’s bike. “What’s the engine on that thing? Maybe six hundred ccs?”
    “Almost eight fifty, thank you very much. A hundred and forty horsepower.”
    “Huh.”
    She sighed. “Fine. I’ll bite. Yours?”
    “It’s the S1000RR. A hundred and ninety five horsepower.”
    “Good for you, Strap Happy. Feel better? You’ve got the bigger dick.”
    “Sure as hell hope so.”
    “Didn’t you used to be Zoomy or Speedy or some other stupid call sign? What’s the real deal with the new one?”
    God, she looked sexy. Forget the sweaty flight suit and the shellacked hair. The pop of her hip against the seat of her bike made him remember how her body had felt under his hands. Toned but soft. Strong but lush in all the right places. She’d tasted amazing. Other lovers had trickled across his history in the years since, yet he still recalled her salty sweetness—so uniquely Leah. Not even one-hundred-twenty-proof moonshine hit his brain faster.
    But they’d never been quite right for each other. Something hadn’t clicked. Mike had a good idea of what that was, considering what he’d since learned about his own needs.
    He shoved his helmet on his head, doing up the latch with a smile. “Wouldn’t you just like to know, huh?”
    “Yeah, I would. Because I know for a fact that whips and chains weren’t your deal.”
    “You had three months with me, Leah. You didn’t learn everything.”
    “Right,” she said, dragging out the word. She grabbed her helmet too, which matched her bike’s hot pink. “And I’m sure all the good stuff was there in your foot locker. Just never got around to it, eh?”
    Mike indulged in an even broader smile. She was hot shit, no doubt. But on this topic she had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Hell, he hadn’t had a clue either. Not back then. Four months under the tutelage of a very patient, very exacting mistress had revealed sides of himself that had always lurked in shadow.
    Leah jumped on her bike and fired up its sweet little engine. Olive drab pulled snug over her ass. The quasi hard-on he’d been sporting gave a twitch when he imagined her straddling him that way.
    “I thought you were going to show me the clinic,” he shouted.
    “It’s on the way out. Think you can keep up?”
    Mike threw a leg over his bike, enjoying how she watched. A playful sizzle lit her wide baby-doll eyes. He kicked his S1000RR to life. Buzzing vibrations shook up through his spine. For a moment they just sat there in the parking lot, gunning the engines, showing off. A laugh started up in his chest. He glanced over and found that same daredevil laughter shaping Leah’s crooked lips into a full-on grin.
    She spun the Ducati in a hard arc. The back tire squealed. A jolt of fire shot through Mike’s bones as he tore out after her. The wind against his face was pure energy. Pilots were adrenaline junkies down to the cellular level, and he was no exception. Nothing topped speed.
    Other than the idea of Leah holding his riding crop.
    What he’d told Major Haverty about his revised call sign was true. Only the crop hadn’t been to use on a woman. Used by a woman was so much hotter. Maybe if he were very good and very patient…
    Skidding to a stop outside another innocuous base building, she gave it a flippant wave. “And there’s the clinic,” she