Free Bare Knuckle: Vegas Top Guns, Book 5 by Katie Porter

She couldn’t stop a moan that built in her gut, pulsing, pushing out of her throat. It got stronger, louder. She couldn’t hold it back. Eric’s fingers were as quick as his hips.
    “Eyes open now. Look at them all here for you. Every flash is another man who wants a piece of you. That guy with his hand down his pants? He’s fucking his hand. He doesn’t care who sees. He’s gonna come, Trish. He’s gonna blow his wad for my showgirl. He’s waiting for you to look. For you to come.”
    A scream ripped her open. She shrieked as her climax erased her mind, wiped her memory. All pretense gone. White-hot pleasure made her convulse, doubling over, squeezing his hand between her thighs. The waves kept coming and coming as the lights flared behind her closed eyes.
    “And I’ll watch you too,” he growled.
    It was the last thing he said as a solid stream of sexy-as-fuck grunts accentuated his desperation. His body seized. Every muscle locked, but he vibrated with a pulsing energy that poured into her. One more devastating wave of release left her sprawled on the bed in a used-up heap. Eric crashed beside her, an arm wrapped low around her waist.
    “So good,” she gasped.
    “ Just good?” Laughter shaded his voice. “Again?”
    “Holy-damn good?”
    “Better.”
    A minute later, his breathing beginning to steady, Eric disengaged. Trish turned to see what he was doing. He’d returned to his camera and shut everything down. All the light that remained was a soft blue-tinted glow from a bulb way up on the high ceiling, like twilight brought indoors.
    Struggling onto her hands and knees wasn’t going to work. She was exhausted in the wake of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. He’d played her so well that it was still scary. But whoa, the payoff.
    Eric helped her. Tender hands now—strong, but with another glimpse of that out-of-place gentleness. “C’mon, Trish. Up you go.”
    Ice layered over her skin. “Does that mean I should call for a taxi?”
    He stilled too. “Do you want to?”
    “One-night stand, right?”
    She knelt on the bed, facing where he’d become a human wall. That tattoo was so damn beautiful. Finding her courage, she looked up to meet his gaze. But she didn’t quite make it—focused instead on his lovely mouth. She shrugged, trying to make it no big deal.
    He chuckled softly as he led her to the head of the bed, tucked her into the sheets, curled her around his barrel chest and solid legs. She couldn’t help stealing a taste with a flick of her tongue.
    “Stay. We can fuck before breakfast. And after.”
    She grinned against his hot skin. “You’re back to you.”
    “Hm?”
    “After blowing my mind with all those words, you’re back to a couple syllables at a time.”
    He kissed the top of her head. Thick arms held her close in the near darkness. “Now you know. I save them up.”
     
     
    Trish woke up alone, but she heard Eric rattling around the kitchen. For a moment she stared at the ceiling. Sunlight from industrial second-story windows filled the open space. She wondered how she’d managed to sleep so long with that brightness streaming in.
    Oh, maybe cuz I got nailed like whoa and how?
    She was sore all over. After cheese fries, Jack Daniels and rigorous exercise of multiple varieties, she was seriously dehydrated. Her head spun in a nauseating fog. She hadn’t consumed that much sodium in one sitting in years. Turning to check the official time—something more specific than “the morning after”—she found an unexpected surprise on the bedside table.
    A twenty-four-ounce bottle of water. A bottle of aspirin. And a spare toothbrush. A neatly folded midnight-blue terrycloth robe lay at the end of the bed.
    She smiled and smushed her face into the pillow he’d slept on, inhaling deeply. A laugh wiggled out of her body.
    Best night she’d had in forever.
    We can fuck before breakfast.
    His words had been so matter-of-fact. With most guys she’d have left at