A Match Made in Vegas Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement

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I know. It's selfish.

But everyone is a little selfish. And I'm past it. Mostly. I'm happy for them. Really.

Especially now that I'm leaving. I'm glad they have each other. They'll do better without me.

I just—

I don't love the idea they don't need me anymore.

I crave that freedom from everyone's expectations, but I don't want to let go either.

Hypocrisy. Or the human condition. Or both.

Or maybe just how I grew up.

Like our father, Damon is a recovering addict. When we were young, people looked at us with concern, like they weren't sure if we could hold ourselves together.

They were right.

He couldn't.

He started drinking too much when I was thirteen. The chaos was too much, but by then, I knew how to deal with it. I knew how to turn off my emotions and find stability in the only place I could: alone, in my room, pouring all my attention into my work.

Homework, at first. Then homework and track. Then med school and running. I don't run as much as I did, but I still put in twenty miles a week. The stress relief keeps me sane. The routine too.

Because that's the other thing I learned, the only way to find stability is to create it.

All those years of Damon drinking too much, then working at it, then falling apart again—

Even though he's okay now, even though I trust he's okay now—

I don't know how to let go. Not on my own. And not with someone else.

That's the real reason I'm attracted to Jackson. The guy is holding the world together. He could hold me together for a while.

It would feel good to surrender to that, to let someone take care of me for once.

But I can't.

I don't know how.

Chapter Five

Daphne

Damon and Cassie discuss music until we stop in Baker. We grab drinks and use the bathroom at a convenience store, then Jackson and Damon switch driving duty, and we head back onto the desert highway.

For a while, Cassie and I talk about the sci-fi show we're watching together. Eventually, the conversation fades into the music (Damon's pick, which means grunge, which, ugh). I lose myself in the sights of the desert. Sand and cacti and blue skies until the city comes into view.

An oasis in the middle of nowhere. All strange shapes and colors. The gold triad of the Mandalay Bay (our hotel), the black pyramid Luxor, the strange castle of the Excalibur, and the fake NYC, Eiffel Tower, and Space Needle.

We park at the hotel, wheel our stuff to the front desk, check in to our rooms.

Cassie smiles as she waves the key to me. It's pure I can't wait to hang out with my bestie and I want to grab on to that so badly.

I really do.

But the words threaten to spill from my tongue. I'm leaving for New York.

I don't know how to talk to her without telling her—

I'm terrified to tell her.

So I do something really, really stupid.

I take her key, and I hand it to my brother. "Why don't you two room together?"

Cassie looks at me curiously.

Damon too.

"I'm going to have to run to Jackson's room when you two celebrate alone, so why don't we get ahead of it, huh?" I shrug as if I don't mind. As if I am only thinking logically and not hiding from this news. "Go. Have your way with each other now. I'll see you at dinner."

"Are you sure?" Cass asks.

"Go. So we have time to hang out tonight." I force a smile. I hope it says I'm so evolved I don't even care if you fuck my brother, whatever, but I'm not sure it does.

"We can hold off for two days," Damon says.

I shoot them a please look.

Cassie bites her lip. "She's right. We can't."

"You can't," he says.

"See. It's starting. Go. Enjoy yourselves. Get lost." I grab my suitcase, wave goodbye, and wheel right to Jackson.

Without a word, he follows me out of the lobby.

He shoots me a funny look, but he doesn't object to the change of rooms.

Because he wants to fuck me.

Or because he thinks so little of fucking me, it doesn't even occur to him.

One of the two.

I'm ten minutes into avoiding alone time with my best friend, and I'm already onto my first hurdle.

For some reason, Jackson's hotel suite is decorated for a couple.

He must have booked the room with his ex-girlfriend. This means Damon volunteered to room with him, instead of his girlfriend, last minute.

A pity invite.

Or something like it.

But that's not my primary concern at the moment. No. The path of deep red rose petals obscures all other problems.

The flowery line leads straight to the bedroom, the one with a four-poster bed, with visible under-the-bed restraints and a giant red gift basket on top of the gold comforter.

An adult gift basket, complete with champagne, lube, furry handcuffs, and chocolate-flavored condoms.

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