Chapter 12
THE HOTEL TRAVIS BOOKED is spectacular.
The kind of thing I could only dream of.
Two adjoining rooms lead onto a broad balcony, dominated by a steaming spa tub built for a dozen people—our instant obsession.
There are three bedrooms in each suite, so we have ample space.
It’s only for tonight, but I’ll take it.
Travis doesn’t hang around too long; he has to go sort some things out for the show but promises to be back as soon as he can.
So I do the only thing that makes sense: I head for the hot tub, where the others are already sloshing drinks, laughter trailing through the humid air.
Within minutes, the sweet sting of alcohol ignites my pulse.
We spiral into giddy, tipsy chatter—Reagan straddling Harley’s lap like a teenager sneaking cigarettes behind the school.
Even stoic Janice has loosened up. A few hours later, Travis returns.
We’re all well on our way to being incredibly drunk and have been in and out of the hot tub all afternoon.
It’s epic.
He slides in, pulling me closer to him as his body sinks into the water.
“I see you’ve been having fun without me,” he murmurs, voice low and edged with something fierce.
A laugh bubbles from my lips. “I’m... maybe a little drunk.
” I run my hand along his jaw. He smiles—half joy, half pain—and sheds his shirt in a fluid motion.
The tub goes silent for a breath. Reagan whistles; Janice’s cheeks bloom red.
Travis moves behind me, drags me onto his lap.
His chest is solid, unyielding; I melt into him, every nerve alight at the press of his skin.
Janice’s gaze sears into us. She is plotting my accidental death right now, I’m quite sure of it.
I swallow the thought as Travis’s hand snakes beneath my bikini. My breath hitches—no, he wouldn’t dare... but he does. His thumb finds my clit, his fingertip pressing down over it, slow and deliberate. I grip his arm until I can feel his muscles twitching, flexing under my fingers.
Across the tub, Marcus decides now is the perfect time to start a conversation. “What do you do for a living again, Violet?”
My cheeks burn hotter than the steamy water. “Huh?”
He rolls his eyes. “Now he’s back, you’ve lost your brain. Work, what do you do?”
Travis leans in, his breath hot on my ear. “Answer him, baby.”
Asshole.
“Just an assistant at a law firm,” I manage to get out, teeth clenched, as Travis’s hand burrows deeper and my core coils tighter. I go rigid on his lap, trying not to make a single sound as pleasure builds up in my chest.
“That would come in handy,” Marcus nods.
“Something like that,” I grind out, praying I don’t cry out when this orgasm hits, because it’s a big one.
Something about the way we’re doing it has my nerves on edge.
Knowing everyone is right there, knowing that it’s almost sinful, is exhilarating.
The pressure builds, travelling along my spine.
Then, with one slick, insistent curl, he pushes me over the edge.
I close my eyes and cough to try to smother the shuddering in my body as the most delicious pleasure rips through me.
“You good, girl?” Reagan asks.
“Swallowed water,” I manage between fake coughs.
Travis slides his hand free. “Bed,” he growls in my ear before pushing to his feet and climbing out. I stand, legs flimsy, and climb over the side of the tub. He presses so close I can feel the hardness of him against me as he pulls a towel down and wraps it around me. I want him so badly it burns.
“Trav,” Janice’s voice comes out of nowhere, and when we turn, she is standing and climbing out of the tub too. “Can I have a word?”
He blinks. “Now?”
“It’s important.”
“I’ll be back in a second,” he promises me before turning and walking inside.
Janice follows.
I look over to Reagan, and she raises her brows.
Yeah, I hear you, sister.
Ten minutes pass, then fifteen. Surely they are done by now.
Fuck it, I’m going in. I walk in through the large doors and around the corner to the living area, where Travis is standing with his back to me, arms crossed, talking to Janice.
She looks like she has been crying, her face tear-streaked.
Janice is an attractive girl; it’s her attitude that brings her down.
She has that constant “talk to me and die” look on her face.
I step aside, listening even though I know it’s rude and I should just go and let them finish their conversation.
At first, she speaks too softly for me to make out the words—something about being blindsided, about making her look like a fool in front of “all these people.” The next words are sharper.
“You can’t just pretend I’m not here, Travis. You brought me on this trip. You said you needed me.”
“I needed you for the job,” he says, tone clipped. “You know the other part is over, Janice. We talked about it.”
Her voice lurches up. “So it meant nothing to you? You were talking about letting me move in with you, Travis. It wasn’t just a casual fling.”
My vision blurs, and I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched in the stomach.
A lump pushes up under my ribs, sharp and sickening.
He lowers his voice, but I catch every word.
“I asked you not to come to Vegas. You pushed it, you always push it. I told you it’s done.
So, you came with Marcus, knowing I couldn’t stop you. Why can’t you accept it’s over?”
“Because I am in love with you,” she trembles. “Now you parade her around like I’m garbage—”
I back away, the world tilting sideways. Her. Me. The words taste wrong in my mouth, heavy and metallic. Why didn’t he tell me he was in a relationship with her? Why did he act like he hadn’t had anyone? He lied, and that almost hurts more.
“Don’t,” Travis hisses, and for a second, it’s like he feels me behind the wall. “Stop making a scene.”
She laughs, a thin, brittle sound. “Oh, I’m making the scene? Maybe you should finger me in the hot tub next time since you love an audience so much.”
There’s a beat of complete silence. Travis has his fists clenched by his sides now.
He’s angry.
“This isn’t going to work. I’ll book you a flight. You need to go home now.”
Janice glares at him, and for a second, I see in her the exact sort of girl who would split a man in half for breaking her heart. “You always run when things get messy. Every time, Travis.”
He says nothing.
“I hope she fucks you up worse than I ever could,” Janice spits.
She shoves past, her eyes catching mine as she goes, a glare so intense I take a step back as she rushes down the hall. I suck in a breath, frozen, then close the gap to the living area where Travis stands alone, running his hands through his hair.
“You were in a relationship with Janice?” The question is out before I can pry it back. My voice is steady.
He doesn’t answer right away. He pulls both hands down his face, then looks up, mouth hard. “Yeah, but it wasn’t serious, even though she is makin’ it sound like it was. I never asked her to move in, she got...obsessed. I ended it.”
Weirdly, I believe him.
Something about Janice doesn’t sit right.
Still, he should have told me.
“How long ago did this happen?”
He hesitates. “The first day I saw you was the day I ended it with her.”
My mouth drops open. “That wasn’t that long ago, Travis!”
“Yeah, I know, but like I said, it wasn’t serious.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what she thinks.”
“I can’t fix what she thinks, Violet.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew it would end like this,” he growls, his voice low.
“Don’t get angry at me because I found out about something you chose to keep secret.”
“I kept it secret because it didn’t fuckin’ mean anything. You want me to tell you about every fuckin’ woman I’ve had my dick in?”
I flinch. “I’m going for a walk. When you’re ready not to be a fucking asshole, come find me.”
I walk away, moving down the hall where I pull on some clothes and get the hell out of there.
I find an exit, slide outside. Then I walk.
Cars swim by in surges, party-seekers shout and slosh drinks on the curb, and I wonder what it would feel like to be any of them.
I keep walking, no plan, and the air stings my skin with all the wildness of Vegas.
I reach the Strip. Chaos on chaos, and nobody cares how anyone else is feeling.
I duck into the first lobby I see, a casino that smells like burnt popcorn and Chanel, and I keep moving until my shoes stick to something sugary near a slot machine cluster.
I sit for a minute. Then I get up and buy myself a shot of bottom-shelf whiskey from a guy in a bow tie, and I don’t even flinch as it burns past my tonsils.
I take another. I find a quieter bar. I order a gin and tonic and stir it fast, watching the bubbles grab onto ice cubes and pop.
I know Travis will find me. He has my location; we shared it before we came here, just in case we lost one another.
So I know it won’t be long before he finds me.
I’m right. I’m on my third drink when he walks in, dressed in black jeans and a tight tee, his body rippling beneath the stretched fabric.
His hair is messy, and his eyes are on me, refusing to look anywhere else.
I can already hear the rumblings of people nearby, whispering his name, but he pays no attention to them. He sits on the stool next to mine. We let half a minute go by, pretending we are strangers, two walk-ons in the middle of someone else’s Vegas weekend.
“Hey,” he says.
I nod. “Hey.”
“Can we talk?”
I tilt my head. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
He faces me full-on, his expression guarded. “I acted like a dick back there. I was frustrated. She is a lot to handle, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
I don’t say anything; I just press my lips together, my heart hurting.