Perfect No Matter What: Laney & Kyle Do Vegas (The Wardham Book 5) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Other Works

  About This Book

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Acknowledgements

  Wardham Ambassadors

  About the Author

  Contents and Copyright

  PERFECT

  — NO MATTER —

  WHAT

  The Wardham Series

  a short story sequel to

  WHAT ONCE WAS PERFECT

  by

  Zoe York

  www.zoeyork.com

  BOOKS BY

  — ZOE YORK —

  THE WARDHAM SERIES

  Between Then and Now

  What Once Was Perfect

  Where Their Hearts Collide

  When They Weren’t Looking

  Beyond Love and Hate

  Perfect No Matter What

  No Time Like Forever

  PINE HARBOUR

  Love in a Small Town

  Love in a Snow Storm

  SEALS UNDONE

  Fall Out

  Fall Hard

  EMBER AND GAGE

  See Me

  Touch Me

  Visit my website and join my mailing list to be the first to hear about new books!

  PERFECT

  — NO MATTER —

  WHAT

  They keep meaning to say I do…

  Laney and Kyle lost each other once. Now they’ve found a way back together, and nothing will break them apart. But real life—two busy careers, nosy family members, and very different priorities for their oft-discussed yet still hypothetical wedding—keeps them from formalizing the forever they promised each other more than a year ago.

  A business trip for Kyle and a last-minute rearranging of Laney’s schedule provides the perfect fantasy escape to re-focus on what really matters.

  WARNING: This book starts with a blow-job and just gets dirtier from there. Because who ever said that filthy sex and sweet wedding vows weren’t compatible?

  Perfect No Matter What is a short story sequel to What Once Was Perfect, the first novel in Zoe York’s Wardham series. It can be read on its own as the culmination of a HEA romance.

  — DEDICATION —

  be happy, just the way you are

  be loved, just the way you are

  For my Diva friends in the Love Is… anthology, for whom I wrote this story.

  — ONE —

  As he had been all too often lately, Kyle woke to the quiet hum of something vibrating in his fiancée’s hand. He stiffened before he could control his reaction. It wasn’t her fault. He needed to be more understanding, but this ruined their plans for the day.

  “You’re mad.” Even through her sleepy slur, he could hear the sadness in Laney’s voice.

  He tugged her close, relishing the soft dip and swell of her waist and hip under his palm. “No, just disappointed.”

  She rolled on top of him, still holding her offending pager. “It’s this resident, he’s super needy. I’m going to call, talk him through the consult, and then I’ll come back to bed for an hour. I’ll need to go in for rounds, but I promise we’ll make it to the market today.”

  “I’m awake. You don’t need to go to the den to call him.” Kyle kissed Laney’s neck and squeezed her bottom. As if on cue, Buddy scrambled off his ridiculous dog bone pillow bed in the corner and started nosing Kyle’s foot. “Be right back.”

  Four in the morning. Jesus. He thought waking before dawn on a regular basis would be a thing of the past when he moved off the family farm. He had to go and fall in love with a surgeon. And get a dog. His little family. He loved them both, even if they interfered with a good sleep-in.

  He followed Buddy down the stairs and across the kitchen to the back slider. While the black and white mutt did his business in their small fenced yard, Kyle put coffee on and refilled the stainless steel water and kibble bowls next to the fridge.

  A scratch at the door told him his butler services were required again. Then he got a lick on the leg on the way past and the early morning business was forgiven. He grabbed a banana and left Buddy downstairs, closing the gate at the kitchen door for good measure. He had an hour with his woman. He planned to make the most of it.

  Laney lay on the bed, phone pressed to her ear and head tossed back in frustration. Kyle quietly stripped out of his shorts and rejoined her on the bed, pressing his erection into the naked hip peeking out from beneath the hem of his college swim team shirt. Now threadbare in spots, the shirt was still her favourite sleeping garment. She’d worn it in college, the first time they fell in love, and when they broke up he’d put it away. More than a decade later, he’d given it to her again and this time there would be no pause to their relationship. Too many years had passed, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

  Now they were living in the moment, together, and he couldn’t be happier. Except for the working around the clock thing, but that was part of the deal of loving Laney.

  She hung up the phone and turned into his embrace. “I need to leave in forty-seven minutes.”

  “Then I’ll make you scream for thirty and we can rush through a shower.”

  — —

  Laney didn’t get out of the hospital until almost noon, but they made it to the farmer’s market. A simple bit of togetherness was all Kyle had asked for and no matter how busy she got, she wanted to give that to him.

  They stopped at the Italian deli for olives and coppa, then the veggie stand across the way for cucumbers, tomatoes and basil. Laney grabbed a second cucumber and Kyle wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her tight to his side.

  “Is that all you’re going to eat while I’m gone?” He laughed against her hair as he nuzzled closer.

  “Well, this and a daily pick-up of Thai food, yes.” She looped her arms around his neck. “You’re only going to be away for five days. I’ll survive.”

  He stole her mouth for a quick kiss then patted her on the butt. “Let’s get you home and fed before my flight. Who knows when your next good meal will be.”

  An idea started to percolate as they made a late lunch together, Kyle making a balsamic vinaigrette while Laney chopped vegetables and a coarse baguette into similar sized cubes. She fetched a block of Pecorino cheese from the fridge and shaved thick curls onto their bowls before they dug in. “Tell me more about the conference itinerary,” she prompted, waving her fork in the air.

  “The first two days will be jam-packed, that’s the graduate student symposium. But once the full conference gets under way, I’ll probably have an afternoon or morning free each day. Willem wants to do a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon. I think I’d just be happy checking out the Strip.”

  “And you’re back on Thursday?”

  “Yeah. The conference doesn’t end until Friday, but the cheaper flight—and getting back to you—made it worthwhile.”

  “How much were flights on Sunday?” She thought she’d asked the question casually enough, but apparently not.

  He put his fork down and reached across the table to snag her hand. “Don’t.”

  “I’m just asking—”

  “No offence, sweetheart, but you’re going to get my hopes up. You won’t be able to get away. And that’s okay. It’s not like I’ve had a lifelong fantasy of a dirty weekend in Vegas with you or anything.” God, the things his grin did to her insides…and some important parts of her outsides, too.

  “Lifelong?”

  He gave her a hungry look. “Laney, you’ve starred in my
fantasies since before I knew what made Vegas…well, Vegas.”

  Was she purring out loud? “We’ll go sometime. I promise.”

  “Like we’ll get away to Mexico and get married?” His doubting tone didn’t hold any malice, which was a not-so-minor miracle. She really didn’t deserve him and his endless patience. “Besides, we’re going to New York next month for that MedEd conference.” He pushed away from the table and came around to her side. He stroked the nape of her neck for a minute before gathering her hair in a ponytail and tugging her head back so he could kiss her. He pressed deeper, as if he could show her his love and promise with his passion that the details didn’t matter.

  Didn’t matter as much as their love. But maybe she’d been relying on that promise and Kyle’s unwavering commitment a little too much of late. Just because he understood didn’t mean she couldn’t surprise him.

  Starting with the half hour before they had to leave for the airport. She looked up at the gorgeous man looming over her, her man, who’d let her walk away once but never would again. She slid out of her chair, dropping to her knees on the hardwood floor. A floor he’d laid with his bare hands—and a few power tools.

  “Have I told you today just how much I love you?” She licked her lips as she undid his belt. Beneath the dark denim of his jeans, his solid thighs flexed toward her and he grunted his appreciation for what she was offering. “I really, really do.” She dragged his zipper open, relishing the growing bulge pressing against her knuckles. She did that to him. He did everything for her, but she could bring him pleasure.

  It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

  “We’ve got time if you want to go upstairs,” he rasped, stroking his thumb over her lower lip. She swiped her tongue out and tasted the saltiness of his rough skin there. Different from the silky texture of his cock, still hidden behind red boxer briefs, but just as delicious. Every inch of Kyle’s body made her hungry for another taste.

  But she was still sore from their pre-dawn encounter. And this was just for him. She settled back on her heels and pulled her t-shirt off. She traced her fingers along the lacy edge of her bra and looked up at Kyle with her best coquettish glance. “I was thinking maybe I should jerk you off and you could come…right here.”

  “Jesus Christ, Laney.” His normally brown eyes were darker than ink and heavy with lust. Triumphant pride roared through her body, tightening her nipples and flooding her sex. Maybe this wasn’t entirely for him.

  She wriggled closer and brushed her face against the soft cotton triangle exposed by his open fly. Against her cheek, his erection strained for more significant contact. She twisted her head in his general direction but let her eyes drift shut, breathing in his subtle scent. Five days was nothing in the grand scheme of their relationship. Until he’d moved to Chicago, they’d done weeks at a time. But she’d gotten used to having him whenever she—or he—wanted. For love or lust or just a cuddle.

  “Would you rather my mouth?” she murmured, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Wet and warm…I could do that thing you like with my tongue.”

  He made a strangled sound and fisted one hand in her hair. “Hand or mouth, Lane, I don’t care which.”

  She grinned, not caring if she looked like the Cheshire cat, and wiggled her fingers under his waistband. He hissed in a breath, then let it out in a dirty, low laugh as she opened her mouth and took just his head inside. He’d been her first—for this and everything else—and in the decade they spent apart, she’d avoided oral sex. Now as she savoured the heavy weight of his cock on her tongue and breathed him in, she rejoiced that she’d come to love this act. And not just because, as his hands tightened in her hair, he so obviously enjoyed it.

  A few tentative bobs of her head provided more than enough lubricant to take him deeper, then she did, enjoying the rough slide and reluctant retreat of his hips as he set the rhythm he wanted.

  At first she just hollowed out her cheeks, sucking hard enough to keep him groaning. Pleasing pressure on the dorsal and bulbouetheral arteries. She giggled to herself because she couldn’t hold the basic anatomy knowledge at bay. Then she upped her game and did the thing with her tongue, the wiggly twist against the frenulum on the underside of the head of his cock. It started with a flutter and then grew more purposeful, teasing the stretched foreskin around his engorged and exposed crown. Side to side she twisted her head, looping her tongue around and up and back down again until he gasped. He didn’t need to tap her on the shoulder and ask her what she wanted him to do—that was one of the perks of a long-term relationship, they both knew the score. If she didn’t want him in her mouth, she’d move.

  She didn’t move. With a hum, she relaxed her jaw and let him explode on her tongue, swallowing with each pulse. Her hands had settled on his hips, and beneath her touch he was rock solid, his muscles clenched in release but also just keeping himself upright. She’d bugged him one night to tell her what his orgasms were like and she knew that right now he was hovering between pleasure and pain. She scooted out of the way and nudged him in the direction of a chair as she moved to the fridge in search of a drink.

  He snagged her wrist after she poured herself a glass of iced tea, and she drank it as she sat in his lap. He stroked her back, his face buried in the crook of her arm.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered.

  “I’m going miss THAT,” he teased. “And you. Is it weird that I feel like five days is a lot?”

  “I had the same thought. I’ve gotten used to being together at some point every day.”

  “We’ll have phone sex.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant.” She twisted to look at him more fully. He hadn’t shaved, and she danced her knuckles against his stubbled jaw. “But yes, please.”

  — TWO —

  It had taken no small amount of cajoling, bribing and out-right threatening, but by Wednesday morning Laney had cleared the rest of her week and booked Buddy into a kennel for a puppy vacation. A day of clinic on Friday had been a pain to cancel, but Kyle was worth it. Their relationship never took top priority in her life—her heart, absolutely, but never her calendar. It was time for an exception to that unfortunate rule of being a doctor. A quick call to the grad secretary in the Department of Education gave her the name of the travel agent all grant-funded travel went through, and twenty minutes later, she’d booked herself a flight to Vegas and rearranged Kyle’s return flight to match hers. On Sunday.

  When he called later that day, she was on her way to O’Hare. “Hey, baby,” she said over the car’s built-in Bluetooth.

  “On a scale of one to hello no, how would you feel about me going to a burlesque show?” Street noise flooded in around his voice.

  Vegas was two hours behind Chicago time. “At one in the afternoon?”

  He laughed. “Tonight. Willem’s at the discount ticket office right now.”

  Shit. “How late would you be? I’ve got a consult after work at DermaNorth, but I was hoping we might…”

  He lowered his voice. “Laney, are you asking me to give up mostly naked ladies for a totally naked you on the other end of the phone?”

  She giggled. “I was planning on wearing my bunny rabbit pjs and lying to you about the naked part.”

  “How can I say no to that?” He raised his voice and told Willem he had other plans. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at him passing up something that sounded like a lot of fun before she remembered that she was actually on her way to see him. And she hadn’t packed her bunny rabbit pjs.

  A tight, nervous thrill blasted through her chest as she thought about what she HAD packed. A lot of lace, a black leather corset that she’d never in a million years wear in Chicago, and the matching ring boxes that had spent the better part of a year in her lingerie drawer. They didn’t need Mexico—they had Sin City and a wide variety of twenty-four hour chapels. Guilt of a different sort reared its head as she thought of her mother and sister, both of whom would lose their minds when they
found out they’d missed her wedding. Kyle’s mother, too.

  Tough. Kyle had wanted to elope. She’d been the one to drag her feet and worry about what others would think. Not anymore. She was all in, even if she didn’t have a wedding dress. Maybe she’d get married in the corset.

  “Well, we’re going to find a cheap poker game for a couple of hours.” Kyle cleared his throat and she jerked her attention back to the conversation. “And then you and I have a date with some dirty words after dinner.”

  “Counting the hours.”

  “Are you in the car? You sound tinny.”

  She bit her lip. It was highly unusual for her to have left the hospital this early. “I’m heading to the university for a meeting.” Little white lies in the execution of a surprise were fine. “And baby? A burlesque show sounds fun. Not hell no, that’s for sure. Just not tonight, okay?”

  — —

  Kyle swirled his tumbler of cheap whiskey and stacked his chips again. Willem was chewing on his bottom lip—probably some sort of tell, or fake out, but looking at the pair of jacks in his own hand and the one on the table, Kyle didn’t really care. His brother, Ian, loved poker. Kyle liked numbers, but he didn’t get emotionally invested. And he never read his opponents. He just played the odds.

  He should have asked Laney to come with him, even if she could only get away for twenty-four hours. All week he’d seen wedding chapels advertised. Sixty bucks for a license, a few hundred for the service. Then a limo and a magnum of champagne and they’d be bonded together forever. He swallowed the last of the amber liquid in his glass. In his head, he knew it didn’t matter if they were married or not. In his heart, he wanted to brand Laney as his wife.