Suddenly, I was jerked back and tossed onto the sofa. “Get the panties off,” he ordered, and I shoved them down while he covered himself with a condom.

“Good girl. Now, get on your knees and turn around,” he said, moving toward me.

I turned around and leaned against the back of the sofa on my knees. I stuck my bottom up toward him, knowing that was what he wanted, and I expected the slap that came after it.

“Shake that ass at me again, and I’ll fuck it,” he growled. Then, in one thrust, he was buried deep inside me. His hot breath was on my neck. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ears. “Sweet ass likes to tease me,” he said, as he began fucking me.

He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed almost to the point of pain and moved into me again and again. Harder each time. I wanted to cry for him to stop, but instead, I began begging for more.

“If it hurts, cry for me.” His dark voice made the whole scene more erotic, and I cried out from the oncoming orgasm his force was producing.

“I’m going to come.” I panted, knowing the only tears he would see were ones that came from pure ecstasy.

“Then do it. Now!”

And I did.

My body shook, and his hands wrapped around my neck as he squeezed until my head was light and my pleasure had gone to new heights. I wasn’t sure I’d live through this. It was more than humans could bear. I was positive of it. The bad news was that this was a dream, and I’d wake up having not experienced it at all.

Tears came then, just before his body pulled me to him. He whispered words that were sweet, but I was too tired to understand them.

Vegas was always the same. Every time I came.

Yes, I was in Vegas. Don’t judge me.

I hadn’t told Rush the truth, either. When I left town, I always told him where I was going. This time, I didn’t want to explain that I was going to find a guy who was haunting my dreams and I’d left him in Vegas with his pregnant showgirl girlfriend but whatever. Yeah . . . I wasn’t telling Rush that.

I didn’t need to be told that this was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea, but I was looking for closure. This morning, I had woken up to a bruise on my left shoulder and a very tender vagina. That couldn’t happen from a dream, so I was losing my mind. That was the only other explanation. This man was making me lose it.

I had to find him. Get over him and move the hell on. End these insane dreams where I was apparently beating the shit out of myself while sleeping.

So my big brother thought I was headed to Barcelona with friends for a couple of weeks. That was believable. I loved Spain. He hadn’t even questioned it. Just told me to keep in touch so he’d know I was safe.

My goal was to find Gannon, get my closure, and get the hell out of Vegas. The longer I stayed here, the harder this would be. Everything reminded me of him. It wasn’t bad memories, either. They were good memories. Things I wanted more of.

Things I couldn’t have. Well, maybe I could, but the fact that he had a woman pregnant kind of put a damper on things. But then, he didn’t love her, obviously, and people make mistakes.

Shaking my head to stop my thoughts from going in that direction, I finished unpacking my clothes and went to the minibar to get a bottle of water. Flying always dehydrated me. I would drink sixteen ounces while relaxing on the L-shaped sofa and plotting my next move. Because now that I was here, I wasn’t sure how to find him.

Staying at the Bellagio was my only plan so far. It wasn’t like Gannon lived at the Bellagio. He could very likely be back in whatever state he lived in, and I might not find him at all. My first idea was to go to every show with showgirls at the Bellagio and at Caesars until I found the girl. That sounded insane, but how else would I find her? And she was my only way to find him. I knew she lived here and worked here. Which gave me hope that Gannon must be here a lot, to have knocked up a showgirl. His construction company did build casinos, after all. That made sense for him being here full-time or for long stints.

This was crazy. I was crazy. But then, that’s why I had come to Vegas.

I considered going to the Hyde. That was where I’d met him, after all. But he’d said he didn’t much like clubs, and he’d just gone in there that night. He wouldn’t be there again. Finding the woman was the best idea. What I would ask her once I found her, I hadn’t worked through just yet.

The black minidress I was wearing brought attention to my legs, and I always liked the way my pale skin and red hair looked against the midnight color. I was confident and ready to do this. There was a show at seven tonight here at the Bellagio that I was going to see. I had a front-row seat so I could see the faces clearly, and I was as nervous as I was ready. I had come this far; I had to finish this.

My planning and strategizing were all for nothing, however. When I stepped out of the elevator, there he stood looking at me. Almost as if he had expected to find me. The shock that I knew was clearly on my face wasn’t on his. It was as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Nan,” he said, with a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. He was pleased, but there was a sense of danger in that look that I knew from my dreams.

My heart picked up its pace. “Gannon,” I replied, almost unsure if I was imagining this and my crazy had just found a new level.

“I’m glad you came back.” His pleased smile was almost smug now. Damn him.

“It wasn’t for you,” I snapped, in the haughtiest tone I could manage at the moment.