Las Vegas. Nevada.

“We’re not in Oregon?” Amy squeaked. Her voice was ripped away by the sonic forces of their crazy flight. “We’re in another state?”

The pilot of her new misadventure grinned. “You got it.”

God. He’d tricked her again. She’d thought they were going on an ordinary date in Portland and he’d let her believe it. He wasn’t even sorry.

“I don’t want to…” go to Vegas.

Amy cut off her protest because it was a lie. Her heart thumped with the force of her longing.

She wanted to go to Vegas. She’d always wanted to go to Vegas. Now, she was going with a crazy hot male who made the most outlandish action logical. Her world was turning upside down. And it was possible, just possible, that if she stayed around him a little longer, he would bestow upon her one more mind-blowing kiss.

Which didn’t happen to a girl like her. She’d been so surprised during their first kiss that she’d forgotten to really experience it. A mistake she would not repeat. Kisses from a male like Pyro needed to be hoarded. Meticulously collected like rare, beautiful specimens. Pinned to a board. Treasured and savored over the long, lonely nights she’d inevitably spend alone.

Especially once he came to his senses and realized he was nuts for proposing to her. He had hundreds of women. Thousands. And walking around Vega near scantily clad, gorgeous showgirls would remind him exactly how much Amy didn’t measure up.

So, she should enjoy this as long as she possibly could. Every part of it. Every little bit.

But she couldn’t help pointing out, “My highly organized life has been chaos ever since you walked into it.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome.”

They passed the borders of the scrub desert and descended on the city of impulses and urges. Sin City. Her city of dreams.

Her parents’ city of nightmares.

The last big fight she’d had with them was when her high school band had taken a performance trip to Las Vegas. Plans to stroll around the fake streets of the Paris eating a croissant, sail little gondolas through the Venetian, and watch the musical fountains cascade at the high-class Bellagio shattered with their final, unalterable refusal.

“But Las Vegas is like visiting the whole world in one city,” she’d begged. “I’ll never ask for another trip in my whole life. I swear.”

“Vegas is no place for kids,” her dad had said sternly, repeating her mother’s refusal word for word.

“But I’m almost an adult! And just because someone else makes bad choices doesn’t mean I’m going to. Please? I’ll be so responsible.”

Her parents had put both feet down and stomped. Their vocal disapproval had almost cost her bandmates the trip, too, which had isolated her even more. She quit band early to focus on college admissions.

Now, Pyro floated her over the city that symbolized every dangerous sin her parents had ever tried to protect her from. She squinted into the hot desert winds to drink in the shining gemstones. From up here, it looked innocent and pretty.

“Can you slow down?” she asked.

He did, giving her a helicopter view rather than the sonic rocket.

She picked out the dark pyramid of the Luxor, castle turrets of the Excalibur, the rollercoaster around the skyscrapers of the New York, New York, and the shining Eiffel Tower of the Paris. These hotels smooshed together like the monuments of the world had been plucked from their origins and dumped into one little patch in the middle of a vast, empty desert.

Far to the south gaped the Grand Canyon, another trip she’d never gotten to take because it was too dangerously close to the city of greed and bad choices.

Live a little.

She gripped onto her crazy hot dragon alien and lived.

He flew for the narrow silver tower at the far end of the Strip standing alone like a rocket ship to the future. As they approached, a second, smaller disc appeared above the tower in sharp relief.

Pyro aimed at the second silver disc. In the center, a small portal opened. He descended into a silver shaft. Blue and purple lights blinked along the inner walls. He landed on the bottom and a door slid open.

“Welcome to my place,” Pyro said.

She pivoted in his arms and stepped into a male fantasyland. Curved, tinted windows lined the exterior walls and displayed a stunning view of the Strip. The disc was large enough to hold a restaurant or a big party but it was jam-packed full of guy things. Classic pinball and video game machines lined the walls and a soda machine blinked next to a full bar. A truly magnificent bed rested on one half of the room, its lush gray sheets rumpled.

She let her book bag drop onto the floor. The smooth hardwood gritted with dust. Apparently, maid service didn’t extend to a detached, floating disc above their hotel.

He opened the soda machine, took out a can, and popped the tab. “What do you think?”

“It looks…” Cluttered, confident, utterly male. “…comfy.”

His brows rose, and a surprised laugh emerged as if he did not expect her to say that. Like when they’d been on their first date, she’d continued to surprise him just by being herself.

He drank half the soda, walked behind the bar, and pulled out an exotically shaped bottle. “Want a drink?”

“I better not.”

He cocked a brow. A devilish grin tempted her. “Doesn’t that mean you’d better?”

Yes, she wanted to try all the drinks. Expand her horizons, guzzle sugary syrup and burning alcohol, savor the forbidden concoctions that haunted her dreams.

But Las Vegas beckoned. Finally. Right outside!

“I want to experience Las Vegas sober,” she said.

His brow remained cocked. “You’re the only one.”

She didn’t doubt it. “I want to experience it fully. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

“You might regret it.” But he capped the bottle and offered alternate refreshments.

She accepted sparkling lemon water and perused the rest of the apartment. Her new experiences started right here, at ground zero.

One pinball machine in the center of the room, a knight emerging from an exploding castle titled Medieval Madness, had a massive fist-shaped dent in the glass spider-webbing outward to obscure the playing view.

She paused. “What happened to that one?”

“It’s my favorite.” He sipped his drink.

She laughed. “Right.”

“It is.” He offered no justification for its destruction.

Worried about what she might discover if she inquired too deeply, she moved on.

Behind a movie theater-sized TV, stairs wound around the middle column to a second floor. An empty kitchen, dining room, and giant unused fireplace lived in the family room or office. That floor looked barely lived in.

He floated up the fireman’s pole between floors, showing off his dragon skills. “Find what you’re looking for?”

“Sure.” She sipped her lemon water, one arm crossed and holding her elbow. “Just trying to get to know you. A man’s home says a lot about him.”

One brow rose. “What does my lair say about me?”

She thought of the well-used game machines, movie theater, and rumpled bed. “You like to stay entertained.”

It heightened the mystery of why he’d suddenly proposed. Amy was the opposite of entertaining. Something didn’t add up.

“And you haven’t even seen my games closet.”

“You have a games closet?”

He walked her down the stairs to an enclosed room she hadn’t noticed on her first tour. One region branched off into a palatial bath; the other led to an open closet stocked with women’s and men’s clothing. The last cabinet was filled with a thousand board games stacked four or five deep, some well-used, others still in the plastic.

She rested her hands on the top game. “Clue! I used to love this game. I was always Miss Scarlet.” The player card made her look like a seductive temptress. “How about you?”

“I’ve never played.”

“We’ll have to! You ask probing questions to unravel the mystery.”

He leaned against the door. “And what happens once you’ve unraveled the mystery?”

“You know everything about the other players and you win.”

His grin widened. “You like to know everything.”

“It’s one of the reasons I became a teacher.”

She enjoyed research but even more enjoyed revealing the research in an interesting way to students. Watching their faces light up with the ah-ha! warmed her heart and gave her a great sense of fulfillment.

Pyro brought out a bag of small lozenges and crunched. A sulfuric scent emerged from the bag and she thought she recognized them from Sard’s candy dish.

“Is that brimstone candy?” she asked.

“Yep.”

Pyro tapped his chest with his fist, grimaced as though he were feeling heartburn, and belched. A small stream of flames emerged from his mouth and abruptly winked out.

Her arms felt the heat. “Whoah! What are you doing?”

“Males can’t make fire naturally like females.” He chewed another candy and then grabbed Clue and positioned it in front of him at arm’s length. He opened his mouth.

She figured it out just in time and yanked the board game out of his hand just as a stronger flame erupted from his mouth.

“Aaah! Stop!”

The flames continued, unobstructed, to the opposite wall of the closet and burned a dark spot on the honey-colored wood.

He tossed the remainder of her sparkling lemon water on the smoking spot. It hissed and turned to hot steam.

Turning to her, he frowned. “Give me that.”

“You’re going to burn it.”

“And?”

“No!” She clutched the box to her chest. “What are you doing?”

“Preserving your memories.”

“What?”

He gestured at the box. “Destroyed, it won’t give you regrets. Your good memories are safe.”

“You can never make new memories either! And some might be even better.”

He shrugged. The sacred old memories were worth more than the chance to make new, better ones.

Wait. Did that mean he’d destroyed his favorite pinball machine to freeze his good memories in time forever?

Did he fear regrets, mistakes, and losing his good feelings so much he destroyed the things he loved before they could hurt him?

Pyro headed into the bathroom, washed his mouth out, and brushed his teeth.

She followed. “Clearly you have a short-sighted view because you don’t know what you’re missing. Let’s play right now.”

He gargled and spat. “Don’t you want to go out? Experience the town sober?”

Oh. Yes, of course she did. She put the box back. He followed.

“Don’t look so disappointed.” He hemmed her against the games, rested one arm over her head, and stroked her cheek with a silken, hot finger. “There are other ways we can pass the time.”

She heated to a thousand degrees.

He was going to kiss her again.

She sucked in a breath.

He leaned forward and once more his firm lips seduced her mouth.

Yes. She melted into his embrace.

He nibbled, sucked, teased. The dangerous, unstable brimstone flavor was barely masked by crisp, responsible wintergreen mint. And then his own male flavor overwhelmed her.

She tried to hold on to her senses, cataloging sensations and losing track as she fought to stay conscious. His scent, masculine and proud. The gentle suction of their lips meeting, finding each other, growing hungry.

This might be her last kiss. She needed to remember every detail so she could relive it, always.

His fingers cupped her cheek, and the control started to slide away. His nose brushed hers. His hard body was mere inches from her taut nipples. So close, she felt the slide of fabric between them, and it was all she could do not to moan.

A sliver of his teeth sensitized her and then came a soft thrust of his tongue.

Oh god. It was sexy. So sexy. She throbbed, coming to full awareness, her feminine core slicking with readiness.

She wanted more. So much more.

Amy wanted—

He pulled back and, in a slightly confused tone, he stroked her lower lip with the flat of his thumb. “Amy. Open your mouth to me.”

She parted her lips.

He searched her gaze, seeking an answer to a mysterious question, and then he leaned forward and deepened their kiss.

Thank you.

Heat and wetness flared across her soul. The entire world refocused on him. Pyro’s tongue filled her mouth and plumbed her depths. Desire throbbed need into her feminine center.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t think. Everything started and ended with this fiery, chaotic, gorgeous male. Pyro. Her fantasy made real. Her male.

He pulled back again, studying her as though to gauge the effects of his kiss.

How could he possibly think straight?

She rested her weight against the games case to prevent her shaking legs from dumping her on the ground.

That was the difference between them. He was casual. Experienced. A real playboy.

She was so shattered by one kiss she didn’t know if she’d ever recover.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, even though food was the furthest from her mind.

He stepped away to give her breathing space, turned, and selected a plunging teal dress from the racks. “Put this on.”

She pulled herself together and fingered the luxurious, sleek fabric. It was designed for a beautiful woman. Like a TV model. “It’ll never fit.”

“It will fit exactly.” He leaned down and grabbed her matching five-inch heels. “And these.”

She clutched the incredible heels. “I can’t walk in these.”

He straightened and grinned. “Who says we’ll be walking?”