Stranded in Vegas was not how Gretchen had planned to spend her Christmas, but that's exactly what's happened to her and hubby Russ. Just when she thinks it couldn't get worse, a stranger trips over their luggage and sends its contents flying. It turns out their stranger, Dave, is in Vegas for the holiday and he has a suite he's willing to share.
Can this threesome turn a Christmas disaster into a Christmas delight?
Praise for Stranded
"S Michael writes scenes that literally melt the computer screen. The writing is snappy and kept me right in my seat."
-- Wendi Zwaduk
"Oh sure, nobody likes to have their plans altered, especially during the holidays, but sometimes all you can do is make the best of it and Gretchen, Russ and Dave certainly do just that!"
-- 4.5 Blue Ribbons from Chrissy, Romance Junkies
"S. Michael does a fantastic job at creating a sexy and believable story in 26 pages – I am definitely impressed!"
- 4 Stars from Bookie Nookie, The Romance Reviews
White Hot Christmas: Stranded
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 S. Michael
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Gretchen stared at the little man across the counter. "You are not fucking serious." She was not going to be stuck in fucking Las Vegas over fucking Christmas.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. All flights to the northeast are grounded. There's simply nothing we can do." He gave her an apologetic but harried look.
She looked over at Russ, tears in her eyes. "Russell!"
He slid his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close to his strong body. "Relax, baby. We'll figure something out."
"Russell, it's Vegas! It's Christmas Eve!" They should never have agreed to come out here to this stupid convention, showing off their holiday wares. Only Russ would have come up with Christmas-tree-shaped butt plugs and snowflake nipple clamps.
"Having a bird at the little man behind the counter isn't going to change that. Just breathe." His hand rubbed up and down along her back as another stupid announcement came over the airport speakers, informing them that all northern airports were closed due to inclement weather, which translated to no flights out.
Gretchen stomped her foot, and her stiletto snapped, right off, and she just burst into tears. No. No way. Not her new Maddens.
Russell wrapped around her, tugging her out of the line. "We'll get a hotel, and we'll have the most amazing holiday. Imagine the sales they must have here on Boxing Day."
"We're in Vegas! Cheesy, neon, fake..." She stumbled on her broken shoe, their luggage dragging along behind them like a woebegone dog.
"We'll make it work for us, baby. We will make it work for us."
Before she could answer, something big fell over their luggage.
"Oh, fuck," said the something.
She squeaked and almost fell, but Russ's muscular arms wrapped around her, supported her.
"Damn, I'm sorry." The most beautiful guy, aside from her Russ of course, stood up and started wiping himself off. "I didn't see your luggage."
She waved her hand at him, trying so hard not to just have a meltdown. God, go away.
"It's okay, man." Russ propped her up against a wall and went to right their luggage.
"Are you sure?" Tripping Man peered at her. "You okay, miss?"
"I'm fine." Her eyes closed as her suitcase popped open and dildos went rolling across the floor. "Just kill me now."
The guy made a noise and Russ, the asshat, nearly choked trying to swallow his laughter. Tripping Man began to laugh.
She snapped the heel off her other shoe and growled. "I'm going to... Fuck."
She headed right out of ticketing and out to the festively lit cabstand. There had to be a hotel on the Strip somewhere she could drink at.
She was still waiting for a fucking cab to show up ten minutes later -- how could there not be one there? -- when Russ and the guy came out, pulling the now sedately closed luggage behind them.
"Baby, this is Dave." Russ put his arm around her shoulders. "Dave, this is Gretchen."
Dave held his hand out to her.
"Hey." Thank God for waterproof mascara.
"Russ was telling me you guys are in the same boat as me. In Vegas for Christmas."
"Yeah. Yeah, we are." She was going to cry again, which was stupid, but it was Christmas.
"Dave here has a hotel room. He's willing to share, babe."
"There's got to still be rooms here, right?" Christmas Eve with a stranger?
"We can try if you want to, baby. Let's go get food and see, yeah?" Russ wrapped around her, held her, and Dave just lifted one hand and a cab stopped right in front of them. This was no fair.
"It's the Mandalay Bay." Dave gave her a warm smile. "Best hotel on the strip."
She felt herself blush. "I bet the owner of the Bellagio would argue."
Russ's swat to her ass was sweet, sharp. "Be nice, Kitten."
Dave laughed, and held the door to the cab open for her. "They're fully booked. I checked."
She slid in. How on Earth? It was Christmas, for God's sake. Russ slid in beside her on the left, David on the right.
"There's like a million people stranded here." David told the cabbie where to go. "The whole northern half of the country is snowed in. I got in yesterday, but my luggage didn't. I came down to pick it up but apparently it's still stuck in Chicago or something."
"Yeah. At least we're stranded here together, huh, Kitten?" Russ's voice was low, soft, teasing, and she nudged him with her shoulder. He only called her that when they were playing.
"I can't imagine Christmas without you, Russ."
"Sweet." Dave grinned at Russ, the look a little wistful.
She cuddled into her man. "Are you here with someone or missing someone back home?"
"I wish. Either option would be better than single. Especially this time of year..."
"Oh." Suddenly she felt like the worst sort of bitch. At least she had her Russell, right here. "I'm sorry." She reached out, squeezed Dave's hand.
His hand turned, fingers curling with hers. "I have a suite. There's more than enough room, and then none of us have to be alone on Christmas morning." His fingers touched the center of her hand, tickling her palm, and it was like electricity hit her, in the pit of her stomach.
"Tell him yes, Kitten." Russ's breath tickled her ear, brushed her hair