by Frankie Love
Ace clears his throat, and I know if I don’t get her the hell out of here, Ace is gonna be mad as hell. And while he wouldn’t throw a punch at Ashley, he’ll gladly throw her ass out of his club and onto the curb, giving the middle finger to the music career that she has here.
But I don’t need him to fight my battles.
“I do have plans.” I look around at the couples, hands entwined, and I know just how to piss Ashley off more than anything. She wants to talk trash about my boys and their women? Well, she has another fucking thing coming. “I have a date.”
She pauses, and I know this has caught her off guard. No doubt she’s assuming I’m coming back to her, just like I’ve done every time we’ve broken up over the past twelve months. But she’s wrong. We’re never, ever getting back together.
Crossing her arms, she looks me up and down, trying to call my bluff. “Who’s your date, Jack?”
I cough, hoping this girl sitting beside me is willing to play along. The rest of the party is coupled up, and the truth is I don’t hang out with any other women in Vegas besides the ones right here.
“Tess,” I tell Ashley. Then, reaching for Tess’s knee, I squeeze it. “Tess and I have plans tonight.”
Ashley’s jaw almost falls to floor. I may not have known if she wanted to fight or flee tonight, but I sure as hell know she didn’t expect me to be going out with a cocktail waitress after dating her.
Good. It’s about fucking time I left her speechless.
“Tess,” I say, standing, reaching out a hand to help her up. “You ready?”
Tess looks up at me. Please play along, I silently beg.
She smiles. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
A few minutes later, we’ve crossed the casino floor of Spades Royalle and slid ourselves into a sleek, black limousine. She sits across from me.
The driver speaks through the lowered partition. “Where to?”
I look at Tess, whose clear eyes are as wide as an owl’s. We haven’t spoken a word since I took her hand in mine and practically ran away from the crowd at the whiskey bar. I hadn’t realized paparazzi had already spotted Ashely and me, and a group of people had stopped to watch us fight.
“Are you okay?” I run my hands through my hair. “I feel like shit for dragging you into this.”
Tess bites her bottom lip, then shrugs, a smile spreading across her lips. “I’m good. I just hate it when the paparazzi show up.”
“Let me make this up to you,” I tell her. “Then you won’t think I’m such a dick.”
“I don’t think you’re a dick,” she says vehemently. “I think ... never mind.”
I cock my head toward her. Our knees touch. “Tell me, what do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, waving her hands in front of her face. “But you can make it up to me. I just got off work and am literally starving.”
I grin; I like a girl who admits to having an appetite. “You like tacos?”
“I love tacos.”
“Perfect.” I lean toward the driver. “244 West Cascade.”
“You got it,” he says, raising the partition.
I roll my head from side to side, exhausted by this city only five hours into my return.
“You okay?” Tess asks.
I run my hand over my jaw, taking her in. I kind of feel like shit that I’ve never paid her much attention. There have been a handful of times she and I have been at dinner with the crew and sat side-by-side—and, hell, we spent a week walking the fucking English countryside for Landon and Claire. But I’ve never really looked at her as anything besides Emmy and Claire’s friend.
I’m not a player like the other guys. I like plenty of adventure in the bedroom, but I’ve always been a one-woman man.
No matter how much Ashley wants to complain about me, one thing she can never say is that I was unfaithful.
Which means I’ve never given Tess my full attention.
But now? Damn. I can’t seem to look away.
She isn’t classically beautiful, with long limbs and blonde hair. Tess is average by all standards measured in the Vegas celebrity world. A thin girl, who doesn’t come off as a seductress with moves and experience.
No, Tess looks wholesome, pure. Refreshing in a way that feels free and fucking alive. Her eyes are bright, the clearest blue I’ve ever seen. Her lips are covered in subtle pink lip gloss that makes her mouth look full and unkissed … and, damn, my cock is twitching in my pants just thinking about those lips and where they might go.
It’s been too damn long since I’ve had a fling, a single night to remember, a single night letting me forget.
And every damn time she leans forward to speak, in that flowy top she’s in, I can see straight down the front of it, past her tits, all the way to her tummy. The fact that she isn’t wearing a bra gets me hard every time I glimpse those C-cups. They’re fucking taunting me with their perfectly-sized tight nipples.
The thing is, she doesn’t seem to have a clue how attractive a woman who is willing to go with the flow, without agenda, is in a town like this. Across from me in the limo, she looks at me with sincerity.
I decide then and there that tonight I’m giving myself a fucking break. I’m gonna take this girl to dinner, and then she and I can have the one night stand I deserve.
And, damn, she deserves it too. She’s a nice girl who works hard and needs a night with me to remember that we’re young and alive and can fucking do whatever the hell we want.
She’s fucking gorgeous, and tonight I’m giving her a night she’ll never forget.
TESS
It isn’t a secret that I’ve wanted to jump Jack’s bones for the past four months. Pretty much starting the moment I met him.
Because, well, those eyes alone. But then there’s the soulful way he takes in a room, a situation. He may have taken a stand and told Ashley off tonight by pretending he and I were a thing ... but I could tell by the way he took a sidelong glance at his buddies, that the real reason he blew her off was because he didn’t want his friends to have to fight his battles.
And the fact that he wouldn’t put up with anyone putting any of us down? Well, I’ve never been up close and personal with a man like that. The guys back home saw me as a piece of meat—an indentured servant, really. But Jack doesn’t see anyone like that.
There’s no doubt in my mind that everyone left at the whiskey bar is talking about my massive hard-on for Jack. And, whatever, I won’t be mad at Emmy and Claire for letting the cat out of the bag ... I mean, anyone could have taken one look at my face and known I had exactly zero hesitation about walking through the casino with my hand in his.
“So, Tess,” he says, as his eyes rake over my body. “Since we told Ashley we were going out, we might as well treat ourselves to a date.”
“A date?” I gulp.
This is actually happening.
I legit wish I’d showered after my shift, and shaved. Dammit. I mean, okay, maybe it’s a tad bit presumptuous to think Jack would be getting his eyes or hands anywhere near the must-shave zone ... but whatever. Being in this inner circle of the Vegas elite has resulted in plenty of my fantasies coming true. Why not my sexual one, too?
Jack shrugs. “What, does a date with me sound bad? Fuck, am I that out of touch with reality?”
I shake my head. “A date with you does not sound bad. It sounds ... wonderful. Just, well, first of all, you have to know I’ve had a massive crush on you since we met? Right?”
He laughs. “Uh, sorry, Tess. I live in my head most of the time.”
I feel my cheeks flush. “Then that was some definite oversharing on my part.”
“I like it. It’s refreshing.”
“Why? Ashley seemed to have no problem telling you like it is, or was.”
Jack stretches out his legs in the limo, his feet propping on the cushion beside me. “Ashley’s a manipulator. She wanted everyone to see us, so long as we used a good filter.”
I grimace, not really into babe-bashing. “Seems a little intense to say she tried to make everything perfect. I mean, I remember at Landon and Claire’s wedding she didn’t even bring a couture dress for the reception, which I found to be very tasteful, to not take away from Claire’s day. Though, to be honest, it was sort of a disappointment. She always looks like she just stepped off a runway.”
Jack smirks. “Yeah, but she didn’t pack a designer gown because she thought the whole thing was beneath her, and she was pissed the whole time because I canceled our trip to Barbados to attend the ceremony.”
I twist my lips, feeling awkward that we keep talking about his ex-girlfriend.
“Maybe let’s not talk about her,” I suggest. “I mean, if you need to like, hash it out, I’m here for you. But it might be more fun to sort of pretend that she doesn’t exist for one little night? If it causes you stress?”
He nods curtly. “You are so right.” He grabs the bottle of champagne that is sitting on ice on the minibar, and pops the cork. Champagne overflows, and we laugh as the sticky sweetness covers the carpeted floor of the limo. He fills two champagne flutes with the bubbly.
Looking at me with an unconcealed smile, he says, “Let’s finish that toast we never got to finish at the whiskey bar.”
We raise our glasses.
“To tonight,” he says with his voice low and gravelly, as if preparing for an epic journey we are embarking on together. As if our toast is somehow sealing this night as some special, untouchable escape from real life.
“To tonight,” I repeat in a whisper, clinking my glass against his.
The restaurant he takes me to is as far off the strip as we can get. It’s nothing like the glitz and glam of the casinos uptown. Jack holds the door for me, and a rush of authentic Mexican flavors greet us.
A waitress leads us through the small, crowed restaurant. its bright blue walls covered in Mexican artwork. Paper banners with cut-outs of sugar skulls wave in the open-air breeze as she takes us to a relaxed outdoor patio complete with twinkly lights and mariachi music.
Once we’re seated and Jack’s ordered us jalapeño margaritas, he leans across the picnic table, his eyes bright in the candlelit.
“Is this okay? It’s nothing fancy.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Good. It’s my favorite. No one ever recognizes me here. McQueen told me about it. They have a food truck that used to hang out near the gym where we worked out before all that shit went down.”
“Honestly, the whole Vegas night life is a little much for me. It’s nice to step away from the strip.”
“Really?” Jack takes one of the menus on the table and opens it. “I always got the impression you were really into the scene.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, because I never feel like I fit into that world, the one I live in. The one I work so hard at not sticking out in.
“I don’t know, I guess you mention celebrities a lot, name drop who you see at the casino ... and I swear I’ve seen you reading those gossip magazines. On the airplane and stuff?”
“I can see that, I guess.” Shit, I mean, I know I read that stuff, but does it make me come off as a celebrity obsessed idiot? I need him to know I’m not a fame-hunter. “But there’s more to it than that.”
“Like what?” He closes the menu without even reading it. Instead he looks right at me.
I feel my face flush again. I am not getting into my life story right now. With him. On our first date. Most likely our only date. Right now I don’t want to talk about my shitty past. I mostly want to kiss his scruffy face.
“Let me put it this way,” I tell him. “We don’t always have the luxury of being the person we want to be. Sometimes we just have to survive.”
He looks at me quizzically, as if trying to figure me out. “And US Weekly helps you survive?”
“It does,” I say, plainly. And truthfully.
He nods, not asking me any more about that and for a second I wonder if I completely killed the mood we had going on in the car, when he was looking me up and down and practically eating me out with his eyes.
God I hope I didn’t kill the mood ... because, damn, each second we sit here it makes me feel more and more bold about where this night could go.
I want it to go all the way.
“We need tacos,” he says. “And guacamole.”
“And for dessert?” I ask coyly, hoping he will lap up my insinuation.
“You,” he says, not even looking at me; instead, he waves over the waitress so we can order. “For dessert, I am having you.”
Chapter Four
JACK
The eye-fucking we’re doing across the table is no joke. The sexual tension is mounting and, damn, I’m ready to get this girl out of those jeans; all I want is to see her little pussy and give her a ride on my cock—because it’s been a while since I took a woman who actually made me smile.
And right now I’m more than smiling; Tess and I are laughing at everything and nothing. By the time we’ve had two margaritas, a shot of tequila, and enough carne asada to feed a small nation, we’re happy and horny.
I’m telling her about my trip home to see my parents, and she’s snorting as she laughs, which is pretty damn adorable. The liquor seems to drop the wall Tess has been hiding behind.
“You really walked in on them like that?” she asks.
“Yeah, he was taking her from behind when I walked into their room. I thought, damn, retirement doesn’t sound too bad if this is what you get to do at two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Your parents sound like they’re still really in love,” she says, a small smile on her lips.
“If their sex life is any indication, yeah, I’d say they’re in love. Doesn’t mean I need to see their bare asses ever again.”
We’re cracking up when the waitress brings us our bill.
“You two are such a happy couple,” she says, her Spanish accent heavy on her lips.
That makes us laugh again, but my eyes meet Tess’s. They are so startlingly bright and unmistakably hers. She looks at me in a way that makes me realize I better check and make sure this is just a one-night thing for her too.
I pay the bill and, once we’re back in the limo, I take a direct approach.
“You wanna come back to my loft?”
“Um.” She swallows, as if trying to suppress another smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“It’s just for a night of fun, right? Nothing more?”
“Are you telling me you want me to come to your place just so you can fuck me, Jack Harris?”
I know she’s teasing me by the smile on her face.
“That is exactly what I’m telling you.”
Once the intentions for the evening are clear, Tess becomes quiet on the way to my place. When the limo pulls up, and the driver opens our door, I take her hand, wrapping my arm around her.
“You good?” I ask. “I swear, it’s like all of a sudden I lost you.”
“Honestly?” she says, laughing again. “Um, I was just thinking that it’s been awhile since I’ve slept with a guy.”
“Ahh, there’s the Tess I know. The one who wears her heart on her sleeve.”
She smacks me across my chest as we take the elevator up to the top floor.
“Is that a bad thing? You’re the one who asked.”
“No, I like the way you’re truthful,” I say, as the doors slide open and we enter my loft. “I like that you’re so genuine. It’s refreshing. And pretty damn hot.”
“Jack Harris, are you saying you think I’m hot?” she feigns shock. Clearly with all our across-the-table flirting for the past two hours, we’ve covered the fact that there’s a mutual attraction. More than attraction. A heat. A fucking inferno.
“Yes, Tess, but a girl like you doesn’t need to fish for compliments.”
She follows me into the open floor plan loft that I call home. I appreciate the fact that she isn’t gawking at the view, gushing about the artwor
k or the magazine-worthy furnishings of the place.
She’s looking right at me, and the rest of the world seems to have faded away. And that makes me hard as hell, and also, makes me want to grab hold of this girl and thank her with my cock. Because, damn, she makes me feel good.
“Oh, I’m not fishing, Jack. I think you’re hooked.”
“With bait like that.” I grin, shaking my head at how cheesy this all is, but also how good it feels not to be trying to impress Tess, to just be with her, in this moment.
I told myself I was going to give her a night she wouldn’t forget, and I’m a man of my fucking word.
So I take hold of her waist, pull her close to me. She licks her lips, and I can’t resist any longer.
Pressing my mouth to hers, I taste the salty sweetness of the margaritas, and the tender desire she admitted to holding for me since we met. One taste of her and I know I want more. Need more.
I taste her, and then I take what we both want.
The slow kiss grows more urgent, and my hands find their way under her blouse. As I run my hands across the small of her back, my rod grows. And as I reach her tits, which are full and lush and just fucking perfect, she groans.
Which really fucking turns me on, because I’m the one who’s getting rock hard as my thumbs circle her taut little nipples, massaging her soft skin gently.
Our mouths continue to explore one another, my tongue circling hers. Her hands reaching toward my bulge, feeling my hardness though my pants. As I slip my hand under the waistband of her jeans, the soft hair of her unshaven pussy makes me think I might fucking explode.
I need her out of these clothes, and now.
I lift her blouse over her head, see her eyes filled with lust as I look her over. Her gaze holds mine as she slips off her sandals, unbuttons her pants and shimmies out of them.
She stands in my loft, wearing only a tiny pair of panties. The room is dark; the only light is the bright lights of the Strip shining through. She reaches up to her hair, then pulls it out of the messy bun. Her locks tumble over her shoulders, tousled perfection.
