He must’ve realized he had the flash on his phone aimed directly into my eyes, because he promptly lowered the beam and then flicked it off, shrouding us in darkness once more. Although, my darkness now glowed with bright spots of white anywhere I looked.
“I’m so sorry about that, Jen. I only meant to see if you were bleeding or scraped, not blind you.”
For fear of tripping and falling again—especially considering I could see even less than before—I reached out and grabbed the first thing I touched, which I assumed was the side of his shirt. “That’s okay. I’m just happy you didn’t have it on when I kissed the floor…although, if you did, I might’ve seen where I was going and saved myself that added embarrassment.”
“I was actually trying to get it on before you walked away, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough.”
Just as I opened my mouth to say something else, I was interrupted by someone shouting above all the other voices in the large, packed room. “You might as well settle in, folks. Looks like we’ll be here a while. The power failure is city-wide, and as of right now, there’s no word on how long it’ll be before the electricity is up and running again. Until further notice, the doors will remain closed.” There was a reason Frankie was a highly successful doorman—aside from his freakishly large stature, he had a voice that could scare the most feared criminal. A lot of people called him Hulk, but to us, he was simply Frankie, the gentle giant.
A woman called out, loud enough to be heard but soft enough to know she wasn’t close to us. “What if we’re staying in the hotel? Can we leave to go back to our room at least, instead of being locked in here?”
“Sorry, ma’am, but no one’s leaving the club until we get word that it’s safe to do so. The elevators are down, and having this many people in the stairwell is a fire hazard. So grab a seat and get comfortable.”
The chatter in the room grew louder—though, not loud enough to drown out my groan.
“Looks like we’re stuck in here, huh?” Beckett placed his hand on the small of my back, and for a split second, I thought he might’ve been trying to pull me closer to him. It became obvious that wasn’t what he was doing when he added, “We should probably find somewhere to sit…unless you don’t mind standing on the stage all night.”
Between the announcement, the news of the entire city being without power, and the thought of spending however long in the dark with this man, it’d taken me a few moments to let my mind settle enough to answer. “I, uh…I should probably get out of this costume first. I’m pretty sure I look like I’m molting or something.”
“Well, the good news is no one can see you, so I doubt it matters much what you look like. But I can understand why you’d want to shed the feathers. It can’t be very comfortable.” Not only did Beckett have this insane ability to convey expression to a blind man, but he also had the power to make me believe he could see every inch me while blindfolded.
I started to nod but stopped myself when I remembered we were only working with shadows. It was amazing how a power outage could make you aware of how much you rely on your sense of sight. They say when you lose one, the others get stronger, but so far, I couldn’t weigh in on that theory. The only thing I knew so far was that Beckett’s touch was electrifying—then again, I hadn’t had the privilege of feeling him with the lights on, so I had nothing to compare it to.
This time, instead of walking away, I shuffled my heels along the floor to ensure I wouldn’t fall on my face again. That got me all of three steps before Beckett grabbed my hand to halt my exit. “I’ll wait here for you to come back. If you don’t, that’s okay, too.”
It seemed he was very fluent in guilt trips, because that alone had me wanting to return, just so he wasn’t left here alone. Well, there were other factors that went into my desire to spend more time with him—once I shed these feathers and put on actual clothes—but that was neither here nor there.
“I’ll be back, Beckett,” I whispered before carefully making my way backstage.
I’d thought the customers up front were hysterical, but the chaos ensuing behind the scenes made the main room feel more like naptime at a daycare center. It was too much to deal with; I didn’t handle stress well. All I wanted to do was take off these wings—and the uncomfortable corset and panties as well—and slip back out to the front without being stopped by anyone I worked with. I just wanted to hide in the ambiguity of the club, become just another shadow in a booth, and get lost in the shuffle of the bodies seeking safety.
Hell, even if I got trampled on, it’d be better than this.
CHAPTER 3
Beckett
It’d been ten minutes, which was nine longer than I would’ve waited for anyone else. But I reminded myself that Jen had to take off what seemed to be a very complicated costume, find her change of clothes, and put them on…in the dark—which led me to imagine what she looked like naked.
On top of that, she’d mentioned trying to find out what was going on from her mates in the back. So really, ten minutes was a reasonable amount of time to take to accomplish all of that. Although, that didn’t stop me from growing impatient and questioning if I should just find a seat before they were all taken.
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I noticed someone moving toward me from the stage exit Jen had gone through. It was a small, shadowy figure with womanly hips that swayed from side to side with each step. I didn’t need to hear her voice to know it was her, but it helped anyway when she said, “Beckett?”
“Yeah.” She was much shorter without the heels; I had to drop my chin to my chest to direct my attention to the sound of her voice. “You all right?”
An airy giggle drifted between us. “You ask that a lot. Are you that concerned?”
The subtle differences between the English language wasn’t unknown to me—I’d grown up watching American television, so I was well aware of it. If anything, it made me laugh when someone misunderstood what I was saying when I could follow along with them just fine.
“It’s a greeting.”
“Your way of saying hello is asking me if I’m okay?”
It was my turn to blow out a wave of humor. “No, Jen. It’s not to ask if you’re okay, it’s like saying ‘you good?’ Kind of like the way you say ‘hi, how are you?’” I shook my head and reached for her hand, loving how small it was in mine. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go sit down somewhere.”
To my surprise, she laced our fingers together and followed me into the crowded room. What wasn’t a surprise, though, was not being able to find a table without having to share with others. And that was something I didn’t particularly care to do.
“I know where we can sit.” Jen led me back to the stage and carefully made her way to the far side without stumbling on anything again.
There, we found a sofa—part of the set—completely hidden in darkness. Even the emergency lights didn’t reach back here. It was quite nice, actually. And quiet, too. I wasn’t sure what her plan was for bringing me here, but I wasn’t about to complain.
“Did you find out anything from your mates?” I asked once we got situated on the cushions. They felt like velvet and were more than likely red, but I had to say, they were comfortable.
“Not much…basically things I already knew like it affecting all of Vegas, and our cell phones don’t work.”
“Yeah, I tried calling out while you were getting changed and it wouldn’t connect. Texts won’t deliver, either. It’s like there’s some kind of technology blocker.” Saying that out loud made me recall the person from earlier who’d mentioned a terrorist attack, and it left me wondering if that could be true.
“I guess we’re stuck here for the time being. The least they could do is pass around drinks. Then again, a bunch of drunk, angry people might not be best.”
I shifted on the couch to turn toward her more. “Probably not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of our time. At least this way, I can go home and tell everyone ab
out the sexy bird I spent a night in the dark with.”
She was quiet for a moment, and it made me worry she’d misunderstood what I had meant. Luckily, when she did speak, her tone was laden with her easy smile, calling to mind the image of her pink lips. “Where are you from?”
“England.”
As if mimicking me, she shifted on the couch and turned toward me, her knee hitting mine on the cushion between us. I almost moved my leg, but I quickly decided against it, enjoying being able to touch her in some way without worrying about scaring her off. She seemed brazen—being someone who danced for strangers in scantily clad outfits—though I’d been around the block enough times to know first impressions could be deceiving. And the last thing I wanted to do was make her take off before the lights came back on.
Her voice grew softer, filled with awe, when she asked, “You live there? Currently?”
“Yeah.” Humor bubbled inside my chest at the surprise in her tone. “In East Yorkshire.”
“Do you come to Vegas often?”
“No. This is my first time. Why?”
“Just curious if I’ve ever seen you before. It’s not like I know what you look like or anything, yet you’ve seen my face…and then some,” she added in a whisper, which immediately transformed into a gasp when my fingers wrapped cautiously around her wrist.
Without a word, I lifted her hand to my face, cupping her palm over my stubbly cheek and holding it there. After a couple of seconds, I gently relaxed my hold on her arm and allowed her to continue the exploration I’d initiated.
If she wanted to know what I looked like, this would be the best way. For all I knew, she’d seen my face before, and the thought of her realizing who I was sent a wave of fear through me unlike I’d ever felt. Being Beckett Jones got me anything and everything I wanted. But right now, I wanted to get it on my own. Without the name. Without the face. Without the bank account or reputation. I wanted to get it the way everyone else did.
By being myself.
At first, she stroked my cheek with her thumb, the short bristles of my five o’clock shadow humming beneath the pad of her finger. Then she traced the line of my jaw down to my chin, where she lightly grazed my lips with her short nails. It was enough to force my eyes closed, even though I could see the same whether they were open or not. I just needed to gain a little control of myself and breathe, hoping she wouldn’t figure out how turned on she made me.
She continued her feather-like touches along my brow, to the sides of my eyes, the bridge of my nose, and then down my neck, where she slowly tapered it off and withdrew her soft fingers. It took even more effort to stop myself from grabbing her hand and making her visualize the rest of my body while I did the same to hers…with my tongue.
Fuck. They needed to get the power on soon, or I’d need a wheelchair and a bag of ice to get me down to my room. I was no stranger to blue balls, except I had a feeling Jen would introduce me to a whole new level of sexually frustrated pain.
I cleared my throat, opened my eyes, and attempted to carry on our conversation as if I wasn’t at all affected by her. “Where are you from?”
Wow, Beck…that was a stupid question.
She must’ve had the same thought based on the light, fluffy giggle that drifted from her lips to my ears, setting my body on fire from the inside out. “I moved to Vegas almost six years ago. Before that, I lived all over—I was an Army brat.”
“Sounds like quite a story. Have you danced this whole time you’ve been here?”
“Yeah, but not at this club. I came here eight months ago.” While she didn’t sound closed off or like this wasn’t a topic she cared to discuss, I could detect slight unease in her voice, as if she had more to say but hesitated to continue.
The last thing I wanted to do was push a topic she might not have been comfortable sharing, so I decided to go with a broader question, something that might help her relax again. “Where were you at before?”
If that didn’t work, she was more than welcome to touch me again.
“When I first moved to town, I was basically a back-up dancer at Tropicana. But I wasn’t there long before getting a spot at Bally’s as a showgirl. I was there for five years. Best years of my life.”
What I wouldn’t give to see her face as she explained this. There were such mixed emotions in her tone that it made me desperate to experience their war in her eyes. “Why did you leave, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Jen pulled in a long breath and quickly let it out in what sounded like an uneasy huff. “It’s a long story. I’m sure you have plenty of more interesting things to talk about.”
“Well, considering the entire city is without power, and they’ve locked us all in here, I think it’s safe to say we have plenty of time to talk about both of us. But if it’s something you don’t want to tell me, I will respect you and not push.”
“It’s a boring story, I promise. Unless hearing about my ex is something that interests you, I’d rather hear about you. Why are you in Vegas? And why are you here alone?” It was obvious this woman knew how to talk to a man and get her way, because regardless of how much I wanted to know about her ex and why she left the best job she ever had, I gave in and allowed her to change the subject.
I was used to birds eating out of my hand…not the other way around.
“I came here with a group of mates for a stag do.”
The switch of topics was well worth it once I heard the giggles that erupted in her chest—which brought to mind a mental image of her breasts jolting with the rumbles of laughter. “I’m sorry, but a what?”
Yeah, I totally did that one on purpose, knowing she didn’t have a clue what a stag do was. “What you do before you get married. You get together with your mates and have drinks and celebrate the last moments of being single before tying the knot.”
“Oh…a bachelor party.”
Teasing her some more, I said, “Yeah, that’s what I said. A stag do.”
“If this blackout lasts much longer, I’m gonna need an American-British dictionary.”
“Good luck reading that in the dark.”
She leaned forward while laughing and placed her hand on my thigh. I doubt she was aware of where her hand landed, but as soon as I flexed my muscle, she quickly moved it away. Too bad she couldn’t remove the heat left behind by her palm, though. That traveled north and settled around my balls, making the likelihood of lasting pain even higher.
“I guess it looks like I’ll have to just keep asking what you mean by things, then.”
That was fine with me. I’d take any excuse to keep her talking.
“Where are your friends? Please don’t tell me you ditched them out there to sit back here with me. That would just be rude.” Her flirtation was subtle, but it was enough to rope me in, make me hungry for more.
That might’ve been because I wasn’t used to women playing this game. They were usually more obvious about what they wanted. But Jen? She knew how to intrigue me without exerting any effort—which amazed me, considering she danced in practically nothing for men on a nightly basis. Then again, maybe we were more alike than I realized, both publicly vulnerable to the opposite sex, only in different ways.
Whatever it was, it had me invested and craving more.
“They left this morning. My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”
“From the looks of it, you might be here a little longer than anticipated.” She patted my leg again, though this time, she made sure to keep her hand on my knee. “I can’t imagine the airport isn’t being affected by this.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” I started to reach into my pocket for my phone, and then quickly remembered it would do me no good. “Shit, I can’t even call to check on my flight. As if things couldn’t get worse… What a fucking nightmare.”
“Gee, I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but I can’t say anyone has ever said being stuck in the dark with me was a nightmare. Well, at least not to my
face.”
I held back my smile at her teasing tone and leaned closer to her, only stopping when I could vividly hear the change in her breathing, normal to short and sharp. “The only part about being stuck in the dark with you that I’d consider a nightmare is not being able to see your face.”
The sound of her breath catching in her throat broke my restraint on my grin.
CHAPTER 4
Jen
Beckett’s voice was breathy and full of provocative lust. It was so intoxicating that, with my eyes closed, I could practically feel his erection without touching him.
At this point, I wouldn’t mind if the lights never came back on.
I was seconds away from giving in to the desires that pooled in my lower stomach, but before I could, he shifted in his seat, moving his knee off the cushion between us. The space he created by pulling his face away from mine managed to break the spell he’d put me under with his gruff voice and rugged, masculine scent. It allowed my mind to clear enough to grasp the situation.
It didn’t matter how turned on I was, I had standards—no one-nighters.
Unfortunately, it seemed his accent was my kryptonite.
I cleared my throat, my mouth too dry to speak without sounding utterly affected by him. At least it gave me an idea and an excuse to get a bit of breathing room. “I’m going to the bar to see if they have water. I can’t imagine they aren’t handing out any.”
Beckett grunted in agreement while I pushed off the sofa. Maybe he was just as affected as I was. Either way, it seemed we both needed a few minutes to gather ourselves before we desecrated the stage prop.
It didn’t take me long to find a couple bottles of cold water and make my way back to our hidden alcove away from the disgruntled guests. Just getting away from them made me thankful there hadn’t been any vacant booths by the time I finished getting dressed. It made me grateful for the couch and secluded space, even if it meant I could end up getting myself in a little bit of trouble.
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 113
