by Jennifer Ann
She releases a dry laugh. “I promise that won’t be happening anytime soon, but it was still sweet of you to think of me. As a friend. You always know how to take me out of my comfort zone.”
I stare at her mouth-watering hot body while scratching my head. How in hell’s bells am I going to control myself all night when she’s even more jaw-dropping hot than usual? I never stopped to think buying that damn dress would only be a form of self-torture.
“We need to go,” I say after checking my watch. “Andrew’s waiting.”
Even though we’re seated in a VIP section, there are still too many people and the club is too crowded for my taste. Plus I’m put off by the majority of women wearing revealing club attire, confirming the fact that there’s only one woman I want to see half-naked. The atmosphere of the place—flashy and over the top like Vegas itself—makes me miss the laid-back ease of Leona’s and Brooklyn Heights.
“You need another drink,” I yell over the thumping beat of the music, motioning to Sofia’s hands wrapped around an empty glass.
Standing from the table, I take her small hand in mine and lead her back toward the bar, ready to throw down a couple of guys when I catch them eyeing Sofia like she’s up for grabs. I have a hard time letting go of her once we’ve reached the bar, so I put an arm around her back as I order two shots of Patrón from the male bartender while inhaling her tantalizing scent. My fingers itch to move down further to where the silky skin of her lower back meets the material covering her perky ass.
“So we’re starting the night out with a bang, eh?” she asks, lifting both eyebrows to her hairline. “Last time I did tequila shots was at Ev and Charlie’s wedding. I don’t even remember how I got back to my room. Do you really want to spend the night babysitting?”
“Tonight’s about cutting loose,” I remind her, breathing easy now that her playful side has returned. “It’s time you release your wild side to the extreme. You deserve it after working so hard the past two weeks. In fact…maybe you should stand on the bar while you take this shot.”
With a bright gleam in her eyes, a short laugh falls from her lips. “There’s a distinct line between having a little fun and becoming a stripper. Chances are that line would be destroyed if I was foolish enough to do such a thing.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Her dark red lips bend with a smirk. “I’m sorry, is this peer pressure or another dare?”
Remembering how she wanted to defy me when I dared her to try on the outfit I bought from Sak’s, I narrow my eyes and match her smirk. “Consider it a dare, counselor.” When the bartender hands me two tall, skinny shot glasses with the club’s logo on the side, I hand one over to Sofia. “I dare you to get up on this bar-top, right here and now, and take this shot.”
Straightening her spine, she sets the drink back on the bar. Just when I think she’s backing out, she holds a hand out. “I’m gonna need help getting up there, playboy.”
A low burn spreads across my belly as I set my drink down and lift her by the waist, hoisting her up so she’s sitting on the bar. She’s laughing in good nature when she uses a stool as a stepping block and maneuvers with her legs pressed together until she’s crouching on the marble. I’m holding onto her hand when she slowly rises to her heels.
“Cheers, motherfuckers!” She cries out, holding the shot I’ve handed her into the air.
I almost choke on my shot, surprised by her choice of words. But Christ, it feels good to have things back to how they were between us. Fun and easy-going. Everyone around us hollers and claps as she slams the shot. Then she immediately lowers, waiting for me to assist her back down. She half falls onto me as I return her feet to the floor. We’re both laughing as we untangle ourselves, but I’m ready to pick her back up and take her to the penthouse. Especially when I watch her pulling her dress back down over the tops of her thighs.
I hold a $100 bill out to grab the bartender’s attention. The only way to survive this night is with more alcohol.
“How was it?” I ask Sofia.
“It was actually liberating. You should try it.”
“Taking shots on top of the bar?”
“No,” she says with a laugh, “taking another ridiculous dare.”
“This could get dangerous if we’re going to dictate our night on dares.”
“Hey! You’re the one who wanted me to let loose!”
The bartender returns, lifting his chin. “Two more?”
“No more tequila,” Sofia insists. “I’ll take a mojito before we blow out of here.”
“Whiskey sour,” I say. “Midleton if you have it.”
Once the bartender has left to retrieve our drinks, Sofia turns to me with a hand on her hip. “So are you game or not?”
“You want to leave?”
“We can hit a club anytime in New York. This is Vegas.”
“Fine,” I say with a shrug, secretly glad she’s not into this scene either. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I’m already glad I agreed to her game when her lips twist with a wicked smirk. “Damn, this is going to be fun.” She raises a manicured finger to tap at her chin and her eyes become squinty. “Hold on, this has to be good.”
I quietly laugh to myself, tapping on the bar while waiting for the bartender to return with our drinks. I didn’t expect it to be this simple to get Sofia out of her shell. Just as I take our drinks, Sofia bounces on her tiptoes. I take a swig of my whiskey, knowing I’m in for something big.
Her gaze sparkles when she asks, “How do you feel about heights?”
Running a hand through my wind-blown hair, I straighten the cuffs on my shirt before slipping back into my jacket. I’m hit with a slight buzz that can’t be attributed to alcohol.
“I’m still trying to piece together how this game escalated from shots of tequila to jumping off ledges of buildings,” I say to Sofia.
As we wait for the elevator back down among a small group of young women, one of which is wearing a “bride-to-be” sash, Sofia stifles a giggle behind her hand. “Would you rather I dared you to drink some girly shot? You’re the one who started this, Nolan. If you aren’t ready to play, then it’s time you eat your words and admit defeat.” She’s smiling brightly when she touches my shoulder. “By the way, you should see your face. The fresh air must’ve been good for you. You’re glowing.”
Damn right the air felt good. I haven’t jumped from a plane since I was in the service, and jumping off the attraction with Vegas beneath me was an excellent reminder of why I thrived as a Marine. Seeing the world from that angle was a total rush. I’m already thinking about doing it again sometime soon.
“It’s not something I would’ve signed up for on my own, but I’m glad I did it,” I admit. Then an idea comes to me that will have her eating her own words, and I can’t stop smirking to myself. As we watch the numbers on the elevator count down closer to our floor, I lean over and whisper, “I dare you to ride down the elevator in your bra and panties.”
Her lips part with a sharp intake of breath. “We’re on a business trip,” she reminds me among a hiss.
“You can stand in the back,” I whisper. “No one will have to know as long as you’re quiet about it. I promise I’ll be a gentleman and keep my back turned to you if it’ll make you feel at ease.”
“I can’t be seen half naked with a client.”
“Now we’re back to client?” I ask with a chuckle. “I thought tonight I was your friend.” Just then the elevator opens to a car with two couples in their early twenties. I step inside and turn to hold the door for Sofia, grinning. “Your move, counselor.”
Her cheeks darken as she watches the elevator fill with the bachelorette party. Taking her bottom lip in between her teeth, she takes a small step forward, then another. Finally she releases her lip and holds her chin high, squaring her shoulders as she steps in past me. When a belly-laugh threatens to burst, I cover my mouth and watch in the mirror over my head as Sofia makes her way
to the back corner of the car.
She slowly tugs at the neckline of her dress before yanking it down to her ankles. The chuckle stuck in my throat evaporates with the semi-warped view I’m given through the elevator’s etched mirror. I knew Sofia’s sweet body was filled with smooth angles and luscious curves, but seeing it covered with small swatches of cloth is beyond fucking awesome.
I’m only allowed a brief view of her generous tits hidden behind the tan lace and the small triangle concealing her pussy before she’s covering herself with her arms. When I look up to her face, she is actually smiling straight ahead like she’s proud of herself. As she has every fucking right to be.
One of the girls standing with her man next to Sofia slaps a hand over her boyfriend’s eyes, and the other starts to giggle.
“Right on,” the giggling girl says to Sofia. “Now this is a girl who knows how to party.”
The bachelorette party glances back her way, and they begin giggling along with the other girl until Sofia’s cheeks become spotted with red. The elevator ride is over far too quickly and Sofia’s pulling her dress back on as if it never happened. To be perfectly honest, I’m still in fucking shock that she went through with it as we’re stepping out into the casino lobby.
“Your girlfriend is hot,” the giggling girl’s boyfriend comments to me as they pass. “Have fun with that.” I grunt in agreement, wishing I was free to do more than play games with Sofia.
Sofia brushes past me next, purposely bumping into me. “Oh, it’s on, playboy,” she calls over her shoulder. “Better keep up. You’re not going to want to miss this.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or be scared shitless as I follow her out onto the busy sidewalk. Vegas has come alive, thriving with the kind of nightlife that would’ve made me blush as a thirteen-year-old. Clearly on a mission, Sofia marches past half-naked men handing our fliers to visit their nightclubs, elaborately dressed drag queens, and dazed tourists. My gut hardens when I consider I may have taken that last dare too far. Seeing men in dresses reminds me that there are lines I personally won’t ever cross even if it means swallowing my pride.
Sofia suddenly stops among a group of scantily-clad women, holding her splayed fingers back my way like a traffic cop. Curiosity gets the best of me as I watch her engage in conversation with a brunette wearing a bustier, fish-net stockings, and heels that make her tower over Sofia. At least she’s gorgeous and quiet obviously female. Sofia slips the woman something from her purse before both women head back my way. I don’t want to assume anything by how the woman’s dressed, but it doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to guess that she’s an escort. Just how far is Sofia planning to go with this bullshit game?
“Kiss her, Nolan,” Sofia whispers at my side, brushing her hand along my lower back. “And I’m not talking some closed-mouth bullshit. I want you to make a scene. Make every woman watching you wet. I dare you.”
My pulse skips a beat. Is this some kind of fucking test? The woman is hot as shit, but I have no interest in her. She’s not Sofia. But it’s still a serious turn on to hear her ask me to kiss another girl. My dick is painfully hard when I glance over my shoulder to gage Sofia’s expression. Her blue eyes are bright and challenging, and there isn’t a single ounce of hesitation on her beautiful face. She really wants this.
Unable to breathe, I turn back to the busty brunette who’s now running her tongue along her ruby red lips, anticipating what’s to come. Her head tilts down as I come at her, and she hooks a hand around my neck.
“Come on, sugar,” the brunette taunts. “Show me what you’ve got.”
A moment later, my lips are on hers. They’re cold and wet, just like her tongue that finds its way into my mouth. I take a handful of hair in my fist and tilt her head back to explore her mouth further. Though the kiss is merely part of a dare, it’s hot as fuck knowing Sofia is watching every second, and I want to give her a real show like she asked. More than anything, I want to give her something to anticipate in the future, once this client/friend bullshit is over.
A small crowd erupts in cat-calls and applause. When I break away to look at Sofia, her eyelids are heavy, her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are slightly parted as if she’s the one I kissed. Though it could be due to the booze in her system, I’d like to believe she truly wanted me to kiss her and not this random woman. But I can’t go against her resolve to keep our relationship platonic. I can’t risk her future simply because I’m dying for a chance to stick my hand up her little dress.
And however far this little game may take us tonight, there’s no way in hell I could stand watching her kiss another fucking man. Time to switch things up.
Chapter 10
SOFIA
Nolan became less talkative after kissing the gorgeous woman. Once our dares started to increase the ante, I began to worry that we’re pushing each other too far. I won’t pretend watching him kiss a total stranger was anything other than panty-wetting hot, although it did ignite a flicker of jealousy I wasn’t prepared to face. But holy hell, the way he took her mouth and grabbed onto her hair like he meant it left me breathless and achy. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to be the one he was kissing. I was ready to forget my resolve and drag him back to the room to let my true feelings be known.
In falling for him, I’m playing with a fire that I’m not completely convinced I want extinguished.
The last shot of Patrón swishes around my stomach as I climb up the steps to a worn stage, ready to take on Nolan’s latest dare. The clicks of my heels are the only sound to break past the echoing thuds of my heartbeat in my ears. The obnoxious lights shining down on me are so bright that I don’t immediately see Nolan among the few other men making up the crowd. I can’t decide if I want to see him, or if it would only make things worse.
I can do this. I subtly sway my hips as the slow beat begins to play over the speakers. Sweat prickles across my forehead as my stomach clenches tight, threatening to purge the three shots of tequila it took to get me up here. Heartbeats quickening to a furious pace, I scan the eyes of the crowd. It’s not like I’m going to know anyone here. I’m in Vegas, for Christ’s sake!
I hear Sharlo’s British voice telling me I need to take a chance and put myself out there. Then I remember what Nolan said about self-confidence being one of the sexiest things about a woman, and I’m all fired up. Not only can I do this, but I need to for my own well-being.
My eyes follow the words to Paula Cole’s song as they roll across the screen, even though I know them by heart. While I haven’t officially been in a choir since high school, my soprano voice is well-suited for the song and sounds pretty damn good to my own ears.
“You make me feel like a sticky pistil, leaning into her stamen…”
Grabbing the microphone, I close my eyes as I sing the chorus. As the words come to me, I imagine Nolan standing at my back, his large hands on my hips, warm breath on my neck. I envision his lips grazing the curve of my neck as one of his hands cradles my breast and the other nestles between my legs. I can smell him all over me as his hands begin to move back and forth, gently coaxing me to come. I can hear his breaths quicken with his hard dick pressed to my back.
Realizing the fantasy has brought me dangerously close to coming all over the stage, I yelp on a note and open my eyes. Across the hazy bar I finally catch Nolan’s gaze. A whirlpool of lust brews behind his beautiful hazel eyes, nearly knocking me on my ass. We may have openly confessed we’re friends and nothing more—even if it was half-hearted on my end, knowing I’m not ready for anything more in addition to the possibility of losing my career before it’s even begun—but friends don’t look at friends like they want to straddle them naked. And I’m pretty sure friends don’t fantasize about friends bringing them to an orgasm.
A swell of desire rises in my stomach as I hold his gaze, singing the words directly to him. The cocky son of a bitch settles back in his chair, setting one ankle over the other knee, and smirking behind a heavily li
dded gaze. He knows damn well I’m giving in and wishing to be more than friends.
But this is supposed to be about a dare.
I take the microphone off its stand and make my way down the steps, sashaying toward two men in worn baseball caps drinking beer out of mugs. They’re average as far as looks go, and quite possibly in their late thirties, but it’s not like I’m actually planning to hook up with one of them. They could be married for all I know. I’m just looking to put Nolan in his place.
The better looking of the two men sits taller with an interested leer, so I cozy up to him, shimmying my backside against his chair as I continue crooning the lyrics with my eyes closed. One minute I feel the man’s clammy hands sliding over my waist, and the next I’m being tugged away by a second set of more aggressive hands.
My eyes flip open to find Nolan glaring down on me with a dangerous cloud of anger stirring in his expression. Though it’s incredibly hot to see him going alpha male, it takes me by surprise and I stumble back.
“No more,” he growls, taking the microphone from my hands. “You made your point.”
There’s a metallic squeal from the speakers when he throws the mic to the floor. Nolan takes my hand in his very firm grip and makes a b-line for the entrance. The song is suddenly cut short and a couple of “boos” fall behind us followed by an amused apology from the deejay. I’m too focused on my heart trying to burst from my chest and my legs stumbling to keep up for my mind to process everything as it’s happening.
Within seconds, we’re back on the busy sidewalk. Nolan continues at a neck-breaking speed, bumping into other tourists and peddlers along the way. Guilt for driving him to this point seeps into my pores until I’m near tears.
“Nolan, hold on a minute,” I plead, desperately trying to tug him backwards. “Can we talk about this?”
