Lust (Vegas Nights #2)

by Emma Hart

  “Why would you? You haven’t been inside my closet. Plus: I wore my coat.”

  “All I’m saying is that you need to give a guy a little warning before stepping out in a dress that would give the elderly a heart attack.”

  I rolled my head to the side and gave him a flat look. “You’re not supposed to be looking at me like that. Remember, Detective?”

  Still keeping his grip on the steering wheel, he moved his hand back and forth, flexing his arm. “The fact I’m not supposed to be looking at you the way I am is the only reason you’re not on the backseat with the dress around your hips.”

  “That’s inappropriate.” I cleared my throat, turning my head so quick my neck cricked.

  “So is that fucking dress.”

  “I’m only here because of you. This is a torture of your own making. You want me to fit in, then I’m gonna wear what I used to.”

  “Bit of a departure from the jeans of last night, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t know what was expected of me. Now, I do. So, tough.”

  Adrian took a deep breath, his eyes fixated on the road. I was glad of that—I wanted to just drive and drive, where he had to keep his eyes on where we were going as opposed to me.

  I really, really hadn’t thought it through when I’d picked this dress out of my closet. I didn’t even remember buying it. The tags were still on, and it was languishing at the back of my more regularly worn dresses, so there was a good reason I didn’t remembering ever having bought it.

  It’d been a long damn time since I had.

  Tonight, I’d just picked it up, shoved it in the bag, and moved on with my packing. Unless it was my wedding day or a prom, a dress was just a dress, right?

  Wrong.

  Apparently, a dress was a torture weapon…I just hadn’t meant to wield it around Adrian Potter.

  Whatever. I still maintained this was all his fault, of his own doing, and it wasn’t my fault if he found me attractive in it. That was his fault for staring at me.

  That was my story, and by damn, I was sticking to it.

  “You heard the chief,” he said, making a welcome u-turn in our conversation. “Three arrests tonight. And we even have a target.”

  “And like I said, I know the woman publicly known as Jenna Rose. You won’t find her during the week.” I rolled my eyes. Everyone who’d been in the seedy prostitution life in Vegas for a considerable amount of time knew who Jenna Rose was. Not many actually knew her, and at this point, she was closer to a sugar baby than she was a whore.

  She’d made money by being damn good at what she did. Rumor had it there were even a couple of sex tapes.

  And she was the one. The one the LVPD wanted more than anything. The problem was, there was a very gray area between being a sugar baby and a whore. One got paid for sex, the other got paid to show up somewhere and be pretty.

  I’d taken the wrong path.

  “We have to try to find her,” Adrian asserted, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “Then you should probably look in the Caribbean, because last I heard, she was spending the month there.”

  He shot me a look as we pulled into the hotel. “You could attempt optimism, you know. It might do you some good.”

  “And you could try to do a little thing called listening. That’s what these are for.” I tugged on his earlobe right before unclipping my seatbelt and getting out.

  He stayed in the car.

  I bent down and looked at him. “Are you coming?”

  His eyes flitted to the cleavage caused by both the low neckline of my dress and by gravity. “With you or on you?”

  I stood up. Fast.

  There was a line, and we were very, very close to crossing it.

  “Please excuse him,” I said to the displeased valet waiting for him to get out. “The doctor’s trip this morning was unsuccessful and he’s still very concerned about his little…issue.” I waved my hand in the general vicinity of my hips.

  The valet’s eyebrows shot up as my words sank in.

  Adrian slammed his car door shut and shoved the keys at the valet. I dipped my head to hide my smile, checking the road before I walked across it and stepped up to the pavement outside the doors.

  I didn’t even make it inside before Adrian pulled me against his body. His fingers dug into my waist with his tight grip, and he pressed his mouth against my hair.

  “Did you just tell the valet that I can’t get it up?”

  “I merely insinuated you had issues in that area. That could be crabs or herpes for all he knew.”

  “Perrie.”

  “If you want to be inappropriate, I can be, too.”

  “You told him I can’t get it up because I can’t stop thinking about how fucking sexy you are in that dress?”

  Well, there went the line.

  “And I’ll tell everyone else if you carry on!” I nudged my elbow into his side so he was forced to release me. Storming ahead, I didn’t even care that I knew he was looking at my ass.

  Tomorrow, I was going to wear a fucking parka and a pair of sweatpants.

  I walked up to the bar and tapped my nails against the thick, black, glass surface. Glass bar. That sounded like a recipe for disaster for me.

  A hard body pressed against mine from behind. Familiar hands landed on the bar either side of me, and Adrian’s lips hovered right by my ear, his breath tickling across my cheek.

  “I don’t know if you’re PMSing or you’re generally just this prickly, but remember who you are when you step into the casino.” He leaned into me. “You’re my girlfriend, and you need to act like it.”

  “I am. I’m just your pissed off girlfriend. Doubly so now that you suggested I’m PMSing.” I snapped the last few words and shoved at his arm.

  He took a deep breath, but moved his arm and stood beside me instead of behind me.

  Thank fucking god. I’d been starting to feel something I had no place feeling—his cock. Hard and pressed right against me.

  “What can I get for you?” A young woman who looked no older than me put her hand on the bar in front of us and shot Adrian a flirty smile.

  “I’ll have a beer, please. Budweiser.” He smiled right back.

  Hers grew a little wider, and she leaned forward, the scooping neckline of her shirt giving the people on the other side of the damn casino a full view of her cleavage.

  I cleared my throat, catching her attention. “I’ll have a strawberry margarita, please. Non-virgin.”

  “She’ll have it virg—”

  “No. She won’t.” I glared at Adrian.

  He stared back at me before saying, “Whatever she wants,” without taking his eyes off me.

  The bar girl hovered for a moment, clearly undecided over whether we were together or who she should listen to. With a slight grimace, she nodded, then turned.

  “I could have gotten her number.” Adrian perched on the edge of a stool and looked over at the girl behind the bar.

  “You’re more than welcome to ask her.” I sniffed, turning away from him.

  He was bluffing. I knew it. He was only trying to piss me off and get back at me for my comment to the valet. Whatever. I didn’t care—not at all.

  “Twenty-two-thirty,” the tender said, sliding both drinks across the bar, a move I caught in the corner of my eye.

  “Keep the change. And sorry about my girlfriend. It’s, you know.” He bent forward as he handed her the money. “That time of the month.”

  My jaw dropped at his words. What the hell? Slowly, I turned my head to look at him. His expression was deceptively plain, but there was no denying the fact he was laughing inside.

  All right, so he’d gotten me back.

  I hoped it felt good.

  I pulled my drink toward me and sipped. Immediately, I had to fight the scrunching up of my face as the alcohol burned on its way down my throat. It was strong—stronger than usual. I’d have to drink it slowly.

  Then again, it wasn’t my money,
so if I was able to get out of here before I could finish drinking it, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  “Shall we sit down?” Adrian motioned to an empty table with two chairs a couple feet away from the bar.

  “Let’s.” The word escaped through my gritted teeth. It went against my desire to flee, but hey. If it meant I had a vantage point away from the bartender, I’d take it.

  I took the first seat, the one with the better view. He stiffened. His beer clinked against the table when he put it down so he could move his chair. It was only a few inches closer to me, but closer was closer, and if you asked me, we’d already had enough closeness tonight.

  “Non-virgin, huh?”

  “I’m surprised you let me.” I took the tiniest sip of my drink, refusing to look at him.

  “I thought better than to argue with a lady so obviously on her period.”

  “Not on my period.”

  “Doesn’t PMS come first?”

  “Stupid questions can come before murder.”

  He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  I angled myself away from him slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You can’t blame me for your anger because you can’t get it up.”

  “I can get it up.”

  “Your temper or your cock?”

  “If you carry on, you’ll see both by the end of the night.”

  I jerked my head around to him. “You’re crossing the lines, Adrian. Stop it.”

  Holding his hands up, he bowed his head. “Sorry. Looks like you bring out the worst in me, baby.”

  “Looks like you’re determined to have my stiletto pierce your ballsac with that stupid little endearment.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Is this why the Fox family is feared?”

  “That’s because my father and brother are assholes beyond comprehension. You wouldn’t believe we’re related if you ever met them.”

  “We’ve met.” His tone was dry. “You have to know that.”

  I sipped my drink again. “Can we talk about something else? Like how inappropriate you’re being tonight?”

  Silence.

  Then, “We could, but if you’re the one wearing that dress,” escaped his mouth.

  If eyes were daggers, my stare would have sliced two sharp knives through his head. “I’m not responsible for the bullshit that comes out of your mouth, Adrian Potter. You are. I can wear whatever I like, and should be able to without being subjected to your shit.”

  His eyes softened, but only a little. “You’re right. Doesn’t change the fact you look damn good, though.”

  “I know.” My lips curved. “I didn’t pick my wardrobe in my sleep.”

  His gaze darted downward before he recovered and looked at me again. “Is our fake relationship still in disarray?”

  “It’s on the rocks. PMS does that to a woman’s thought process.”

  “That’ll do.” Gripping the back of my chair, he tugged hard. A squeal escaped my mouth as my chair knocked into his and our bodies came perilously close to touching.

  Instead of grabbing me, he simply laid his arm over the back of my seat. The only part of me he touched was my hair, but that didn’t stop the sharpness with which I inhaled at the move.

  The ends of my hair tickled against his bare lower arm. He twitched when I moved my head, and I swallowed to dispel the tiny lump that had formed in my throat and seemed to be stuck there.

  A light pop reached my ears when he drunk from his bottle. “Have you looked yet?”

  “I’ve been too busy fighting with someone,” was my reply.

  His light chuckles shook his whole body. I wasn’t looking at him, and he was barely touching me, but still, I knew. There was something in the way my chair vibrated at the movement of his own. In the way each laughing breath shuddered out of him as the main amusement petered off.

  I was damned. Barely there, that laugh sent a shudder down my spine that was only just fightable. Any stronger and I would have been helpless to the way it’d affected me.

  Not that I wasn’t already. The after-effects of something so simple and stupid were astounding—the goosebumps tickling my lower arms were itchy and unwanted.

  “I’ll be quiet.” Adrian stretched his fingers to touch my collarbone and pushed me back. “Look like you want to be here with me.”

  “I’m a prostitute, not an actress.”

  “Ever faked an orgasm?”

  “More than you’ve ever had real ones.”

  He laughed again. “Then apply that same logic.”

  “I would, but then I’m afraid you might believe I want to be here.”

  He sat forward, still laughing, and tucked my hair behind my ear. From behind, his breath was hotter. His fingers lingered at the curve where my neck met my shoulder, rough and heavy against my skin.

  “I promise, no matter how well you act, I will never believe you actually want to be with me.” He paused. “Does that help?”

  “That sounds like a legally binding agreement to me,” I said in a low voice. “Be careful what you wish for, Detective Potter.”

  “I am,” he said, lips against my ear. “That’s why I’m not saying that out loud.”

  I took a deep breath once more. “Then, it’s a deal. This is all business. No matter how either of us act when we’re working, it’s just that. An act. Done?”

  “Done.” He hadn’t moved. “Now, find me a prostitute.”

  ***

  Detective Samuel Allen handed me a glass of cranberry juice dressed up to look like a cocktail. “You’re on a roll tonight.”

  “A desire to get home has an awful lot to do with that,” I replied dryly.

  I knew very little about the man in front of me, except that Adrian had introduced him as his best friend. I was pretty sure that was a real introduction, one that probably served them well in this undercover work.

  “So, Sam,” I said, sipping on the tart juice. “Are you the best friend who was apparently getting married when Adrian arrested me?”

  He promptly choked on his Coke. “That’s direct.”

  “Who ever beat around the bush and got a straight answer?”

  “Good point. And he ever said, but I assume I must be.” He grinned, a boyish, playful grin that said he was the best best friend you could have. “For what it’s worth, if it were my bachelor party and he picked you up, he’d have my blessing.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “Good to know. He was all over the bartender at the last hotel.”

  Sam waved his hand. “Did he get her number?”

  “No, he told her I was on my period.”

  “He did? Does he still have his dick in place?”

  I laughed. “He does, but if you ask the valet there, it doesn’t matter because he can’t get it up, so…”

  “I think I just fell in love with you.”

  My hand covered my mouth to hide the extra laugh that wanted to escape. “Well, thank you.”

  “Who left the two of you alone?” Adrian slinked up behind Sam and smacked his shoulder.

  “Did you get her?” Sam asked, looking at him.

  He nodded. “Jerome is taking her in right now.” He slid his bright eyes to me. “You did good.”

  I swallowed, mimicking the head movement he just made. “Thanks.” Averting my eyes was all I could do. I didn’t want to look into that fucking blue-green ocean and feel like I’d done something good.

  I hadn’t.

  And here I was, standing with two cops, and I’d just been laughing with one of them.

  I rubbed the back of my neck and ignored the next few minutes of their conversation. I had no place in it. I didn’t care for it and I didn’t want to hear it.

  “Perrie?”

  I peered up through my lashes when Adrian said my name.

  “You good?” He met my gaze.

  I nodded.

  “You noticed more than one here, right?”

>   Now, the lump in my throat was thick. “The woman in black and pink by the door the poker room to the right. Brown hair to her shoulders and chunky, pink shoes.”

  “Sam? You wanna get Lloyd to handle this one?”

  Sam nodded once and, with a gentle touch to my arm, disappeared through the crowds in front of us.

  Warmth spread across my skin. I appreciated the gesture more than he knew.

  Adrian closed the distance between us. “Three in two. We should be able to go soon.”

  I nodded, dropping my eyes once again.

  “Still not okay with this, huh?”

  “Never will be.” My answer was short and sharp. “Doesn’t matter how many times your best friend over there makes me laugh or how you try to dress it up. I will never be okay with what I’m doing.”

  His fingertips were hot against my skin as he slowly moved his hand to push my hair behind my ear. They were rough yet comforting, and he stepped closer into me, something that meant his hand swept right through my hair until he was cupping the back of my neck.

  “Perrie,” he said softly, my name smooth and easy on his tongue. “You’re doing a good thing. You have to know that.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it, and you know that.”

  He cupped my cheek with his other hand, forcing me to look up at him. His bright eyes were wide and honest. Wide and honest and guarded. Like he didn’t believe what he was saying to me.

  “You could be—and are—changing lives with your help to us. We’d be floundering around with no direction without you.”

  “I’m not questioning that. That question comes with whose lives I’m changing. I doubt any of it is for the better—except for all of you who get to keep your jobs.”

  “So cynical.”

  “So realistic.”

  Adrian smiled, dropping his hand from my cheek. “Whatever you say, firecracker.”

  “I hate that nickname, too.”

  “I know.” His smile widened before momentarily dropping. “Perrie, you’re doing a good thing.” He brought his face close to mine, so close I could almost feel his lips touching mine, so close the stubble that lined his jaw threatened to scratch across my skin.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear it.