“I want to feel you around me now,” he said, dragging her beneath him. “I want to see if you’re as tight as I dreamed last night.”
With a final shifting of position, he was between her legs. The latex-covered head of his cock pressed at her entrance but he teased her by pushing hard enough to breach her and then pulling back out. Gripping the base of his cock, he rubbed himself against her.
“I’m going to die if you don’t finish what you started,” she said, her words rough to her own ears.
“Literally or figuratively?” He grinned and before she had a chance to answer, he entered her with one smooth, fluid stroke.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, rolling her hips up to meet him as he seated himself deep inside her. “All of the above.”
He moved lazily at first, slow and languid, like he wanted to savor every second of them being joined. But the moment she yanked his head down to hers and pushed her tongue between his lips, he lost his cool. Hips bumping hard against hers, he stroked her deep and fast.
Another orgasm welled inside her, this one like a rolling thundercloud as it gathered steam.
“Lance, I’m so close,” she whispered. “I’m almost…”
He slipped a hand between them and stroked her clit with his thumb until she shattered, her muscles clamping down on him. Squeezing him until he followed her over the edge, his body wracked with shudders as he moaned her name into the side of her neck.
…
The sharp ping of a text message pulled Lance out of the thick post-coital fog. Bailey was curled into him, her nose pressed to the crook of his neck and her arms tucked tightly between their bodies. His phone lay on the nightstand, a message displayed on the screen.
“Shit!” He grabbed the phone and checked the time. “We’ve got to get moving.”
“Hmm?” she grumbled and snuggled further into him. “No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” He kissed her closed eyelids and the small, pouting rosebud of her mouth. “We have a client to catch and a watch to retrieve.”
Her eyes opened and she smiled. “Oh, voice of reason. Lucky one of us has our eye on the prize.”
“Oh, I do.” He cupped her face. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Her mouth opened up to his, her tongue pushing between his lips with more confidence than she’d displayed before. This new side of Bailey was tantalizing.
Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from her and took one last longing glance before heading into the bathroom. He disposed of the condom and wrenched the taps on the shower, stepping in before the water had a chance to warm up.
It seemed impossible, but he was totally satisfied and yet utterly desperate for her at the same time. He’d always enjoyed sex—he was a hot-blooded man after all—but being with Bailey was different. It made him different. Aside from the filth that had come tumbling out of his mouth, she made him hungrier. Unable to be fully satiated, but in the best way possible.
“It’s the honeymoon glow of new sex,” he said to himself as he turned his face to the spray. “Nothing to get all excited about.”
Yet his body was tightly wound in a way that wasn’t normal.
He scrubbed at himself with soap, determined to focus on the night ahead. The thick lather spread across his body and he watched as the suds raced down the drain with the water. When he tried to formulate a plan for getting to Braxton, his mind drew a blank. If he’d been a cartoon, little moths would have flown out of his ears.
He turned the taps off with a squeak and toweled himself dry.
“Get your shit together, Fulton,” he said, glaring at his murky reflection in the bathroom mirror. “This is work.”
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked out of the bathroom and halted suddenly. “Christ.”
Bailey stood in front of him wearing a dress that looked like something straight out of an old black and white movie. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail over one shoulder, leaving the other shoulder totally bare. Her hands pressed against her ribcage as if she was unsure where to place them.
“I didn’t have time to put much makeup on,” she said, touching her cheeks.
“You don’t need it. Orgasms are a good color on you.” He brought his hands to her waist and dragged her against him. His tux pants would be a tight fit if he wasn’t careful. But he couldn’t force himself to put distance between them.
“It looks pretty good on you, too.” She gave him a playful swat across the ass. “Come on, you were the one who said we had to get moving.”
“You’re right. But first….” He retrieved the mask and slipped the tag off. “I bought you a little something.”
A breath caught in her throat as she touched the mask. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s sexy and mysterious. Like you.” She waved his compliment away but he caught her wrist in his hand. “I’m going to get you to accept a compliment before you leave Vegas. That’s my goal.”
“You’ve got more important things to worry about than me.”
He made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat but decided to let it go. Baby steps. “Will you be able to see without your glasses?”
“I always have a pair of contacts with me, just in case.”
“Such a girl scout.”
He slipped the mask over her face and she adjusted it so the curved design hugged her. The black filigree looked even better than he’d imagined. Her eyes were like two shining sapphires set into a royal crown. Her skin looked even paler and more perfect; the sweet sloping curve of her jaw and slender column of her neck begging for his lips. The black ribbon was almost lost against her dark hair as he tied it firmly against the back of her skull.
“All right, Princess.” Pressing against her, he dropped his head to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Ready to get that watch back?”
“Lead the way, my half-naked prince.”
Chapter Nine
The ballroom was already in full party mode by the time they made it down. The sound of a string quartet floated on the air and for the first time in her life, Bailey felt like a princess.
The thought made a laugh catch in her throat. She’d always eschewed the big social events like dances and proms in high school. Silently, she’d mocked the girls who could talk of nothing more than finding a date and a dress, labeling them vain and silly. But it had mostly come from her fear that no one would ever want to escort her. Or dance with her. That she would forever go unnoticed by the opposite sex.
Now she knew what all the fuss was about.
“This is amazing,” she said, trying to take it all in at once.
The room was filled with people, men in tuxedos like the one Lance wore, and women in dresses ranging from floor-sweeping Cinderella ball gowns to slinky, figure-hugging numbers fit for the red carpet. Seeing everyone all dolled up in their decorative masks made her feel as if she’d stepped into a Venetian palace. It was over the top in the best way possible.
“I’m glad you’re excited but you’re about to kill the blood supply to my hand,” Lance said, giving her a playful nudge.
“Oh.” She flushed at the small indentations her nails had made in his skin. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay but you don’t have to hang on so tight. I’m not going anywhere.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “I’m all yours tonight.”
A lump lodged in her windpipe. It would be so easy to float through the evening feeling as if all her teenage girl fantasies had come to life—that a handsome prince had come to slay her dragons and sweep her off her feet. But her logical mind couldn’t let the dazzling lights and the warmth of his touch sugarcoat the truth.
Tomorrow the convention would be over and they would go their separate ways.
She would go back to being a boring, number-crunching workaholic and he’d find another lady to woo. The thought of him touching anyone else the way he’d touched her made her want to hurl. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she drew a deep breath. Panicking would n
ot help. She knew the risks going in and it was her fault for falling for him.
Falling for him? Are you drunk, Bailey Amanda Rueben? Did you accidently take a turn down Bad Decision road and end up in Stupidville?
She’d known him for two days. Two freaking days. That did not add up no matter how she sliced and diced the information. Maybe they pumped pheromones through the hotel air conditioning system because that would be way more plausible than a sensible girl like her developing real feelings for a self-labeled commitment-phobe.
Or maybe the truth was what she’d feared all along…she was destined to be left behind.
“Oh my God,” she whispered as her breath came shallow and fast.
“Bailey, what’s wrong?” Lance caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to his.
The deep crease between his blond brows should have made her feel better, but instead it was like a cage being closed around her lungs. No matter what happened in the next twenty-four hours, she could not let him know how she felt. There was no way she could face that rejection.
“I’m fine.” She steadied her voice. “I guess you wore me out this afternoon.”
“Let’s get you something to drink.” He led her to the table and ladled punch into a glass. “Here.”
An older woman in a sparkling, light blue dress winked at her as she sipped and Bailey tried to return a smile, but her lips quivered. The punch was flavorless on her tongue.
“Better?” Lance asked, snaking an arm around her waist.
“Yeah, thanks.” The fabric of her skirt gathered between them but it wasn’t enough to stop her body from wanting to melt against his. It wasn’t enough to stop her head inclining toward his shoulder as though it belonged there. “Hey, I think I see Janet.”
She pointed to where Lance’s boss stood with a group of men whom she assumed were his colleagues. Janet’s purple dress stood out among the tuxedos and she waved when she caught Bailey looking, motioning for them to come over.
Good. The distraction of their real purpose for being together this weekend would offer a welcome reprieve from her own panic.
Lance’s hand pressed into her back, heat radiating from his touch and spreading through her like a drug.
“Hi, Janet,” she said, her voice overly bright as she tried to pull herself together.
“Darling, you look wonderful.” Janet gave her an enthusiastic air kiss that told Bailey she’d been hitting the champagne.
Bailey sipped her punch. “As do you. That’s a stunning dress.”
“How on earth did you find such a polite young lady, Lance?” Janet said, the edges of her words slurred. “Have I mentioned how nice it is to see you settling down and becoming a responsible man?”
“Yes, you have mentioned that.” His fingers flexed at Bailey’s waist and she instinctively rubbed her hand against his back in soothing circles. “Once or twice.”
After the introductions were complete and she’d answered enough curious questions from Lance’s colleagues, she let her mind drift as they started talking shop. That was, until her eye caught a familiar face. Selena. Which meant Julian couldn’t be far behind.
“Excuse me,” she said, slipping out of Lance’s grip and inclining her head toward the restrooms so he didn’t try to follow her. “I’ll be back.”
“All right, Terminator,” he quipped with a crooked smile.
Why did he have to be so damn charming? And funny? Not to mention kind… Oh, and thoughtful? And crazy talented with his hands? Her fingertips grazed the edge of her mask as she caught a reflection of herself in a giant gilt mirror that hung along one of the ballroom walls. With the dress, the mask, and a rose-like flush that made her skin look alive, she wasn’t herself.
“This is a fantasy,” she said. “You’re playing make-believe.”
“What are you really doing here?” Julian’s voice prickled along her skin like an insect. She hugged her arms around herself and turned to face him.
“Here at the ball or here in Vegas?” she asked tartly.
“Do you expect me to buy that you that came here with your ‘boyfriend?’ and that you had no idea I would be here?”
“Pure coincidence,” she lied.
“Bullshit.” A nasty smile curled up the edges of his lips. “I know you asked Amy where I was going.”
At one point she’d thought Julian handsome, not model-worthy but he was polished and well put-together. And he could turn on the charm the way normal people turned on a tap. But she’d seen a nasty side of him after the confrontation about the messages on his phone—that charm had slipped away and underneath was something uglier than she’d ever suspected.
If she’d felt duped finding the sexy messages on his phone, it was nothing compared to finding the snake that lived under his skin.
“I want the watch back, Julian.” Her hands balled into fists.
“You gave it to me, remember? It was a gift and you can’t take it back because you changed your mind.” He raised a drink to his lips and she had to fight the urge to smack the bottom of the glass and tip the liquid and ice all over him. “And you were the one who decided to call it quits.”
“You were cheating on me!” She sucked in a breath when several heads turned in their direction.
“Sending a few texts is not the same as cheating.”
“How would you feel if I’d done that to you?”
He snorted. “I would have been happy because it might mean that you were interested in more than missionary with the lights off.”
Fire lit the inside of her face. “You know I think I’ve figured out why I was so boring in bed.”
“Why is that?” Julian raised a brow. “Enlighten me, Bailey.”
“It’s hard to get excited by a guy who doesn’t believe in foreplay.” She gritted her teeth. “Maybe I would have been more interested if you’d figured out what I liked instead of always worrying about yourself all the time.”
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve never had that problem with anyone but you. I’m glad you found those messages because now I don’t need to keep pretending I’m not looking for something better.”
She reeled as if he’d slapped her, tears stinging her eyes. “How dare you.”
“Oh, come on. You didn’t really think we were going to walk down the aisle together, did you?” A sharp laugh escaped him when her lip trembled. “You did? Bailey, I had no intention of marrying you.”
She wanted to retort, but the words backed up behind the giant lump in her throat. Humiliation had rendered her mute once again.
“I never promised you anything.” The ice in his glass clinked as he raised it to his lips.
“You implied it,” she whispered.
He shrugged and a strange expression passed over his face. “You heard what you wanted to hear. And don’t think it will be any different with him.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of where Lance stood, his back to them, oblivious to what was going on. “He chews women up and spits them out. They’re like gum to him. They’re nothing.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I most certainly do. You think this is the first time I’ve heard of him? We might not be from a country town where everyone knows each other’s business, but his reputation precedes him.”
“Give me the watch.” She took a step forward, her whole body trembling. “Now.”
“Maybe you should think harder before you give things away because you can’t just stamp your feet when you change your mind.” He raked his eyes up and down the length of her before turning on his over-shined shoes. “Nice dress.”
…
Lance looked over his shoulder. Bailey had been gone for a while and he couldn’t see her in the immediate vicinity. Ordinarily if his date snuck off to the bathroom, he wouldn’t worry until it hit the hour mark, but Bailey wasn’t the kind of girl to spend eons in front of a mirror. Bedsides, his gut was telling him something was wrong.
“Lance.”
Janet tapped him on the shoulder. “Have you met Mr. St. John before?”
He immediately stuck out his hand and fell into business mode. “Nice to meet you.”
“I hear you’re going to be the guy to wave a magic wand and make all my troubles go away,” Braxton said, returning the firm handshake. He had collar-length black hair and a rakish smile that made him look like the kind of guy who might’ve been on the cover of a romance novel in his heyday. “And please, save any jokes about the wand. I’ve heard them all before.”
Lance stole a glance at Janet and she nodded, turning to greet another ball guest. That was her unspoken offer. Braxton St. John was all his.
“That’s right. I tend to operate best with press releases rather than magic wands, but whatever gets the job done. Right?”
Braxton took a swig of his drink. “I’m all about the outcome.”
“So, tell me about the issue you’ve been having.”
They stood and talked through Braxton’s whirlwind relationship with the young daughter of a banking CEO. They’d gotten married in Vegas a year ago and had separated a few months later, but they were known for their loud, public arguments and loud, sometimes public makeup sex. She was also twenty-two to his forty-five, which seemed to get tongues wagging and had a penchant for starting catfights with any girls he hooked up with. Including the lead actress from his current filming project.
Then there was Braxton’s addiction problems—drinking, sex, and to a lesser extent, gambling. The guy was trouble with a capital T.
“So you can make all the press problems go away, right?” Braxton said, his eyes following the path of a woman in a slinky silver dress.
“We will make these problems go away. Our firm is very experienced at turning public perception around but you need to be a willing participant in that,” Lance said, although he had a feeling his words fell on deaf ears.
“Un huh.” Braxton bobbed his head, not making eye contact.
A moment later Lance saw the reason for his distraction. Bailey had come up beside him so silently he wouldn’t have noticed her had he not caught his soon-to-be-client staring.
Loving the Odds (What Happens in Vegas) Page 9
