Text Appeal

by Lexi Ryan

  Lacey punched Riley’s arm. “Get out!”

  Riley winced, rubbing her triceps. “Sure, just last Christmas I caught Jaws on tape humping Santa’s leg at the company Christmas party.”

  Lacey gave a dramatic eye roll. “Right. Well, girl, if that’s the most scandalous thing you have going on in your life, I suggest to kick it up a notch.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice,” Riley said with a sigh.

  Furrowing her brow, Lacey grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV. She turned on the couch so she was facing Riley. “But you can still be a little scandalous in private. People aren’t watching you all the time.”

  No, thanks to years of good behavior, it was rare to find paparazzo following her these days. Sure, there was the occasional story about how simply she lived or how hard she worked, facts that had her dubbed early on as “Vegas’ Good Daughter,” but those stories only sold papers if they were accompanied by fall from grace stories. As long as she was boring, they’d leave her alone.

  She stood, pulling out her hair tie. She only had thirty minutes before Charlie Singleton would be here. “I’m going to jump in the shower,” she told her roommate as she stood.

  Lacey raised a brow, watching Riley over the back of the couch. “Another date with Chaz?”

  A smile curved Riley’s lips at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. Lacey might not be Team Chaz now, but if Riley told her about the text messages he’d started sending her, maybe she’d see the light. “Not tonight,” she answered. The talk about the latest developments in her relationship with Chaz would have to wait for another time. “Your brother’s taking me out tonight.” That also made her smile. Dear God, she was a mess. Thoughts of spending an evening with Charlie shouldn’t make her giddy.

  Lacey pushed herself to her knees and propped her elbows on the back of the couch. “My brother? Maybe you are being a little scandalous in private, and you’re just not telling me about it.”

  Riley bit her lip as she remembered why she’d agreed to dinner with Charlie. She couldn’t tell Lacey he wanted to talk about her birthday—Charlie might be planning a surprise. Instead she just shrugged. “He promised to keep it platonic.”

  Lacey snorted. “Have you met my brother?”

  Chapter Five

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley said when their cab pulled up outside the Eiffel Tower replica. She turned to Charlie. “You know I can’t do this, right?”

  He opened the door and stepped out. Reaching back in for her hand, he said, “I know no such thing.”

  He ducked under the doorframe and smiled. His grin, charming and wide and just for her, made her stomach flip-flop.

  “You need a ride somewhere, Miss?” the cabby asked.

  She shook her head. She wouldn’t make a fool of Charlie over some ridiculous fear. With a deep breath, she put her hand in his and slid out of the cab.

  As the taxi pulled away, Charlie squeezed her hand and she raised her eyes to the top of the tower.

  That was a mistake.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, swallowing the ball of panic in her throat. It wasn’t the height that did it. Not exactly. It was knowing how she’d have to get there.

  “Hey, look at me.” Charlie tilted her chin up with his thumb.

  She blinked. They locked eyes. He kept her hand enclosed in his.

  “Now, close your eyes.”

  She did as he said because the alternative was looking over his shoulder and thinking about being trapped in the elevator that would take them to the dining area. “I can’t do it, Charlie,” she said softly.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he said. “Think about something else.”

  She swallowed. Her hand felt small in his big one. His skin was hot on hers. “Like what?”

  His next word came as a hot whisper against her ear, “Sex.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Charlie, you promised.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  The reasonable answer to that question was no, but she found herself nodding. Against all her better judgment, she’d always trusted Charlie ‘the Devil’ Singleton. She thought that was why they’d given him that moniker in poker—he was so smooth, so damn charming, you trusted him even when you knew trusting him would cost you.

  When Charlie was around she could count on three things: making a fool of herself and him laughing it off like it didn’t matter, going gooey inside every time he smiled, and trusting him against her better judgment.

  Looking into his eyes now, she felt the latter two in full effect and wondered when she could expect the first to arrive. Probably soon if she had to get in an elevator. “I don’t want to go up there. Let’s go somewhere else.” She had to gulp in air as she imagined it. She couldn’t get in that elevator. She liked being able to see more than two feet in any direction, preferred having the earth beneath her feet. “Do we have to?” she asked.

  Charlie tilted her chin up. “You’re tough, and I know you can do this. I picked it because it’s a glass elevator, so if it’s claustrophobia that gets to you…” He trailed off, studying her face. “We can leave right now if you want to.”

  Her insides warmed and relaxed a bit. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to be afraid.”

  He smiled and squeezed her fingers in his. “You’re tougher than you think, sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “It’s true. Now close those gorgeous green eyes again.”

  She obeyed, followed him two steps and stalled.

  She knew he’d closed the space between them because she could feel the heat of his body, could feel his breath against her cheek. “You’re thinking again, Riley. You need to turn that off once in awhile. Tell me, what’s your favorite thing about living in Vegas?”

  She frowned. He was leading her again, staying closer this time as she took small, blind steps to follow. “Who says I have a favorite thing? Maybe I hate living here.”

  She wanted to open her eyes at the hearty sound of his chuckle but didn’t dare. If she was going to do this—if she wanted to make it to the top without a panic attack—she needed to keep her eyes closed.

  “You can’t fool me, Riley,” he said. “There’s something keeping you here or you would have left already. So, tell me, what is it you love so much about Vegas?”

  “I work in the hospitality industry. Why would I move? It’s like a smorgasbord of jobs for someone like me here.”

  She heard his tsk-tsk followed by a very clear ding. She jumped, her eyes flying open.

  They were in the elevator. And it was moving. They were in a small, moving elevator. They were in a very small, moving elevator and she didn’t know how long they’d been here and how much longer it would take. Had they stalled?

  Charlie cleared his throat and loosened her grip on his jacket. “Not that I’m complaining about having you this close to me,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “In fact, I could get used to it.”

  She was glued to him, she realized vaguely, but she couldn’t contemplate moving. Not until those doors opened.

  “It’s just, Riley, baby, if you’re going to have your body this close to mine, I want you to be looking desperately at me, not a pair of elevator doors. Do you have any idea what that does to a guy’s ego?”

  She frowned. “I’m not worried about your ego,” she muttered.

  “Hey.” He was stroking her back, soft circles between her shoulder blades. “You’re shaking.”

  “I prefer the stairs,” she whispered.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She shook her head, staring at the doors. Like Charlie had promised, the elevator was glass, and that relieved a little of her claustrophobia. If they got stuck, people would be able to see they were inside. They’d be okay. Someone would come help them.

  The elevator’s second ding signaled their arrival, and the doors slid open to the
famous bustling kitchen of the French restaurant she’d always been curious about but never visited.

  The concierge smiled. “Reservations?”

  “Singleton,” Charlie said. And just like that they were being led out of that death trap of an elevator and to their table.

  When the concierge pulled out a chair for her, Riley gasped at the view. Their seats were right next to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the eleven-story-high view of the fountains at the Bellagio.

  “Will the heights bother you?” Charlie asked in a whisper.

  She shook her head and slid into her chair, angling it strategically so she wouldn’t miss a second of the vision outside the window. “It’s beautiful.”

  The concierge placed a leather-bound menu before her. She opened it and gaped. Quick mental calculations told her a basic meal here could more than pay for her next shopping spree at Frederick’s. When she looked up, Charlie was studying her.

  “You’re doing it again,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm.

  “Doing what?” Charlie asked, eyeing her over his menu.

  Flames of heat licked higher in her cheeks. She wished she was one of those women with a cute flush, but hers pinkened her whole face. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re looking at me like I’m the sprinkles on a brownie sundae.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, then the little of her body not hidden behind the table. Though she was covered by a black, high-necked number she’d chosen for modesty, the heat in his eyes made her feel exposed. His focus shifted back to her mouth before he said, “Sweetheart, you’re the whole damn sundae, and I am more than ready for dessert.”

  She looked around them. Had anybody heard? Did she hope they had or hadn’t? “You promised you’d behave,” she whispered.

  He raised a brow, the picture of innocence. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

  Their server approached their table. “The wine you requested, sir,” he said, placing a bottle on the table. “May I get you started with the roasted foie gras, tonight?”

  “Please,” Charlie said.

  Riley chewed on her lip, calculating her budget. Everyone assumed that because her father was this big hotelier, she had a bottomless checking account, but the opposite was true. She took pride in being frugal, in stretching every dollar. In paying her own way.

  “Riley,” Charlie said softly.

  She lifted her gaze from the menu to meet his. Damn but he was handsome. She’d always loved those blue eyes.

  “Dinner’s on me. Relax.”

  She frowned. “I can’t let you do that.”

  His chest shook with his deep, rich chuckle. “Sure you can. I begged you to dine with me—something, I’ll have you know, I don’t normally do. The least I can do is pay.”

  “This is all pretty extravagant for a dinner to discuss Lacey’s birthday.”

  He lifted his palms and treated her to a flash of dimple. “What can I say? My sister is very important to me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The server returned with the wine and he and Charlie went through the ritual of sampling it before the server offered her a glass.

  “Oh, no thank you. I’ll have water.”

  The server nodded politely. “Our special is le filet boeuf served with a red wine sauce.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Charlie said, closing his menu. He looked at Riley. “You too?”

  Riley swallowed, lest she drool over the steak. “No, I don’t eat red meat,” she said. “I’ll have the salmon, please.”

  The server took the rest of their order and excused himself.

  Charlie leaned forward on his forearms. “No red meat?”

  Stop smiling at me! But she couldn’t very well demand that without letting him know what an effect his smile had on her and her now-gooey insides. “It’s not healthy,” she explained.

  “Do you treat yourself to anything that isn’t healthy or let yourself enjoy anything that isn’t practical?”

  Her cheeks burned. He knew all about her completely unpractical addiction...though he had no way of knowing what a serious addiction it was.

  He chuckled. “Other than that. You have a practical job, wear practical clothes—with the exception of certain undergarments that are probably the healthiest thing your psyche has going for it—you eat only sensible things.” He swirled his wine and took a drink. “You sure you don’t want a glass of wine?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t drink on weeknights.”

  He chuckled. “See what I mean?”

  She straightened. “I’m responsible.”

  He passed his glass to her. “No one’s arguing there.”

  She frowned into his wine. “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “Smell.”

  She inhaled deeply through her nose. It smelled...heavenly. Faintly flowery. She could imagine the dark red liquid rolling over her tongue. “It’s nice,” she said.

  “Now take a sip,” he said.

  Frowning, she explained again, “It’s a Wednesday. I don’t drink on weeknights.”

  He nodded. “Understandable, but I’m not even asking you to have a drink. Just a taste.”

  His eyes burned into hers, and somehow it seemed like they were talking about so much more than wine. Just a taste.

  She kept her eyes locked on Charlie as she tilted the glass to her lips.

  “Take a small sip, and keep it in your mouth,” he said. “Let the wine slide over your tongue, over every taste bud. Experience every flavor before you swallow.”

  She did as he instructed and widened her eyes. The floral scent popped when she tasted it slowly like this.

  “Now, swallow,” he said softly, his gaze narrowed in on her mouth.

  Something about the way he watched her made taking a single sip of wine feel like the most erotic experience of her life. Blood rushed between her legs and she squeezed them together.

  She didn’t want to be attracted to Charlie, but there it was. She wanted him more right now than she’d ever wanted Chaz. Even if she combined all the desire she’d ever had for Chaz, her lust in this moment outweighed it all.

  She licked her lips and he exhaled slowly. Had he been holding his breath?

  He swallowed, leaning back a bit. “What do you think?”

  She thought she’d never enjoyed a sip of wine so much in her life. “I think it tastes…expensive.”

  He shook his head. “You worry too much.” He lifted his glass again. “Another?”

  She nodded and let him lift the glass to her lips. Because she wanted more wine or because she liked the way he looked at her as she drank, she wasn’t sure. Best not to analyze it too much.

  “Let’s dance while we wait for our food,” he said, pushing his chair out as he stood.

  Riley stared at his extended hand, tempted. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

  He took her left hand and ran his thumb over her bare ring finger. “I don’t see why not,” he said, tugging gently.

  She let out a breath. She wasn’t sure where things were going with her and Chaz. Truth be told, she’d been contemplating—in her weaker moments—whether or not she should end their relationship. Something had been…missing. But if this afternoon’s text messages were any indication, things were about to get more interesting between them. Where was that flirtation—no, that fire—when they were together in person? Where had it been for the last two years?

  Charlie led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. At the small of her back, the heat of his hand seeped through the thin cotton of her dress. “Listen, I’m not one to complain when I have a beautiful woman in my arms, but do you want to share what’s worrying you?”

  She chewed on her lower lip. Maybe if she talked about Chaz the whole time, she’d feel less guilty about dancing with Charlie. “I kind of have a boyfriend, you know.”

  Charlie nodded politely but pulled her even closer. His words were whispered in her ear. “
Any man with half a brain would make sure you were his. If you were mine, there would be no kind of about it.”

  She ignored the stirring between her legs. Damn, he was good at that. “We’re taking things slowly.”

  “How’s that going?”

  Over his shoulder, she could see the now-empty wine glass sitting at their table. Hadn’t she stopped drinking on weeknights because Chaz had always given her disapproving looks when she did? And here she was, drinking and dancing with another man on a Wednesday night, and she wasn’t even sure if Chaz would care. “I don’t really know,” she finally answered. “Sometimes I think he’s ready to get serious, and then he backs away. I’m not sure what he wants.”

  “What do you want?” Charlie asked against her ear.

  Riley gaped. “Him of course. He’s great. We have a history. He works for my father too, so he understands the demands of my job. We make a good couple. A good fit.”

  Charlie made a humming sound. “Sounds...practical. What does he do for you?”

  “What do you mean?” She took a shallow breath. She could hardly think when Charlie was this close.

  His mouth grazed the edge of her jaw. “He doesn’t like lingerie, and it’s your secret joy, so I assume he makes up for it in some other way.”

  She licked her lips and tried to block the fingers of pleasure that began where his hand pressed against her back and radiated through her core. This man was everything she didn’t need, and yet her body reacted desperately to every touch. Her ING whimpered about being thirsty and Charlie being just the refreshment she needed.

  “Does he like it rough?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against her ear. “Or maybe he ties you up? Kisses down your body, his mouth against your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipples? Does he put his mouth between your legs and taste you, lick you until you come?”

  Riley closed her eyes against the wicked pleasure betraying her between her legs. “No.” Then because that revealed too much, she said, “I mean, he’s...gentle.”

  “Hm,” he said, but the sound was filled with more condescension than understanding. “What is it about him? Do you like it slow? Thorough? Does he make you feel cherished when he’s moving inside you?” He was asking about Chaz, and yet the words were whispered like foreplay.