Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [12]
He offered a knowing smile. “Look at it this way. Las Vegas is…Disney World for adults.”
“But instead of Mickey and Minnie, here they have…strippers and whores?”
He laughed lightly. “Something like that. Anything goes here.” He lowered his voice, looked her in the eye. “Anything.”
And something in the way he said that last word made her wet all over again. Wet and hungry.
She suffered the insane urge to reach across the table, grab him, and tell him she wanted him, in private or even in public—that despite all her claims, that part didn’t even matter right now.
Yikes, talk about your visceral physical reaction to a man!
New rule: Don’t drink in his presence—it brings out the bad girl in you.
Interesting, because she’d never known there was a bad girl in her.
“More wine?” he asked. “I can order another bottle.”
She held up her hand. “Thanks, but no.”
“You sure?”
“Very sure.” Sure I’m going to self-combust before the evening is through.
Because that bad girl she’d just found was barely holding herself in check. Her whole body pulsed with wanting—and an uncharacteristic sense of wild abandon. And maybe it was the wine. And maybe it was Damon. And maybe it was this place, this lusty, lavish, sinful place.
But worse, maybe it was all of it—mixing and gelling together to bring out an untamed sexual response she’d never before experienced.
And if that was the case, it was going to be a very long week.
Three
The cab ride back to the hotel was too hot—the windows were down, no AC going—but Brenna’s main focus was the fact that Damon sat with his legs apart, the way guys often did, and his denim-clad knee touched hers.
Insane how a tiny touch like that could make her so hot inside, too.
They didn’t speak—the cabbie had techno music blaring, making the car’s seat pulse beneath her. But as they passed through the Venetian’s vast floral-scented lobby a few minutes later, Damon told her to come to his suite the next morning. They would order breakfast in the room, he said, then spend the day going over Blue Night’s various contracts—she would learn what she could offer, which terms were flexible and which were not.
She tried to concentrate on their conversation but found it difficult as they made their way onto the elevator with three young, good-looking, jock-type guys. As the elevator rose skyward, she found herself feeling all the “maleness” around her, and at the same time feeling so utterly “female” that she could barely understand it.
She liked sex, of course, but she had never been a woman who got hungry for it. Hungry without rhyme or reason, as if she simply had to have it and would take it in any form in which it came. But that’s how she suddenly felt in the confines of the elevator that seemed to swirl with testosterone. That’s how she felt after spending a mere couple of hours with Damon Andros. She knew he was hot, but she couldn’t believe she was suffering such a crazy reaction to the guy!
When the elevator doors opened on their floor, she stepped out, her body moving with that fluid sense of ease that came with just a little intoxication. Only now she didn’t know if she remained drunk from the wine, or if she was only drunk on Damon.
When he walked her to her door, she turned to look up and found him standing close, his gaze on her mouth.
It made her want to kiss him. Hard.
Made it so that kissing him, pressing against him, rubbing her body against his, seemed the only natural, sensible thing to do.
And when he lifted his eyes to hers, that only made it worse. Because his expression said that if she did kiss him right now, he would respond. He was so near that she could almost feel him without touching him, and his musky masculine scent filled her senses.
But kissing him would be stupid, stupid, stupid. You have to work with him day and night for a week—possibly longer. And you’re stealing his job. You cannot kiss