Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [57]
Yet as they stepped out into the neon-lit Las Vegas night, sin of a different kind recommenced. “Tell me something,” Damon said as he opened the cab door.
She met his gaze beneath the bright lights. “What’s that?”
“Are your thighs still sticky?”
A fresh wave of lust washed through her as she boldly replied, “Very. And I hope you’ll make them even stickier soon.”
Six
When they exited the cab outside the front doors of the Venetian—where the numerous lanes buzzed with cars, people coming and going, the whole world seeming to congregate in this desert oasis—all Brenna could think of was getting inside, and back into Damon’s pants.
So it surprised the hell out of her when he took her hand and led her away from the lavish entry area, away from the crowds, along a winding sidewalk.
“Um, where are we going?”
Mystery tainted his grin. “It’s a surprise.”
She blinked. “What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll see. Just walk with me.”
Without quite planning it, Brenna locked her arm through Damon’s, and his free hand rose to cover hers. And as they strolled the grounds, finally reaching an expansive white staircase that welcomed pedestrians coming off the Strip, Brenna felt…close to him. Romantically close.
Which she knew was terrible, bordering on tragic.
But Damon’s body next to hers was so snug and cozy, and the night felt too good for her to do anything but bask in it. And see what her surprise was.
The sprawling piazza at the top of the stairs was quiet but for the echo of music wafting from a dance club high above. The hotel’s arched gothic windows and columns rose majestically around them, lit from within. And just like so many times over the past few days, she felt amazingly alone with Damon despite being right in the middle of Sin City.
Still arm in arm, he led her to the gondola landing where all lay dark and still, as well, but for one lone gondolier manning one of the long, ornate vessels.
“I thought you might enjoy a gondola ride,” Damon said.
She swung her gaze from the gathering of narrow boats to his face. The idea was unbelievably sweet, but…“I think they’re closed for the night.”
Yet he gave his head a confident tilt. “For most people.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Most people?”
“I made a call earlier—while you were in the ladies’ room.”
“And…”
His eyes twinkled in the darkness. “I stay here a lot and they seem to like me—in spite of all my bad publicity. They agreed to open the canal for one last ride tonight.”
Just then, the gondolier called up to them. “Mr. Andros?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Thanks for being so accommodating.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir…and miss,” the young man said, nodding to them as Damon led her toward the boat where he stood, pole in hand.
This particular gondola, she noticed, was even more grand than its counterparts, gleaming black with lavish gilt ornamentation framing the plush, black seats. Damon discreetly passed what looked like a sizable wad of money into the gondolier’s fist as Brenna settled into the velvet upholstery.
“Sit back and enjoy,” the gondolier told them, and she’d just noticed his Italian accent when he broke into an elegant operatic serenade that blocked out all other sound—and the rest of the world beyond the canal.
Damon sat close and, as the boat departed the landing, she leaned over to whisper in his ear. “This is so wonderful, Damon—thank you. But…you didn’t have to go to so much trouble. I would have been thrilled with a normal ride tomorrow—one that didn’t cost you an arm and a leg, I’m betting.”
“But I wouldn’t have been,” he said deeply.
“Why not?”
“Because sometimes even I like certain things in private. I wanted to be able to make out with you if I felt like it—and I didn’t think you’d let me in broad daylight.”
Brenna laughed, reminding him, “I just went down on you on top of the freaking Eiffel Tower.”
His eyes locked on her possessively. “Yes, you definitely did. But during the day, people stand around the canal to see the gondolas go by. I didn’t think it was a good idea—unless I want us to show up on the