Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [66]
Afterward, as they were filing out with other theater-goers, Damon said, “Sorry if that was kind of cheesy, but the guy I talked to made that vocalist sound spectacular, so I thought it was worth checking out.”
Brenna let her eyes go wide. “Are you kidding? I loved it! It’s so totally classic Vegas. I had a great time.” And she had. Given that most of the “showgirl shows” were dead and gone now, it pleased her to have seen a little slice of the old Sin City.
Damon just smiled, then wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her to him for a kiss. “Do you know how cute you are?”
She lowered her chin and cast a playful grin. “I thought I was hot.”
“You’re cute and hot,” he assured her. “And if you haven’t noticed, every guy we’ve passed tonight has had his eyes all over you.”
Actually, she had noticed. And she’d been caught between feeling sexy and exciting and carefree…and wondering if they sized her up as a slut, wearing a dress so revealing. Surely, if all those men could see the things she’d done the past few days, they’d believe the latter, but only she knew that she could only have indulged in such behavior with Damon—nobody else.
And as he led her by the hand back out through the casino and onto the street, the hot night air filling her senses, she knew, undeniably, that she was falling in love with him.
But also, of course, that the whole situation remained impossible, no matter how she viewed it.
And that meant she had to get as much of him as she could now, tonight, and in the nights to come. She had to soak him up, absorb him, his body, his mind, those beautiful, beautiful eyes—all of him.
So as they climbed into a cab and Damon instructed the driver to take them to Caesars Palace, she lifted her hand to his face and kissed him, bold, passionate, and unapologetic, without a care if the driver watched in his rearview mirror. Now that it was accompanied with love, her lust for him took on a fresh new urgency that she feared knew no bounds or limits.
“Nice,” he said when the kiss ended.
In reply, she boldly lowered her hand to his thigh, then inward, onto his cock, which grew stiff for her within mere seconds.
His gaze was half amused, half aroused. “You must be looking forward to your surprise.”
“Very much,” she admitted.
At Caesars Palace, they made their way through the casino to a stylish theme bar called Cleopatra’s Barge, crossing a small wooden bridge to step into the floating, boat-shaped club. Darkness had fallen, and it was prime dance time—lights swirled across the floor where twenty- and thirty-somethings moved to a band playing Top 40 hits.
“This is who we’re here to see,” Damon told her as they squeezed through the crowd to reach the bar. “They’re called Razor’s Edge.”
The band was fronted by a pretty blonde, the only female in the group. Over glasses of wine, they watched and listened, and Brenna stayed aware of all the male attention she garnered—and if she wasn’t mistaken, even a few females cast admiring glances. She was starting to think she should wear such daring clothes more often and reminded herself to thank Kelly for making her buy the dress.
Actually, it reminded her again that she had a lot to thank Kelly for—not just shopping help and a hair appointment but the whole concept of seducing Damon. Maybe it would have happened anyway, but somehow she felt as if Kelly’s various forms of prodding had helped bring all this into being.
After half an hour, Brenna set her empty glass on the bar and leaned up to tell Damon over the sound of the music, “I don’t know—they seem like a good bar band, but there’s nothing fresh about them. I know we haven’t heard their original music, but something about them feels very…nineties to me. Am I off the mark?”
Damon drained his own glass and shook his head. “Right on the mark, in fact. I’ve been standing here waiting for them to wow me, but it’s not happening. Good ear, babe.”
After leaving Cleopatra’s Barge hand in hand, they took a cab