Chapter Fourteen
Ava
“Sir?” Our heads snap in unison toward the voice as we walk hand in hand in the Vegas heat toward the car. “You’ve got a flat here.”
The silver and gold sequined dress I’m still wearing from the photoshoot at Reese’s command makes a swishing sound with each step. It’s highly impractical, but I can’t stop myself from feeling like a glamorous, exotic model on the arm of her billionaire lover.
Husband. God, husband.
Vegas can change a person.
A security officer from the office building is pointing toward the passenger front tire as I feel Reese’s body stiffen.
“What the fuck.” He squeezes my hand before releasing my fingers, stepping around the trunk of the Mercedes, his head cocking, eyes following the sight line where the man in the blue uniform is pointing. “Can you fix it? Fast?”
Reese’s jaw muscles shift and clench as he stares down the young security guard who shakes his head. “Sorry, I can’t leave my post. We’re short-staffed, but I’ve got a limo service we use here. They’ve got a car and a driver—”
“Get him here. Now,” Reese barks at the poor guy, his frustration showing in the tightness of his brow and the way his fingers curl and uncurl. “We have somewhere we need to be.”
His eyes dart my way and the residual wet warmth between my legs returns with that magic thumping below my belly button.
I swallow down the gathering saliva, remembering how he tasted when he came in my mouth and how I tasted on his lips when he kissed me after showing me just how magical a tongue can be.
“Yes, sir.” The young man turns away, bringing his phone to his ear after tapping the screen. “Bring it around.”
Five minutes later, we are secured in the back of a double stretch Hummer limo with multi-colored LED lights embedded in the ceiling above where we are sitting along the back of the expansive space.
“So fucking tacky.” Reese shakes his head. “I feel like some douche on his bachelor weekend.”
He snakes a hand around the back of my neck, his grip tightening as his eyes narrow, locking onto the hint of my exposed cleavage.
“It’s fun.” I look around the ceiling. “I mean, I’ve never been in a car with a stripper pole in it before.”
I shrug toward the brass centerpiece of the passenger area, wiggling in the white leather seat. The dress Reese chose for me to wear out of the photoshoot is a size too small, compressing my curves under the sequined black and gold fabric.
His eyes lighten as I do a little shimmy. Then his thumb traces tiny circles on the side of my neck just behind my ear, and it translates into lovely tingling between my legs.
“You’d look great on that pole,” he says, licking those magnificent lips, his cologne nipping at my nose and making my nipples harden. “Matches your dress. Like you were made for each other.”
Heat zings over my skin as that feral look in his eyes returns.
“I don’t dance,” I say, chastising myself for saying anything about the damn pole. “Like, really, I could use that pole to hang on in a storm, but not to dance.”
“Oh, baby.” His lips warm the shell of my ear, forcing my head to fall back into his hand. “I’ll be the pole you hang onto in a storm from now on. Just dance for me. I’ll send two million to the kitten rescue. Double what we agreed on, for just one dance.”
My eyes snap wide.
Two million.
How many kittens and cats could be saved with that money?
Before my brain can stop me, I nod. “Two million. As soon as the dance is over, you send them the money, how ever you do that. Debit or credit?”
I scratch at the side of my head, realizing just how much of a fish out of water I am in his world of wealth.
I’m his wife. So, isn’t it our world of wealth now?
That thought intrudes on my happy moment. Am I really his wife? I mean, a man like Reese would surely have lawyers drawing up pre-nups if this was truly a marriage, right?
I do my best to push away the clouds raining down on my happy, if somewhat na?ve and oblivious, moment.
“I’ll worry about the logistics, just get that sweet ass of yours on that pole.” He lets go of my neck, reaching toward a brass panel on the side wall of the limo, pressing a few buttons until music is blasting all around us, and the LED lights pulse and flicker in time with the pumping base of the music.
Reese’s hands slip to my waist, easing me onto the five-inch strappy stilettos as the Hummer glides smoothly down the freeway toward the hotel. Vegas streaks by outside the windows, but Reese is focused on me. Leaning back in a full man spread, he snaps his tongue over his teeth as I shuffle in precarious steps toward the pole until my fingers loop around the cool metal. I instantly feel a sense of security with the solidness of the pole in my hands.
“Stunning wife. The kittens appreciate you. And so do I.”
The music shifts into a pumping, soulful rhythm, and I’m thankful for the small favor of the slower tempo.
I test the waters with a slow turn while gliding my hands higher on the pole until my body is stretched, and I arch my back, pressing my ass toward the side windows.
Reese looks mesmerized, encouraging a sudden surge of power to bolt through me. I take a side step, easing my chest into my pole, leaning and pumping my hips to the beat of the music, all while watching my new husband come undone.
One of his hands lazily rests on top of the zipper of his pants, palming what I know is that glorious, hard length I’ve already come to crave.
“Take the straps off,” he orders, clearing his throat. “Slowly, wife. Nothing with you will be rushed.”
Warmth surges through my core, settling in an undulating ball in my belly as I turn my back to him, my hands gripping the pole as I slide down. With my knees bent, I release one hand hold and ease the thin strap of the dress down my shoulder, tipping my head back to see Reese opening the front of his trousers.
“Fuck.” His voice mixes with the vulgar, rapping lyrics as the Hummer takes an easy turn, slowing as Reese’s eyes are drawn for a moment toward the window. “Fuck,” he says again, only the word means something far different than when he said it the first time.
Fuck is such a versatile word.
His pants are zipped in a blink. “Come back here,” he barks, doing his best to stand in the confined space, unlike what my short stature allows.
He’s half bent over as he reaches for my hand, easing me back into the seat next to him. Slapping the little media panel on the door, he cuts the music off, leaving my ears ringing in the silence. My heart pumps double-time from both the thrill of being on a pole for the first time and from the dangerous darkness in Reese’s eyes.
“This motherfucker,” he grinds out between clenched teeth as the vehicle takes another sharp turn. Out the window, I see a warehouse with five armed men in black suits standing outside, their guns drawn and pointed at the limo. “Fucking Leon.”
“What’s happening?” I manage as fear floods my body.
Something is wrong.
“Seems our flat tire and the convenient limo waiting for us was a set-up.” Reese reaches over and tugs the strap still dangling down my arm up onto my shoulder. “It’s business, baby. Just stay next to me. No matter what happens, do not leave my side.”
His face twists in anger as a man in a cheetah print jacket and leather pants emerges from the door of the warehouse. The limo comes to a stop, and Reese’s fingers squeeze mine as panic wraps around my throat.
“Who is that?” The small man steps forward, waving at the car, and in his hand is a pet carrier.
A single paw presses out from between the metal grid of the door.
Cream and white.
The car stops. The man comes closer. My eyes stay locked on the little paw.
Reese is talking, but his words melt into the pumping of my heart as I count the number of toes on the cat’s paw.
Seven little toes spread wide like they are reaching for me. As the sunlight breaks through the front of the carrier, the face of a scared feline makes the world stop spinning.
“Max.” I grab at the door handle, throwing my body across Reese’s lap, tugging as the door pops open. “He’s got my cat. Why does he have my cat?”
Fear blinds me as the Vegas heat swoops through the open door. I kick off my shoes and lunge onto the hot pavement with Reese’s hand sweeping around my waist.