Chapter 9
Zoe
I’ve never been to Vegas, so my head is on swivel during the drive from the airport to our hotel. It’s dusk, making the lights sparkle, giving the place an air of theatrics that’s irresistible. Too bad I’m not twenty-one yet. I almost say as much to Riggs, but decide against it. That’s a bitter reminder he doesn’t need right now. I don’t want him to think about our age difference. Not when his arm is casually around my shoulders, and he’s tracing his fingertip along the skin of my bicep. The distance he’s tried to keep over the last few months has evaporated. There’s no way I’m doing something that’ll bring it back.
“Are you hungry?” His lips are close to my ear, and his breath caresses my neck, causing my entire body to come to life.
I turn my head to answer, and our lips are a fraction of a millimeter apart. The moment he realizes this, his pupils dilate. He moves his hand to cup the back of my head before lifting his chin and placing a kiss on my forehead. I lean my head against his shoulder so he doesn’t see the disappointment on my face. His rejection stings. Why won’t he kiss me?
“I’m starving,” I murmur, closing my eyes.
“I’ll get us dinner reservations. We can drop off your things and then eat before I show you Vegas.” He strokes my hair, causing me to shift even closer to him.
“I’d like that,” I say, still not looking at his face.
He rests his head on mine, the air between us buzzing from the sexual tension between us. “What are we doing?” he whispers.
I place a hand on his thigh, tracing the firm muscle beneath the denim. “Fighting a losing battle.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He sounds sad, like he knows that once he gives in to the heat between us, he’ll break me. Or maybe, that I’ll break him.
I look up, holding his gaze. “Then let’s stop fighting. At least for tonight.”
We drive up to the hotel, breaking the moment building between us. Riggs pulls away, and I want to scream at the loss. The only time I feel whole is when I’m in his arms. Too bad he’ll never give in and allow us what we both want. He has far too much discipline to let that happen.
As I follow him inside, the beauty of the casino lobby distracts me from the sting of Riggs’ rejection in the car. “Is that Dale Chihuly?” I ask, pointing to the glass decorating the ceiling in front of the check-in desk.
Riggs shrugs. “I have no idea. Art isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”
“It’s beautiful.” I stare at it in awe.
“You’re beautiful.” He says it in a way that makes me think he doesn’t know he said it out loud.
I blush, but don’t say anything, afraid if I do, he’ll realize he shouldn’t tell me things like that. His secret confessions do too much to my heart for me to stop them. He takes my hand, leading me toward a bank of elevators.
The sounds and pulse of the casino invade my soul, making me feel like a completely different person. This version of me isn’t grieving the loss of my father, whose death split apart my family. This me is untamed and ready for adventure. More than anything, I want that adventure to include the man at my side.
Once inside the elevator, I study Riggs. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a green t-shirt, but he still looks like he belongs in a magazine, which makes sense because he’s in magazines often. His good looks are refined, and I know it’s from the money he’s made over the years. I look down at my cutoffs and Birkenstocks, suddenly feeling like I don’t belong with him.
He takes my chin, tilting my face up so I’ll look at him. “Hey, what happened? You’re sad again.”
I blink back the tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t belong here.”
“What?”
I gesture to my outfit. “Look at me. I look like a raggedy college student.” What I don’t say, but we both know, is that I am one. And he’s a man. No matter what we might feel toward each other, we don’t belong together.
“Baby, we can buy whatever you need.” He pulls out his phone and types something. When he’s finished, he slides it into his pocket. “There. Tonight’s taken care of. Tomorrow we can go shopping for whatever you need.”
“I can’t let you–”
He places his finger to my lips. “Don’t argue with me. Otherwise, I’ll have to spank you for talking back.” A sexy grin spreads across his face, making my panties wet with desire.
He may be teasing, but my core grows tight at the thought of him spanking me. I’m fully aware that I have daddy issues and would benefit from more therapy than the six weeks my mom forced upon me right after my dad’s suicide attempt and the addition twelve after he died months later. I just can’t bring myself to talk to someone about how lost I feel when it was a thousand times worse for my mom. Her grief eclipses mine because she lost her partner and had to be his caregiver at the end. Yeah, I lost my dad, but I feel bad being sad when it was so much harder for her. My brother seems to be okay. He’s close to Stone, and I think that helps. Me? I’m on my own. Why can’t I seem to get it together?
“Zoe?” Riggs gestures to the elevator door he holds open, waiting for me to exit.
I shake my head. “Sorry. I was thinking about. . .” I don’t want to tell him the truth. It’s a buzzkill. Instead, I place my hand on his chest, leaning close. “You mentioned a spanking,” I whisper.
He groans. “You’re a naughty girl.”
“You like it.”
“You have no idea.”
I expect him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He takes my hand and leads me down the hall, stopping in front of the door to his room. I knew this was one of the nicest hotels on the strip, but I’m in awe when he opens the door and I see the room. It’s gorgeous.
Luxurious and elegant are the first two words that spring to mind. My eyes immediately focus on the king-sized bed. I imagine the plush bedding rumpled from a night together. To keep from moaning at the images in my head, I have to bite down on my lower lip.
The best part of the room is the large window. The curtains are open, showcasing the fountains below. Riggs comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Just wait until the show starts.” His breath dances across my cheek, causing my nipples to peak.
I push my hips back, smiling when I feel how hard he is against my lower back. No matter how many times he tells me we can’t be together, he can’t hide how much he wants me. He can’t resist this thing growing between us forever. No one is that strong.
He pulls away when he realizes I can feel just how much he desires me and gestures toward the king-sized bed. “I hope this is okay. I can get you your own room if you don’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with me.”
“I don’t mind sharing.” Is he kidding? I want nothing more than to crawl into that bed with him right now and sully the sheets.
I think back to the night he gave me a ride home from the bar and we wound up in bed together. If I hadn’t stupidly admitted my hymen is still intact, there’s no doubt he would’ve fucked me senseless. Instead, he apologized for letting things get so far and showed himself the door. Still, our age difference hasn’t mattered all the times we’ve texted back and forth or stayed up talking on the phone until sunrise.
No.
Through the filter of the phone, we can pretend to be other people. He’s not a thirty-something, former motocross champion who’s still very much in the public eye, and I’m not a college student who’s his daughter’s age. In those moments, we’re Riggs and Zoe, two people who are inexplicably drawn to one another like opposite ends of a magnet.
“Your dress for tonight will be delivered in an hour. I also have someone coming to do your hair and makeup.” He looks around, unsure what to do with his hands, so he shoves them into his pockets. “Why don’t you shower while we wait?”
“What are you going to do?” I wish I knew what to say to keep him from pulling away again. Why is he so nervous?
“I’m going to change while you’re in the shower. I have a quick errand to run before dinner. By the time I’m finished, you’ll probably be ready, so I’ll meet you in the lobby.” I must look nervous about navigating the large casino on my own because he reconsiders. “On second thought, I’ll pick you up at the door, like a proper date.”
I grin. “Sounds perfect.” I hope he really does think of this as a date.
Our first date.
It’s not until I’m shampooing my hair that I realize I never asked how he knew what size dress to order me.