Chapter 11
Zoe
My feet are screaming. Tall heels, pinched toes, and a long walk in desert heat makes for one thing. Blisters. Riggs was right. It’s a lot further across the street than I thought. By the time we’re standing in front of the copycat Eiffel tower, I’m regretting the decision to walk. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I stop him so we can take some pictures and give my feet a brief reprieve. Plus, there’s no way I’m admitting I was wrong.
“We’re almost to the restaurant,” he tells me with a knowing smirk.
So much for hiding my discomfort. “Okay, maybe you were right.”
“What’s that?” he teases.
I bump him with my elbow, crinkling my nose. “I said you were right.”
He chuckles, and I swear I can feel the vibrations down in my core. “As long as you realize I’m always right.” He threads his fingers through mine, leading me inside the casino.
I’ve never been to Paris, but I assume whoever designed this place did a good job capturing the feel of the City of Love. From inside, you can see the legs at the base of the Eiffel Tower coming down through the ceiling painted to resemble the sky. The only things that detract from the Parisian experience are the sounds of the slot machines and the nearly dizzying lights they display.
I don’t even know where to look as Riggs leads me through the casino floor and past several bars, pastry shops, and restaurants before stopping in front of a hostess stand. I smile when I see the name of the restaurant.
“I love Martha Stewart,” I gush. Not only did she teach me how to care for my plant babies, but anyone who’s besties with Snoop Dogg has to be cool.
He grins. “I know you do.”
“How?”
“You had a stack of her books and magazines on your desk.” His cheeks turn pink when he admits this.
“I can’t believe you noticed.” Especially since we were otherwise occupied.
He shrugs. “I’m observant.”
“I’ll say.” The fact that he noticed something so small and insignificant sends warm fuzzies to my belly.
I snap several pictures with my phone and look around in awe as the hostess leads us to our table. My mom would love this place. She’s the person who introduced me to all things Martha to begin with. Thinking about Mom makes me sad, so I push those thoughts away. Tonight is about enjoying the gorgeous man at my side in Sin City.
Riggs holds out my chair, then takes a seat across from me once I’m seated. I’ve been on dates before, but nothing compares to this. Riggs is a gentleman in everything he does. I wish we could date for real. If he would give us a chance, I know we could both be happy.
The waiter brings a bottle of wine to the table before I even have a chance to look over the menu. Riggs must have set this up when he made the reservation. We are from such different worlds. I wouldn’t know what to do if the waiter poured a small bit of wine in my class, but Riggs samples it after smelling the cork and swirling it around in his glass. The server waits for Riggs to nod, then pours my glass before filling Riggs’. A perk of being with an older man is that no one bothers to ask for my ID, which is a good thing because I didn’t bring my fake one with me.
“Why didn’t our waiter ask if we wanted an appetizer?” I ask as my stomach growls loud enough to be heard.
“He’s not our waiter,” Riggs tells me.
I widen my eyes. “He’s not?”
“No, he’s a sommelier.”
“What’s that?” I ask, crinkling my nose.
“He specializes in serving wine and giving advice about which one to choose.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth drops open. “That’s a job?” Holy crap. Riggs and I really are from two completely different worlds.
“Silly. Isn’t it?”
I nod, looking around. “This is a little overwhelming.”
“The restaurant?”
“No. You. The clothes and jewelry. Everything,” I admit. “I’m not used to so much, um. . .”
“Excess?” He laughs. “I’m not either. I’m trying to impress you.”
His admission makes me relax. “So, you don’t do this often?”
“Last night I ate a $2 hot dog at Slots-A-Fun and washed it down with a $2 beer. I almost never do fancy stuff.”
I smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re an average person like me.”
He leans closer, dropping his voice. “You are far from average.”
His declaration makes me grin.
By the time I finish my lemon risotto with sea scallops, and Riggs has devoured his 10 oz. filet, I’m feeling the effects of my sour cherry mojito on top of several glasses of wine.
“Do you want dessert?” Riggs asks, signaling to our waiter.
I nod. “That upside-down lemon meringue pie is calling my name.”
He grins. “Let’s split it.”
I study Riggs as he orders us dessert and another round. His dark hair and chocolate eyes make him look like a prince. Add in the way I feel when we’re together, and I’m positive he could be my knight in shining armor.
“I’m a little tipsy,” I admit.
He grins. “Well, you know what they say about what happens in Vegas?”
I give him my most flirtatious smile as I trace my finger the length of his forearm. “What if I don’t want everything to stay in Vegas?” I tease.
He groans, biting his lower lip. “You’re killing me, Zoe.”
“That’s the plan.”
Just when I think he’s going to kiss me, our dessert arrives. “To be continued,” he says with a smile.
“I’m holding you to that.”
One way or another, I’m getting what I want tonight. Riggs.
The music pumps throughout my body. Riggs holds me close as his leg presses between mine, placing delicious pressure at my core as we move in time with the beat. Between the drinks and the dancing, my inhibitions have vanished. I’ve been waiting all night for Riggs to make his move, but it seems like he’s waiting for me.
With the electricity buzzing around us, I snake a hand behind his neck and grip the back of his hair, pulling his face close to mine. “Stop teasing me.”
He traces his hands up my bare spine, then trails his fingertips back down. “Make me.”
My nipples harden against his chest. “Riggs,” I moan.
His mouth crashes into mine, covering my lips. The kiss is slow despite the sudden initiation. He takes his time exploring my mouth with his tongue. Unable to stop myself, I grind against his leg, dragging my silk encased pussy along his muscular thigh. Much more of this, and I’ll come undone on this dance floor.
When he pulls away, he’s smiling. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“I want to keep doing that all night.”
A waitress, carrying shots, interrupts us. We toss them back, not caring how inebriated we’ve become. Riggs guides me off the dance floor with his hand on my lower back. Once we’re outside of the club, we stop to catch our breath.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, hoping the answer is to bed.
“I want to show you more of the strip.”
“Isn’t it getting late?” I have no idea what time it is, but my body is still two hours ahead of this time zone.
“We’re in Vegas. The night is still young.”
“My feet hurt,” I whine.
He scoops me up, holding me close to his chest. “Let’s get you some flip-flops at the drugstore.”
“Put me down,” I holler, tugging the hem of my skirt so it covers my ass.
“I will as soon as we get you some new shoes.”
I toss my head back, laughing. So this is what it feels like to be truly free. I hope this feeling never ends.