Chapter 2
Brooks
I ’m lost in thought, still preoccupied with the fiery brunette from earlier, when the server stares expectantly at me, waiting for my order. I glance down at the menu, realizing that I’ve been holding onto it for a good five minutes without even reading it. All I can think about is her perfume still lingering in my nose. Trying to refocus, I quickly blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. A hamburger .
The server leaves, and Jared tents his fingers in front of him, his expression curious. “A hamburger? Since when do you order a hamburger at a steak restaurant? Where’s your head at?”
That’s a good question. The coffee-stealing thief has hijacked my thoughts since I walked away from her, and I can’t seem to focus on anything else other than that intoxicating scent and the image of her luscious lips.
“Gray.”
His brows furrow. “What’s Gray?”
More like, who is Gray?
I’ve had women pull all kinds of stunts to get my attention, so her little tactic wasn’t as surprising as she might have thought. Original, I’ll give her that. One thing is for sure, the green-eyed, brunette beauty definitely grabbed hold of my attention.
And still hasn’t let go.
“Some woman I met tonight at the coffee shop. Invited her to the party.”
His head jerks in my direction. “Asshole, it’s my bachelor party. Unless she’s a stripper, why are you inviting a woman?”
“What the hell does it matter? We’ll be at a nightclub, not a fucking poker game. And I’m sure there’ll be plenty of women around us. Who cares if it’s one I invited?”
I’m in Vegas for one weekend.
No responsibilities.
No judgments.
No rules.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
And I hope Gray happens.
* * *
Dinner was only a couple of floors below the club. As we pass the long line of people waiting to get in, I scan it, searching. Hoping. But when we make it to the front, I swallow my disappointment. I flick my wrist to glance at the time. Eleven.
It’s still early, Brooks. Calm down, killer.
She’ll be here. Especially when she sees I’m CEO of one of the largest marketing firms in North America. A quick internet search and she’ll find out that I’m worth a lot of money. Handing her my business card, attached with an invite, is like winning the lottery. Let’s get real, my ego’s not that large, it’s just been proven women see me as their meal ticket. Which is why I’m thirty-two and not married. But that’s not to say I don’t use it to my advantage sometimes.
Like tonight.
As the night moves on, my mood sours. Midnight and no text or call. I keep an eye on things from the sidelines as the guys dance with many women, counting the minutes until I can leave. I can’t figure out why I’m so pissed, which pisses me off even more. A two-minute interaction with a woman shouldn’t have this effect on me. But I’ve taken on the job to make sure Jared keeps his dick in his pants. Not that he wouldn’t, but just in case, I’m keeping his hands busy with drinks rather than women. Anabel would castrate us both if Jared cheated on her.
Somehow , it would be my fault.
Chase plops down across from me, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “They need to pump the air up in this place.” He turns in his chair to see Jared dancing with four women. “Our boy is having a hell of a time. Should we worry?”
“Pshh.” I whistle. “If he was dancing on one girl, maybe. Four, he wouldn’t have a clue how to handle all of them. He’s just having fun.” Chase laughs and nods because he knows I’m right. Jared’s the straight and narrow one out of all of us.
Hands cover my eyes from behind, startling me. “What’s your poison?” the woman murmurs into my ear, sending a spark to my dick, instantly cheering me up. “Seems I owe you something.”
Gray.
Despite wanting to tell her she might very well be my poison, I settle for a whiskey.
As soon as she lifts her hands, I turn in my chair and watch her stroll toward the bar. A simple, tight black dress outlines her slim body and her heart-shaped ass. Long, chocolate-curled locks hang down her back, and my fingers itch to run through them.
“Is that the chick you invited?” Chase asks, leaning forward on his elbows.
I nod, watching her interact with the bartender. He leans over the bar and gives her a hug, and I realize she got into the VIP area without me.
“She got a sister?”
I shrug, more excited that she’s here than I should be. “She was with another woman when I met her.” Truthfully, I don’t remember what she looked like. My focus was on Gray the entire time, like right now.
When she turns around with a drink in each hand, I pull in a quick breath at the sight. Her backside is definitely a marvelous sight, but from the front … damn. And it’s not because her top is so low-cut it reveals her perfectly round tits, or the four-inch black heels she’s wearing that show off her toned calves and long legs. Don’t get me wrong, she’s downright gorgeous.
But it’s the way she’s looking at me.
There’s no ulterior motive behind her playful smile, unlike the fake women I deal with daily. The ones that will do anything to get a ring on their finger and a high-dollar bank account with their name on it. No, she’s only here for a good time.
To which I can oblige.
Gray takes a sip of my drink before handing it to me, and I lift a brow. She bites her lip and innocently shrugs one shoulder. “Habit.” I want to bite that lip for punishment.
Our fingers brush for a moment, and my pulse picks up speed. Damn, one touch. Just think what’ll happen when I’m inside her.
She sits down in the chair between Chase and me. “Hey, I’m Gray.”
She stretches her hand out, and Chase slips his into it with a goofy smile plastered on his face. She seems to have that effect on everyone. Thankfully, she turns back to me because I was already concocting a plan to kill Chase if he didn’t stop touching her.
She crosses her legs and sits back like she’s sitting on a throne, her confidence palpable and sexy as hell. “So, Brooks Handley, what brings you to Las Vegas?”
I point to the dance floor. “Bachelor party.”
“And I bet he’s the groom?” I nod when she looks back at me. “I’m surprised you’re not at a strip club.”
“That’s what I said,” Chase barks.
“We promised the fiancée we wouldn’t.”
“Wow. Guys with morals. Why come to Sin City?”
“There’s obviously more than strippers in Vegas,” I say with a pointed grin.
She laughs. “But you didn’t come here to meet me.”
That I didn’t.
But who am I to argue about unexpected surprises?
“Wanna dance?” she asks after finishing her drink. Pushing off the chair, she walks over to stand in between my legs and looks down at me with her petite hand stretched out.
My hand swallows hers, and she stares at our joined hands for a beat before she tugs, helping me up. At full stance, her head barely hits my chin even with her wearing fuck-me heels.
“Ready for me to show off my dance skills?” I rotate my hips, making her laugh.
“Should I be afraid?”
Still holding her hand, I lead her out to the floor, and say over my shoulder, “Very.”
I pull her close, our bodies moving to the beat of the song. As my fingers grace the edge of her dress, skimming the exposed skin of her lower back, a shiver runs up her spine, and I feel it reverberate through me. Her eyes, a bright green that glows like the northern lights, meet mine and there’s a stillness in the air, a magnetic pull I wasn’t expecting.
She wrinkles her cute button nose, and I notice the freckles dusted lightly across it. Innocence is hidden by the sexual vibes the rest of her body is radiating. And I’m here for the ride.
As she twists her hips against me, I mimic the motion. “You’ve got some moves,” she says, lifting on her toes, closer to my ear so I can hear her over the music.
I casually shrug. “It pays the bills.”
“Who knew I’d need dollar bills tonight?”
I let out a throaty chuckle. I’ll strip for you, for free. “Show starts at two.”
I don’t miss the heat in her eyes, and I wonder how far she’ll take this. Hopefully, all the way to the bedroom.
“The CEO gig didn’t work out, huh?” she teases, running her fingers down my chest and then wrapping her arms around my waist.
I shake my head as I feel the heat between our bodies rise. Her leg rubs against my hard cock, and it takes effort to remain in control. “Chippendales was my calling. What can I say?”
She buries her face into my chest, laughing.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I do. That is one show I won’t miss.”
Damn straight.
Show’s in an hour .