1. Blake #2
“Well,” her voice calls out behind me. “You could always buy me another drink if you really want to.”
I stop. That’s nice of her . Real charmer, this one.
There’s a smugness in her tone, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she’s already won.
I exhale sharply through my nose, then turn back around, stepping up beside her at the bar. The barman is still within reach, so I catch his eye and hold up two fingers. “Another round.”
Two fresh glasses hit the bar, and I pick one up, holding it out to her.
She watches me, head tilted, that same amused look still playing on her lips.
It’s not just about the bet with Bishy anymore, this is something else entirely. She’s acting like no one has ever turned her down before. And I don’t think she likes it.
Leaning in, the warmth of her breath hits my ear as she says, “What, you’re seriously not interested in me?”
I let out a slow, almost lazy breath, keeping my expression neutral. Then, low and rough, I answer, “Look, babe, you could strip naked, peel your panties down over those thighs, kick ’em off, and the moment you reach for my belt? Hell, I’d just stop you.”
Shit.
I might have been trying to sell the act, but now I’m selling it a little too well, because fuck me, I just pictured it. This woman, standing there. Just in her underwear.
I blink hard, pushing the image out of my head, but then she laughs like I just told the funniest joke she’s ever heard. She reaches out, her hand settling lightly on my arm as she shakes her head. “Oh my God… of course. You bat for the other…”
“Uh?”
I stare at her.
No. No, no, no.
This is not happening. This whole thing is going completely pear-shaped now.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” I say, voice flat. “I’m straight. Trust me—”
I don’t even get to finish the sentence because then I look at her.
Really look at her. And she’s looking at me, too. “Prove it,” she says as something sharpens in her gaze, something charged. The air between us pulls taut like an invisible rope.
Our heads move, just slightly. Closer. Neither of us blinks.
My fingers tighten around my glass for a half-second before I set it down.
Then I just reach for her. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Now with her in my arms, I tilt her chin up and kiss her. I don’t ask. I don’t wait. I just do it. And fucking hell... to my surprise she actually melts into me. Right into me.
Everything, the bar, the bass, the lights, the crowd, the bet, vanishes.
It’s just her. The warmth of her body pressed against mine. The taste of liquor on her lips. The way she fists the fabric of my shirt, pulling me in like she’s been waiting for this. Like we’ve both been waiting for this.
And then the kiss turns manic. Hotter, as her hands push into my hair, my grip tightens on her waist, and we don’t come up for air, don’t slow down, don’t stop.
This is not how I expected this night to go.
Not even close.
Cassy scrunches my shirt, pulling me in deeper like she wants to consume me. Like she wants me to consume her.
Her body is flush against me, her lips parting under mine, and the heat between us is coiling tighter and hotter. Her fingers slip lower, brushing over my erect manhood in my pants.
Damn, that felt good.
She exhales sharply, her lips breaking from mine just enough to murmur, “Jesus, you’re not, are you?”
I smirk against her neck, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her pulse. “Come on,” I whisper. “I’m staying in this hotel tonight. Let’s go up to my room. Unless…”
She bites my bottom lip, a sly little tease before pulling back, her gaze laced with heat. “Unless nothing, bud.” Her fingers slide into mine, gripping tightly. “You’ve damn well worked me up. Now you’re going to have to finish what you started.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
Still holding her hand, I cut through the crowd, guiding her toward the exit. We slip past dancing bodies, past the flashing neon, the thudding bass, and out through the small, dimly lit reception area of Sin City .
Then we’re in the hotel’s main lobby, bright, chaotic, and packed with people. I barely register any of them. This hot, spoiled, amazing, long-legged blonde is the only thing I see, and as you can imagine, right now? My dick is 100% in control of any brain cells I thought I had.
I don’t know who she is or care as we dart across the floor, heading straight for the elevators, moving fast like we might combust if we don’t make it upstairs soon.
As we wait, I grip her waist and pull her against me, kissing her again, harder this time.
She gasps into my mouth, her fingers twisting through my hair, and her body melting into mine.
Damn… Definitely trouble. With a capital T.
The elevator doors slide open. We practically fall inside, hands everywhere, mouths crashing together like we’ve got seconds left to live. The minute the doors slide shut, I press her against the wall, my hands gripping her hips, my thigh sliding between hers.
Then the doors open again.
Shit.
Two people stand outside, wide-eyed, and decide not to step in.
I jab the button for the twelfth floor. The doors close. We’re moving.
Cassy lets out a breathless laugh, dragging me back down to her.
My lips find her neck and taste the heat of her skin.
She tilts her head back, her breathing uneven.
“You know…” She gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
“I never usually do this…” Another breath, faltering now. “Not… not with a stranger.”
I don’t answer. Because I don’t care. The bet, and what looks like an immense night, is all I’m thinking about.
The elevator dings. Twelfth floor.
I grab her hand, and we head down the corridor, past identical doors, my keycard burning a hole in my pocket.
“No? Me neither!” I lie through my teeth, and we laugh as we reach my room.
I push her up against the door, kissing her again, drinking in the small sounds she makes.
Her hands move fast, undoing my shirt buttons, while I fumble in my pocket and pull out the keycard.
I swipe. The lock clicks open, we stumble inside, and I kick the door shut behind us.
Her mouth crashes into mine again, and her fingers slide under my shirt, her nails scraping along my stomach as I walk her backward. The backs of her legs hit the bed, and before either of us can think, we’re falling onto it, her beneath me, breathless and flushed.
I pin her wrists down against the comforter, holding her there, just for a second. Her chest rises and falls, pupils blown wide as she stares up at me.
Then I lean in, dragging my lips over her shoulder, breathing her in, feeling her shudder beneath me. Her body shifts, pressing up against mine, chasing the friction, making it impossible not to lose myself in this.
My shirt’s in the way. Without breaking contact, I let go of her wrists just long enough to pull it off, letting it drop to the floor. I’m immediately back on her, my hands sliding over the sleek material of her dress, feeling the lithe muscles beneath it..
I kiss her palm, then her wrist, my lips trailing up her arm as my fingers find the zipper of her dress.
A sharp inhale. Then I tug it down.
Her head tips back as I kiss my way over the curve of her collarbone, down to the swell of her chest, taking every inch of her in, feeling the way her body moves beneath me.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice all breath and heat. “You really do want me, don’t you?”
I don’t stop. Don’t answer right away.
Then, against her skin, I murmur, “Uh… no. Told you, you’re not my type.”
Because hell, if she suddenly sits up and laughs, tells me she knew I’d cave, yeah. I need to at least pretend I'm still playing the game.
But then her hands are back on me, pulling me in, working the tight material of her dress down over her hips as I help her out of it.
And when she’s finally there, stripped down to nothing but underwear and smooth, bare skin beneath my hands, I’m amazed.
Damn, her body looks even better in real life than it did in my imagination.
Her hands slide down my stomach to work at my belt.
It does cross my mind to stop her, to pull back, to say, ‘Told you so. ’
But that thought vanishes the second I look at her. This woman. This unbelievably gorgeous, infuriating, impossible woman.
She gets my belt undone, and her fingers move lower, to the button of my pants. Slowly, deliberately, like she’s making damn sure I feel every second of this.
I groan against her throat, kissing my way down to the lace covering her breasts and dragging my tongue over the black fabric, feeling the way her body arches up into mine.
My pants? Yeah, those are gone. Kicked off somewhere. I barely even notice because she’s looking at me now, staring down at what’s left between us.
Her lips part. Her breath catches. Then, in a voice that’s near trembling, she whispers, “Damn…you are a big boy, aren’t you?”
I smirk and lean back down, brushing my lips over hers and feeling her shudder beneath me.
“Too much for you?”
Her eyes flick up to mine, flashing with something that looks a hell of a lot like another challenge.
I don’t wait for the answer.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, harder, as my hands slide around her back, finding the clasp of her bra, and unhooking it.
Cassy's breath breaks as the fabric loosens; her eyes lock onto mine. There's more than a spark there. It's more like need and desire. She doesn't look away.
Instead, she lets the straps slip down her shoulders, the lace falling away to reveal skin that's smooth and flawless. Her breasts are pert, perfect, and I can't help but admire the view.
“You're staring,” she whispers, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Can you blame me?” I lean back down, pressing my lips just above her breasts, feeling her heartbeat quicken under my touch. I move to the other side, repeating the gesture, before gently biting her nipple.
“Ouch...” She lets out a quiet moan, her back arching slightly.