Dirty Sex (17 page)

think it’s time to slow down, bro.”

“I think it’s time to go clubbin’.” He started making music and

dancing by himself.

Reese glanced at me and I nodded. “Okay, we’ll go clubbin’. I

want to get something out of the room first though.” She took him by

the arm and steered him out of the casino. In the elevator, he fell asleep

on my shoulder. We got him to the room and dumped him on the couch.

“All right, you ready to go?” I asked before he even hit the

cushions.

“Go where?”

“The club downstairs. It’s supposed to be cool.” Reese looked

pointedly at Ryan. “Just turn him on his side.” I’d lost her.

• 123 •

AShley BArtlett

“His side?”

“So if he pukes he won’t choke.” She grimaced at my explanation.

I went to the bar, grabbed a bottle of water, and set it on the table next to

Ryan. Then I turned him on his side. “There, he’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, come on.” Reluctantly, she followed me to the door.

❖

The club was dark, as they should be, and seething with the sort

of sexuality that only youth and misunderstood immaturity can inspire.

We passed through a lounge of sorts, down a subtly lavish hallway,

and descended into Tryst. There was a waterfall, we were told, but that

didn’t interest me.

“Let’s dance.” My grip on Reese tightened as she walked with

me and I dragged her to the floor, the booze in my system making me

stupid and bold.

Reese didn’t pull away like I expected. She moved closer and,

upon reflection, put her arms around my shoulders. The song was

heavy, thick, like sweat, and desperate. When Reese’s leg pressed

between mine, I didn’t even consider it. I just pulled her against me

tighter. We moved like that, pushed closer by the crowds, not caring

about our precarious embrace. Her warm breath on my neck was

indistinguishable from the hot air in the club, except I knew it was hers.

My heartbeat was probably visible under my no longer crisp shirt. Her

hand slid down and rested just above my breast, over my heart, and I

knew she could feel it. Those dark eyes looked up at mine, shot through

with gray, like Ryan’s had been. Reese wasn’t drunk though and she

wasn’t mad either. She was something else.

I was going to make an ass of myself. There was no way I could

play off a botched kiss or grope as a drunken mistake. I’d need a lot more

booze to pull that off. Resigned to the insatiable hunger I was feeling,

I just kept dancing. It bordered on pain considering my increasingly

swollen clit and how my nipples rubbed against my unforgiving shirt.

As if Reese knew, she pressed closer so her lips hovered above my

neck. I needed something to distract myself, anything.

Ryan. The twins were practically indistinguishable from each

other. I just had to tell myself it was him. I was dancing with Ryan. That

• 124 •

Dirty Sex

was harmless. That curtain of silky hair was his. The hands roaming

my body, Ryan’s. That flash of opulent eyes, my best friend. Thinking

about Ryan was like a cold shower. Painful and only slightly effective.

I couldn’t do it.

“I need a drink.” I dropped back a step.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Me too.”

I nodded and took her hand to drag her behind me to the bar. “Two

single malts,” I shouted to the bartender. When they were placed before

me, I downed mine in one gulp and asked for another. It went in one

smooth swallow as well. I’d barely picked up the third when Reese

dragged me away and put me at a table.

“You okay there?” There was almost some concern in her voice.

“Fine. Just warm.” That was sort of truthful.

“That probably won’t help.” She tried pulling on my hand. “Come

on. Let’s dance some more.”

“I’m good for now, thanks.” If I went back out there with her,

there was a good chance I’d embarrass myself. The third drink was

even easier.

“Come on.”

“Really, thank you. I’m good.” I was begging her to let me alone.

She didn’t see it that way.

“Fine. Have fun.”

I saluted her with the glass she left behind then emptied it.

❖

Her hands were buried in my hair. There’s something about styling

your hair that just makes chicks want to mess it up. I pushed my tongue

into her mouth and out again, a teasing promise for later. She had great

lips. I slid my hands up the outside of her thighs inching her skirt higher.

I was considering taking her to the bathroom to finish the job when

someone grabbed the back of my shirt and jerked me away. Not again.

“I want to go,” Reese said. Her eyes shot back and forth between

me and the girl I was making out with.

“So go,” I said. I didn’t need to hold her hand.

“You need to take me up to the room.” Demanding.

“Sorry.” The girl removed my hand from her skirt. “I didn’t mean

to get in the middle of anything.”

• 125 •

AShley BArtlett

“You didn’t,” I assured her.

“Cooper.” Reese looked like she could kill.

“Damn it, Reese. What?”

“Take me back to the room.”

“Fine.” I turned to the girl. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look too upset.

“Can we go now?” Reese started to drag me out of the club.

I managed to restrain myself until we were in the elevator. “What

the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” She managed to look innocent.

“Yes. Your fuckin’ problem,” I shouted. “Why’d you drag me out

of there?”

“You needed help.”

“Help?” Reese nodded. “Help with what?”

“That trashy chick was all over you.” She turned away. “You’re

welcome.”

“I’m welcome?” I grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to

face me. “Did it occur to you that my hand was up her skirt?” Reese

glared at the hand gripping her shoulder. “And the fact that I was

kissing her might have been an indication that I was having fun?” The

elevator door opened.

“Oh, please. She was nasty. I did you a favor.” Reese lowered her

already calm voice as we walked through the hallway.

“A favor?” I had no intention of lowering my voice to indulge her.

“Right. You just wanted me out of there. I’ve got no fucking idea why.”

“It is a little rude to ditch someone you go to a club with to make

out with some disgusting girl.” Reese’s etiquette for the insane.

“Yeah, if we were on a date.” I opened the door to our room. “But

we weren’t on a fucking date.”

“It’s still rude.”

“You know what? Just lay off, okay?” She turned her back on me.

“And, Reese.” She stopped walking. “You can’t manipulate me like

you do everyone else. Remember that.”

She spun to face me. “You can’t control yourself. What makes you

think you have any control over me?”

“You’ve got issues, buttercup.”

“You have issues.”

With that, we went into our rooms and slammed the doors.

• 126 •

Dirty Sex

The next afternoon when I woke up, Ryan was gone. In his

place was a note.
Went for stuff. Back tomorrow morning.

Great.

I had no intention of being there when Reese’s door opened. Since

it was almost three in the afternoon, that would probably be soon. I

changed and was about to leave for the pool. My hand was on the door

when I turned back. The guilt was killing me and I didn’t even know

what I was guilty about. I picked up the phone and ordered some room

service for Reese’s breakfast. Just some fruit and other stuff Reese

liked. When it arrived, I wrote a note explaining where I was, but with

no overt remorse. Then I went down to the pool feeling slightly less

terrible.

I’d only been there twenty minutes when one of the ever-present

waitresses brought me a mimosa.

“I, uh, didn’t ask for that.” A mimosa sounded damn good, but I

wasn’t sure where it came from.

“It was sent from a Ms. DiGiovanni,” was her explanation before

floating away.

I guess that meant we’d forgiven each other. For another twenty

minutes, I procrastinated in the sun sipping my drink. It was boring by

the pool. And hot. I decided to suck it up and go back to the room.

“Hey,” I called when I opened the door.

“Hey,” Reese responded. The suite smelled like her shampoo and

she was only wearing a towel. That was trouble. “Thanks for breakfast.”

• 127 •

AShley BArtlett

“Uhh, yeah. No problem.” I tried not to stare at the towel knotted

above her breasts. No, fuck that. I tried not to stare at her breasts. “I’m

gonna jump in.” I indicated the shower. She nodded.

When I emerged from the bathroom with wet hair, Reese was

dressed in tight, cuffed Bermuda shorts and a loose V-neck T-shirt with

nothing underneath it. The outline of her fantastic nipples was just

barely visible.

“You want to walk the Strip?” Reese asked without looking at me.

I pretended to deliberate. She turned to look at me. “If we stay here

we’re just going to drive each other crazy. So we may as well blow a

couple hundred bucks.” It was a convincing argument. “If we go, you

can play on the opposite side of the casino. You won’t even have to see

me.” She was joking. I was almost sure of it.

“Just don’t let me drink any booze.” Because I might do something

stupid.

“Me either. I’m already going to be hung over for a week.”

“I’ll be right back. I need clothes.” At her nod, I went into my

room. If we were walking the Strip, I needed to blend. Cargo shorts, my

favorite western shirt, and flip-flops.

“You look like a tool,” Reese said when I came out.

“What? You don’t like the shirt?” I finished closing the little pearly

snaps. What was wrong with western shirts?

“It’s so been done.”

“Not like this, buttercup.” I looked good. Fuck her. “And you’re

the one who looks like a tool.” Mature.

“Witty, that’s why I like you.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Reese slid a folded stack of crisp hundred dollar

bills into my pocket. Her fingertips dragged over my thigh through

the cotton. My head went light. “Let’s go.” Dutifully, I followed her

downstairs and onto the street.

“Do you think I should learn how to count cards?” I asked as we

started walking.

“Assuming you could, which you can’t, definitely not.”

“It might be fun.”

“Until a guy named Vinny with a thick neck wants to discuss it.

This is Vegas, sweetheart.” She had a point.

• 128 •

Dirty Sex

“Why are you always so condescending?” I slid an arm around

her shoulders, presumably so we wouldn’t be separated by the crowds.

Really, I just wanted to annoy her.

“Because you’re inferior,” came the simple answer.

“Thank God I make up for it in looks.” That got my arm removed

real quick.

“So do you want to walk all the way down and then work our way

back up? We can grab some food on the way if we get hungry.”

It sounded like a good plan so that was what we did. In every

casino, Reese lost me right away, and when I got bored, I could always

find her at the poker tables. Maybe she was addicted and didn’t know it.

When I had to start carrying her chips for her because her pockets were

too full, I realized the real reason. She was damn good at it.

“Why aren’t you cashing these in again?” My pockets were getting

full, making my shorts weighty. I should have worn a belt.

“Because the chips are easier than a stack of cash.” Both seemed

cumbersome. “What’s wrong with them? I like the chips. They have a

feel to them.” Descriptive.

“I didn’t know you were so good.”

“Surprised me too. Want to get some food?” If she thought I

wasn’t going to notice the subject change, she was so wrong. I’d save it

for an opportune moment.

“Sure.” I followed her into one of the million themed restaurants

on the Strip. The food wasn’t great, but it was no worse than the decor.

We both ordered soda.

❖

Two casinos later, I started to actually win at blackjack. The night

had been terrible for me so far, so I was totally pleased with myself. I

was debating quitting while I was ahead when my phone vibrated. It

was a text from Reese with one word.
GO
.

“Shit, what time is it?” I asked the guy sitting next to me.

He looked at his watch. “Almost midnight.”

“Man, my girlfriend is going to kill me.” The excuse was automatic.

I tipped the dealer and made a show of worrying about the girlfriend.

That worked well because my hands were so sweaty I dropped my

handful of chips twice before I got them in my pocket.

• 129 •

AShley BArtlett

Thirty seconds later, I was out the door. I texted Reese.
Where r u?

Walk to Bellagio. Im behind you.
I turned toward the Bellagio. Ten

seconds later, there was another text.
Buy hat
. In front of me was one

of the many stands with everything from lighters shaped like women

to beer T-shirts. I dug out a crumpled twenty and bought a Corona

baseball hat. As I walked, I stuffed it into one of my cargo pockets. My