Seducing Seven (What Happens in Vegas) (8 page)

She studied him. Was she brave enough? Did she believe in her own love story?

She took his hand. “Come on.”

Craning her head to see around the crowds of smiling faces and squealing laughter, she looked for her good friend Trent, Masquerade’s party planner extraordinaire. His sweet dimples were challenged only by his sweeter heart. The two of them had met a few years earlier at her first conference as a published author. She’d been beyond nervous, and Trent had swooped in like a fairy godbrother, put her in a beautiful gown, and introduced her to the love of her life—the world of a romance author. Conferences and the connections made there were unlike anything she’d ever imagined.

“There he is.”

Warm brown eyes smiled at her above a martini glass rimmed in sugar, a pale yellow liquid sloshing from inside. She grinned. No doubt, his signature lemon drop martini.

She tapped his glass as he set it down. “A little early, dontcha think?”

Trent laughed. “Please, I’ve always said drinking an ounce of vodka every day has numerous health benefits, lowers blood pressure, and decreases the risk of stroke—”

Seven rolled her eyes, then winked at Blake before turning her focus back to Trent. “For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you say anything of the sort.”

He grinned. “Doesn’t make it any less true, and I have it on good authority, a little blonde birdie told me.” And he took another sip, closing his eyes as he swallowed. Looking at Seven, he indicated Blake standing behind her, and gave him a once over from the top of his well-groomed hair to the rich leather of the black tip of his dress shoes. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Blake flashed Trent a wide smile and reached out his hand. “Blake Turner, but buttercup works.”

Seven glanced at Blake’s open smile, and her heart experienced a curious thump-thump.

Trent laughed and turned his dimples back on Seven. “This one’s a keeper, honey.”

Her eyes popped wide, then morphed into a naughty grin. “At least until the weekend’s over.”

Trent looked over at Blake, who looked as if he had lockjaw. Seven tilted her head. Was he annoyed Trent thought they were together? Well, he’d just have to deal with it. It was an honest mistake; it’s not like she introduced him as such. Why—wait a minute. Why in the hell was she arguing with herself? She shook her head.

Leaning over close, Trent whispered in her ear. “That’s a shame.”

She elbowed him in the side and plastered a smile on her face. “Blake’s in town for a leadership conference.”

Trent grinned. “I’d follow his lead anywhere.”

She tried not to laugh, but lost the fight. Blake’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer, then he looked at Trent and cleared his throat.

Shoving her insecurities as far down as she could, Seven waved away the conversation as if clearing the air. “Anyway, Trent. Can you get us access to the roof?”

The roof was restricted, which was a shame because it boasted the best view of the Vegas strip: the lights, the music, the hum of excitement, promise, and potential.

Trent sucked air in through his teeth. “No one’s allowed to go up there.”

“I know, but you can make anything happen. Besides, I only know about it because
you
took me up there.”

He nodded, tapping his chin. “This is true, on both accounts.”

Trent looked over Seven’s shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “We have one hurdle.”

She followed his gaze; a grand woman with elegant gray hair in a perfect French twist strolled through the crowds with her head held high and a serene look on her face, amid a circus of romance lovers.

“Is that—”

Trent nodded. “Yes, Patricia Plimpton, our esteemed hostess and the queen of the conference. She loves me, and I want to keep it that way.”

She put her arm around his shoulders. “I have faith in you. And no pressure, but we don’t have much time. Blake has to get back to meetings in under an hour.”

He gestured to the two of them over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

With Trent as their guide, they made their way through the crowd, down a side hall, through a door marked
Do Not Enter
, down another smaller hall, and finally to a dark metal door. Trent turned to them and dangled a ring of keys. “Take these.”

Seven reached out her hand, and then he snatched them back. “Guard them with your life.”

She giggled and grabbed them from his fingers. “I will.” She gave him a huge squeeze.

Trent disappeared back down the hall, and Seven turned to Blake. “Come with me.”

Leading the way up the stairs to the roof, she giggled along with Blake’s laugh. “So, that was my friend Trent, and welcome to the Masquerade Casino.”

“I like him.”

Unlocking the door at the top of the stairs, she pushed her way through and then swung back to face him. “I love that you do.”

He gave his head a small shake. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Exactly.”

Tilting his head, he pulled up one corner of his mouth, and Seven held in the urge to kiss him, the need to touch him, the sweet squeeze in her heart at his expression. Why the hell should his innocent wonder pull at her so strongly?

She blinked and then swung her arm out across the rooftop. Concrete spanned out before them with nothing but a small two-foot lip that ran the perimeter. The Masquerade Casino letters peeked above the rim on one side. Reaching for his hand, she pulled him with her. “Trent brought me up here during my first conference in order to give me some perspective.”

He glanced at her. “And why did you bring me here? A lesson in perspective?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe.” Tapping her finger on the third button of his shirt, she peeked up at him through her lashes. “You still have to tell me how your interview went.” She wanted him to get this win. To make it to the top. She’d already seen how he treated the people who supported the efforts of the bigger picture. The way he’d handled the waiter at the restaurant left her heart with warm and fuzzy feelings. She knew they were dangerous, but as much as she wanted to shake them, they remained. How people treated members of the service industry said a lot about their character. It may be a simple thing, but to her, it spoke volumes.

He slid his hands around her waist, reminding her of the first time when they met in the elevator. “It went extremely well.”

Something flashed in his eyes, but was quickly replaced with heat as he lowered his face and pressed his lips against hers. Small flutters kicked up in her stomach, and she pressed into him.

One brush of his lips, two. Then he pulled her close and rested his chin on top of her head. “I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier. I really do respect who you are so much, and I know you believe in what you do. Regardless of my opinion, I was out of line. You’re intelligent and focused. You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. After this ends tomorrow, I’m not going to be able to help comparing every woman I meet to you.”

Her heart caved in on itself. It was totally her luck to find a man like Blake only to lose him. It shouldn’t bother her so much, because she’d never really had him in the first place. But apparently her heart didn’t care about the facts.

She pressed closer and breathed him in. She wanted to remember this moment, his words. “Thank you. It means a lot to me to have you say that, and I know an apology from you doesn’t come lightly.”

She pulled back and held his serious gaze. Memories were what she was after now. Something substantial to remember him and their crazy bet.

Maybe he’d said she’d won the bet, maybe he took it back. None of it mattered, because that wasn’t what she was after anymore. This bet wasn’t a game, and the loss would be a lot deeper.

It was now or never. Diving her fingers into his hair, she pulled him in for a deep kiss and guided where she wanted him to go. He tasted so good, spicy and sweet at the same time—kind of like him.

It was time to go for it. Time to go after the kind of romance she wrote about. She wanted to make sure it was something he’d never forget, one he’d never experienced with anyone else. Show him they had a connection, not only great sex. But she knew how his brain worked now, and she wasn’t above using great sex to help him recognize it.

This was about fully opening herself to him, showing him how it could be when two people reached for the good of each other, not simply for themselves, showing him fireworks were real when two people truly connected.

He didn’t have much time; she—they—didn’t have much time. He had to get back to his meeting, and they’d be going their separate ways tomorrow if she didn’t do something about it. Nathaniel was right. If she didn’t try, Blake was leaving anyway.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “What’s with the sad face?”

Her spine stiffened. “What? No. Nothing.” Leaning into his chest, she pressed her breasts against him. She shoved his jacket from his shoulders and then loosened his tie. “I have something to give you.”

She licked his lower lip, nipped at it, and then fell deeper into the kiss. Sliding her hands between their bodies, she unbuckled his belt and zipper, and pushed his pants down.

Blake tensed. “Whoa, wait a second. What exactly do you have in mind?”

She grinned against his mouth and whispered, “Fireworks.”

Chapter Eight

O
n cue, the rich, deep voice of Pavarotti floated across the breeze, and color burst from the rooftop of the neighboring casino in long, flowing silk streamers of ribbon that seemed to reach the sun. Seven released him from his boxer briefs, finding him already hard and ready.

“What the—”

Lowering to her knees, she slid her fingers down his length and gently cupped his balls.

He sucked in a breath. “Sevannah.”

“Enjoy the show.”

Streaming colors in every shade of the rainbow exploded from the adjacent rooftop to the dips and swells of Pavarotti’s
Nessun Dorma
in an impressive ribbon show she was sure he’d never seen the likes of before. The effect was nothing short of brilliant. Like fireworks against the backdrop of blue skies, vivid colors sparkled like diamonds reflecting the sun in every possible direction.

Seven pressed her lips against the broad head of him, and then opened her mouth just enough to slide over his soft skin. Blake sunk his fingers into her hair and gripped firmly, the slight pull tightened her stomach. She slid her lips along him, rubbing her tongue in circular motions down the underside of his length, and then a long lick back up to his tip. His taste was the best dessert she could imagine.

“Shit.”

She smiled and repeated the action, all the while cupping his balls, gently scraping her nails along the sensitive skin at the crease of his inner thigh. She licked up him again, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, and then slid her lips over him with firm pressure as far as she could.

Her body tightened, screaming to join in on the fun, but she held herself in check and continued her attentions. Giving to him like this was special. She’d analyze why she decided she could later, but for right now she’d settle on the fact that she wanted to. She wanted to give to him.

“Seven. Fuck.” His fingers pulled harder on her hair; his thighs tightened. She increased her speed, gripping the impressive base of him in her hand, following the direction of her mouth. She slipped one hand around to his backside, keeping him right where she wanted him.

He pulled again, the music crescendoing around them, brilliant color bursting in Seven’s periphery. Resisting the tug on her hair, she squeezed him tighter as she continued to swirl her tongue around and around.

Blake’s hands slid down to her arms and lifted her from her feet. “Blake.” Without thought, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he turned, leaning her back against the wall.

“But you’ll miss the show.”

Pushing her skirt up around her waist, he slid her panties to the side and poised against her hot center. “Seven.”

Her rapid breaths joined his. “But these are your fireworks.”

“Exactly.”

And as Pavarotti’s voice reached its peak, Blake slid into her with excruciating slowness. Her eyes fell shut as she pressed her heels into his ass and tightened her grip around his shoulders. He filled her, challenging her to take in all of him, and the hot scrape of the concrete against her back sent her over the edge. “Holy shit.”

He whispered how much he wanted her, then showed her with his touch. He whispered how beautiful he found her, then showed her with his eyes.

The music’s finale, the exquisite rub and pleasure of him inside her, and his tongue sliding against hers were more than she could take. Nothing, no one, had ever made her feel this free, this desired—this much. Her body burst with the last explosion of streamers as a thought burst in her mind.

He was her alpha hero. Spirals of sensation shot out from her center through to her limbs, and she groaned into his mouth, every muscle so tight, she lifted off his body.

Blake followed her lead a few strokes later, slamming into her again and again. With one last deep thrust, leveraging her upper body against the wall, he pulled out from her and held himself in his hand, continuing to pump until he finished.

Pleasure contorted his face, and it was the hottest thing she’d ever witnessed. Pulling her from the wall, he secured his grip once more and bent forward, holding her to him.

Free floating off of his hips with him hinged over like that, tickled her stomach, and she held on tight, capturing his groan in her mouth and swallowing it down with a smile.

They stood like that for a few seconds, both breathing hard, bodies humming. Blake straightened and let her body slide down until the balls of her feet touched the ground. She stepped back, lifting her hand to her forehead. “Wow.”

Blake pulled his pants up and over his hips, tucking in his shirt with jerky movements. She eyed him from beneath her lashes as she smoothed her dress and fluffed her hair.

She couldn’t read his expression. Intense eyes, lips pressed together in a thin line. An uncomfortable pinch formed between her shoulder blades. What the hell was with her insecurities now? Any man would die for an experience like she’d just delivered, wouldn’t he? The fact that she enjoyed it in kind was just an example of her brilliance, as far as she was concerned.

Blake nailed her with his gaze, and she pulled back her shoulders. He walked toward her and didn’t stop until she was leaning back against the wall once again. She refused to look away and lifted her chin a notch.

He looked down at her lips and then back to her eyes. “That. Was the craziest—”

She tensed.

“And hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.” Brushing his lips against hers, he whispered, “Thank you.”

She melted. Two simple words, and she melted.

A heavy weight filled her chest. She’d do this and much more for Blake Turner. She dropped her head to his chest, panic laced through every nerve ending in her body. She was slipping under his spell, and he wasn’t even trying. Simply being himself.

“Hey, are you okay?” He lifted her face, cupping her cheeks in his palms.

If ever there was a time to pull out her bold side, it was now.

She spread her lips into a wide smile. “Of course I am. I just saw fireworks. Blake, I—”

Something passed over his eyes, and he interrupted. “That was great sex, and a fireworks show at the same time? Brilliant plan.”

She froze in place. She was nothing but a good time to him. How could she be so stupid, so many times?

She tried to laugh past the lump in her throat. “Yeah, brilliant.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Look, I’ve got to get to my meeting.”

Waving him off, she said, “Of course, go. I’ll be down in a second and return the keys to Trent.”

Holding her gaze for a beat longer, she thought he was going to say something, but he only nodded and headed toward the door.

It banged closed with a finality she felt to her core. She wrote about happy ever afters, but had never found one herself. Maybe she was lying to herself, to all of her readers.

Was she truly nothing more than a fiscally lucrative liar? Selling happy ever afters like a car salesman at a lemon lot?

She’d been wrong. Blake wasn’t her alpha hero at all, simply an alpha man. And he certainly wasn’t hers.

A short time later, Seven leaned her forehead against the shower wall and closed her eyes against the truth—her heart had betrayed her. Visions of Blake tormented her: his kindness to the waiter, accepting Trent, asking her about her writing, his determination with his work. There were so many traits in him to admire, but whom was she kidding? He mocked romance, treated her as if she were pretending to be a professional instead of actually being one. And worst of all, she was nothing more than a good time for him.

Her lungs constricted, and she struggled to pull in air. Quickly washing, she finished with her shower, then wrapped her hair in a towel. She had a few events to attend that afternoon, a book signing, a meeting with her PR consultant, and drinks with her agent. Blake was meeting her for dinner, then again later at the ball. More opportunities to increase her pain. Shit.

She crawled onto her bed with a copy of her book and stared at the cover. What a sham. She tried to picture herself getting up on stage and telling all her fans and fellow authors how love really worked. It didn’t. There was no such thing as a happy ever after, simply happy for right now. And often that
now
was so fleeting.

How the hell had she let this happen? She was a smart, educated woman, well-versed in love and romance. She wrote about it, for God’s sake. Her heart destined her for nothing but pain, and she needed to shut it down. If she couldn’t guarantee a happy ever after, then what was the point? She wanted a romance story, not a love story. Love stories were allowed to end badly, and who wanted that? Romance allowed for all the depth, all the intimacies, all the struggles, in the safety net of a happy ever after.

She texted Nathaniel.

Seven:
We need to talk.

Nathaniel:
I’m at the bar.

Seven:
Be right there. Don’t move.

Making quick work of getting ready, Seven grabbed her bag of extra swag and stepped out into the hall. The door across from her immediately opened and their little peeping grandma leaned against the doorframe with a bit of a sway. “Hello there, young lady.”

Seven gave her a small nod and turned to go.

“Where’s your hot boyfriend?” Her dry, raspy giggle echoed down the hallway, while the sour smell of alcohol slapped Seven in the face.

Stopping, Seven turned back. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Boy toy, then?” She grinned and swayed perilously on her feet.

“Friend.” And they were, of sorts. A friend she’d never see again after tomorrow. A friend who helped her have the best Vegas trip of her life. A friend she’d never forget.

“Young lady, are you listening?” The woman shoved her cat-eye glasses higher on her nose, sloshing her drink with such force, a bit slopped onto the floor.

Seven gave herself a mental shake. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, two young things like you, so obviously in love, shouldn’t waste time. Believe me, before you know it, your multivitamin is a tumbler of whiskey and your lover’s the hotel turndown service.”

Seven stepped closer to the woman, and then thinking better of it stepped back. She shook her head. “No, we’re just having fun. Vegas fun.”

“Darlin’, I may need glasses, but I’m not blind. It was love in your eyes a few seconds ago.” With one last lingering look, the lady lifted her glass in salute, then stepped back into her room.

Seven could only stare. If her neighbor could see all of that through alcohol fumes and bottle glasses, she had work to do.

She made her way down the hall. Where was Six when she needed her? If anyone could slap the dumb out of her, it was her sister. As she rode the elevator down to the lobby, she sent a quick text. At the very least she needed some reassurance. If she couldn’t have Six, she’d take a text.

She stepped up to the bar. To hell with her schedule.

And a few blessed minutes later, Nathaniel handed her a glass of wine. “What’s going on? Tell me you were brave.”

She breathed through the pain in her chest. “I did something really stupid.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“Yeah, but mine is a
New York Times
best seller.”

“Well, yours always are.”

“I’m not sure love is real, that romance is real, not for the masses anyway. I’m thinking it’s saved for the one percenters.” She had to give at least that much, thinking of her parents. Now, they had something she’d never seen anywhere but in romance novels.

He shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”

Swallowing a mouthful of wine, she hoped for its sweet numbing pull sooner rather than later. “Completely. I’ve never been able to find it, no matter how hard I’ve tried.”

“Have you really? Tried, that is?”

Her eyes shot wide open. “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said this weekend?”

“Exactly. Weekend—it’s not over. Since when have you gone after something you really wanted only halfway?”

After finishing her wine, she set the glass back on the bar. “First of all, you make a good point. The idea someone could fall in love with me in a weekend is ridiculous.” No matter that it took less than that for her to fall for him, which placed the onus of the whole situation squarely back on her shoulders. It was her.

“Love is real, Seven. Romance is real. What you write about, weave dreams about, it makes the world go ’round.”

“No, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I may be the biggest fraud out there.”

Shrugging, Nathaniel sipped from his glass. “All of this from a weekend with this guy?”

Seven laughed. “I picked him up in the elevator yesterday.” Even now she was incredulous she’d ever do something so crazy. “We made a bet. I told the sucker I’d make him fall in love with me by tomorrow afternoon.”

But the only sucker had been her.

She’d gambled in Vegas and lost.

B
lake sucked back half a cup of coffee and then tossed the Styrofoam cup into the trash. The first part of the meeting was a blurry haze of post-come fatigue, and the beginning of the second half was lost in finishing Seven’s book. He’d found himself intrigued by the way she’d weaved the lives of two very different people together, how she played off their strengths and weakness, how against all odds she brought them together and made it seem believable. Even if it was nothing more than make-believe. She was a talented writer.

And it left him feeling stupidly hopeful.

He glared at the cup in the trash, his gut still tied in knots since they’d been together on the roof. No one had ever done anything like that for him before. Given herself so completely to him, no walls, no pretense, simply herself, almost as if she were a gift.

A gift.

Afraid of what she was going to say, he’d cut and run before she forced him to have the same conversation he’d had with every woman he’d dated. He didn’t do serious. But for some reason, he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing the same pain and delusion cross Seven’s eyes like he had the others, so he left as quickly as he could. But he’d never forget what she’d given him.