––––––––

MY MIND WAS FILLED with thoughts of her body as I tried to sleep before the meeting. That was fine if Sam wanted to keep her distance or if I was some sort of a distraction to her or whatever. But a mistake? Hardly. I was never a mistake to women. They might have been a mistake to me, but I was never a mistake in their book. I treated them right, was attentive to their needs, kept tabs on their reactions in bed so I knew exactly what to give them, and made sure they were taken care of.

And Sam was no different.

I had a meeting to prepare for, but I couldn’t get our encounter off my mind. Samantha Williams, hard-ass rescuer and military extraordinaire, was a softie in bed. Small kisses and fluttering licks were all it took to diminish her to a gasping mess. Soft thrusts and cradling her body was what the big, bad woman enjoyed in bed. I never would’ve believed it had I not experienced it myself.

The problem was, I was more than ready to experience it again.

I prepared myself for the meeting as Sam stood in my living room. She was dressed in a pencil skirt with a button-down blouse that was tucked it and smoothed out. Her heels were tasteful, and her hair was up in a bun. She was the perfect vision of what a professional personal assistant would look like.

Complete with the detached personality.

She was cold and kept her distance most of the day. The meeting was boring, and instead of sitting next to me, she sat in the corner along with the rest of the personal assistants at the meeting. She took notes and scanned the room, and occasionally, her eyes would catch mine.

But before I could so much as grin at her, she would divert her gaze and go back to writing.

She played the personal assistant well. Didn’t speak unless spoken to and always had a few statistics up her sleeve to rattle off about the company. She did just enough to impress but not enough to garner her any sort of attention. She would be forgotten about by these men the moment the meeting was done.

Just like a personal assistant should’ve been.

It was disappointing, to say the least. I wanted her to open back up to me. I couldn’t just forget what had happened between us, no matter how much distance she wanted. What we shared was special. What she wanted in bed had been innocent, despite the debaucherous pleasure we had shared. She needed permission to feel good, to feel like a woman and to be doted on by a real man.

That struck a chord with me, and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t forget it.

I couldn’t forget the way she had tried holding herself back, muffling her sounds with her teeth and halting the movement of her hips. I had to move her hips against my tongue just to get her going. Like pleasure wasn’t something she could afford. It wasn’t until I granted her my muffled permission from the folds of her lovely pussy that she let go and enabled herself to feel like nothing other than the striking woman she was.

It was odd and, yet, somehow fitting to who she was.

After the meeting, we went straight back to the rooms. She diverted to her room without a word, and I shuffled into mine. Things were tense between us, to say the least. But I didn’t want it to stay that way. Even if things simply went back to the witty banter we always had going, I would take that over what was going on now.

I would take that over this awkward and silent interaction we were experiencing.

“Knock, knock.”

I knocked on our shared room door before I opened it. Sam was hunched over the files I’d given her on the plane, making notes in the margins and keeping her phone close to her.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I’m heading down to the Vegas strip. Wanna come?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Well, heading out for the evening. Room service is on me if you get hungry.”

“You can’t go anywhere without my accompaniment.”

“And I’m not staying cooped up in a hotel when Vegas is calling me. It’s your choice, Miss Williams. You can stay here and leave me vulnerable, or you can come with me and do your job.”

Her eyes flashed up toward mine, a searing heat behind them as her pen stilled.

“There’s already been one technical threat already,” I said. “With Gretchen and all. She was sent here to embarrass me.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“See, you’re already slipping. You didn’t even ask me about my interaction with her.”

“I determined she wasn’t a physical threat, so I left.”

“A physical threat, no. But a threat? Yes.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Agree to come with me this evening, and I’ll tell you.”

“I could track her down within minutes and ask her myself. What. Happened?”

The harshness of her words was reminiscent of anger. Sam was angry with herself. My pointing out the fact that she had slipped in her job wasn’t working in my favor. It was only serving to prove her point.

All I wanted to do was get her out with me and to open her back up a little bit. I enjoyed what I saw when we were vulnerable with one another. All I wanted was to experience that again.

Even if it wasn’t during sex.

“Say you’ll come out tonight,” I said.

“You’re being manipulative, and I don’t respond to that. I’ll track her down myself,” Sam said.

“Someone sent her here to write a botched story on me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Someone gave her a misleading hot tip about my coming to Vegas with the wife of someone from a company I’ve purchased this year. She was manipulated into coming to Vegas to try and destroy my public image.”

“Did she happen to tell you where this ‘hot tip’ came from?” she asked.

“No, but she told me she would squash the story about my being in Vegas. Gretch doesn’t take very well to be manipulated, either.”

“Seems like we have a lot in common,” she said with a murmur. “I’ll have to look into who gave her that tip.”

“Well, while you do that, I’m gonna hit up one of the casinos. See you later tonight.”

I pushed away from the doorframe and went to grab my wallet. I couldn’t hear Sam moving around, and a part of me really thought she was going to let me wander around Vegas on my own. I slid my suit coat onto my arms and pushed into the alcove of our rooms, resigning myself to a lonely night of watching over my shoulder just to keep up appearances.

Then Sam slid from her room, wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before on her.

It was a royal blue dress that fell perfectly to her knees. Her heels were blood red as I raked my eyes up her form, taking in the way she placed lipstick on her lips. She rolled them around, spreading the makeup on as she reached up for the bun in her hair.

She shook her head out, allowing her waves to cascade down to her shoulders.

“How the hell did you change so quickly?” I asked.

“Trick of the trade,” she said. “Lead the way, asshole.”

I grinned as we made our way to the car. I opened her door for her, and she stepped in, her fluid legs making her seem more graceful than I’d ever witnessed. We headed toward The Bellagio as Sam watched the world pass us by outside, and my eyes roamed over her body again. Now that I knew what was underneath her clothes, it was hard to keep my distance. I wanted to slide next to her and slide my arm around her waist. I wanted to pull her strong curves into my stronger muscles. I wanted to pull her onto my lap and slide my cock into her body, bypassing the removal of clothes as I took her in the back of our limousine.

I figured I could treat her to a night fit for all the women I’d slept with.

I led her into the casino, and we made our way to the restaurant. I ordered the most expensive bottle of wine I knew she would like. The wine came to the table and the waiter poured me a glass, but when he went to pour Sam a glass, she stopped him.

“No, thank you,” she said politely.

“Are you sure? It’s a fantastic bottle of wine,” I said.

“No. Thank you,” she said calmly.

The entire dinner was like that. She seemed to enjoy the food, humming every so often and eating a little faster than I imagined her to eat. But she kept her distance. The conversation was minimal at best, and soon, I stopped trying to ask her questions. I was beginning to look like an idiot, and if there was one thing I never enjoyed, it was looking like an idiot.

Fine. If she was going to play her cards this way, then I had my own set of cards to show her.

After I paid for dinner and left a more-than-generous tip, we headed to the high-roller room. The Bellagio held one of the most famous high-roller poker tables in all of Vegas, and it was my favorite place to be. Top-shelf bourbon. Cigars. Men with deep pockets willing to risk it all over cards and beautiful women clad in the finest fabrics. Even though Sam looked like a vision, she would be sorely underdressed for this occasion, and it would be interesting to see how she molded to this environment.

“Guess she left her jewelry at home,” one of the women said.

“Her shoes are a bit scuffed. Where did she think she was going? The park?”

The catty women, dressed in the finest diamonds and rubies this world had to offer, were already throwing Sam snide remarks. I sat down in my seat and anted up, then found a few cards being thrown my way. There were beautiful women sitting in the laps of powerful men as a cigar was passed my way. Their eyes were prowling for their meal of the night as a woman with a very impressive rack bent over and lit my cigar.

But not before she placed her tits on my shoulder.

“A big cigar for a big boy,” the woman said.

“Thank you for the light,” I said with a grin.

I saw Sam sit down in the corner as women began to hit on me. They continued their cutting remarks, making jokes about her frizzy hair and the hair stubble on her leg. I could tell she was annoyed. Her lips pursed together, and her eyes drifting along the room. But I was glad she was pissed. I wanted her to feel the pressure of the kind of life I led. If she thought she could get away with calling me a mistake, then she, herself, was mistaken.

Sleeping together wasn’t a mistake. But if she really wanted to compare mistakes, then she would soon understand the sore thumb she stuck out as in my life and how completely unprepared she was to follow me around everywhere and keep herself under wraps. People were staring at her. Breaking her down. Men were grimacing at her because of how out of place she was, and women kept giggling over how angry she looked.

She didn’t fit in with a place like this.

And if she was going to keep her head above water, then she had to understand the standard she would be held to.

The standard I would hold her to if this was going to continue distraction-free, even if I was nothing but a mistake to her.