“The ones who anger you the most may turn out to be your most trusted ally.” ~Johnny Outlaw
If the doors hadn’t opened right then, distracting Dalton’s eyes away from mine, he would have seen my jaw hit the elevator floor. He walks, but gets jerked back when my feet stay firmly planted inside the vestibule. When he looks at me, he laughs. “I was kidding.” He raises his eyebrows, his eyes reflecting his mischievous side. “Unless you don’t want me to be.”
My breath deepens as a debate sparks inside. I shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s too damn enticing not to.
The worry creasing his brow disappears when I step forward, but he teases, “Just so I’m clear. Do you want me to be kidding or you don’t want me to be kidding about the one night?”
I walk past him with a determination in my stride, and casually reply, “I need food. Let’s order dinner and go from there.”
When I look back, his smile returns. “That sounds good.” He rubs his stomach, his T-shirt lifting just enough for me to catch a glimpse of hard abs and a sprinkling of dark hair that leads to naughty and stimulating places. “I can eat.”
Failing to mention he was taking me to a penthouse suite, I have to ask, “How do you have access to the penthouse?”
“Perks of the job.” Double timing his footwork to get in front of me, he opens the door wide and waits. “After you.”
I hesitate just outside the door, peeking into the large suite. “You sure do get a lot of perks.” One glance at Dalton and his words from earlier tonight run through my mind. Rules are meant to be broken—maybe he’s someone worth breaking them for.
The penthouse is bigger than most apartments in L.A. Definitely bigger than the last one I had and maybe even my townhouse.
Dalton disappears into a bedroom off to the side, but I remain by the front door, a little nervous to disturb the opulence. When he returns, he’s changed into a dry T-shirt with sleeves that have shrunk up a little more on one side than the other. Two more tattoos are partly revealed—one is a number, the other is the bottom of a flag. He walks out onto the crescent-shaped balcony and grabs a cigarette from a pack on the table. With the cigarette in his mouth, he glances at me over his shoulder, and asks, “You have a light?”
I shake my head, and ask, “You smoke?”
“Bad habit. I know, but I picked it up a long time ago.”
“Can you quit?”
“Anytime.”
His confidence is sexy, but still makes me skeptical. “Really? Anytime?”
“Sure. Yeah, I might get the shakes from the withdrawals and gain a few pounds, take up the bottle to replace one bad habit with another, but yeah,” he says, shrugging, “I can quit.”
I want to say so much to that smartass reply, but I think he needs the cigarette after that rant, so I’ll let him smoke in peace.
After blowing the smoke into the air, he leans against the railing and adds, “Sorry.”
“No need for sorries,” I repeat his phrase from earlier tonight. “I get it. I wasn’t lecturing, so you know. I was just curious.” I stand and walk to the kitchen and search for a glass, thinking I need the distraction.
I fill a glass with water and stand at the kitchen counter, taking sips, and beginning to doubt my decision to come here.
He approaches from behind and presses his chest against my back. I try to control my swallow, but I’m sure he hears my gulp.
His lips touch the top of my bare shoulder and he kisses me gently, causing me to swallow hard again. Fingertips tap against my skin, then drag the spaghetti strap of my silk top to the side until it drops. When it comes to bad boys, I’ve always been a sucker when accompanied by a handsome face and sweet gestures. And I have a feeling Jack Dalton is a very bad boy.
When I turn around, his arms trap me and our noses touch, making my heart race. I place my hand on his chest to feel, without him knowing, if he’s having the same reaction. His hand covers mine, and he whispers, “I feel it.” When I look into his eyes, I see his every intention clearly set, but his words surprise me. “I lied earlier.”
“About what?” My tone may not be as comfortable as his, but I keep it low to match the intimacy of the moment.
“When I said I’d replace smoking with drinking. I think you already know I drink since we met at a bar.”
He makes me smile. Feeling bold, I move my hand up from his chest and around his neck. “We all have our vices.”
“What’s one of yours?” His hands are near my waist, his fingertips barely touching me… and I want more.
Looking down, and feeling shy, I reply, “Hot guys with tattoos that I meet at bars on vacation.”
When I look back up, he’s smiling. “So this is something you do often?”
“Let’s not go that far. Makes me sound easy. Oh wait,” I say with a devious grin. “I guess I need to confess my own lie now, huh?”
“And what is that?”
“I’ve had a one-night stand before… maybe even a few.”
With laughter edging his tone, he says, “Eh, who hasn’t.” His warm breath covers my mouth, making my insides swirl in anticipation. I need to slow down before his lips are pressed against mine. Because once that happens, there’s no stopping.
“Now about that vice of yours,” he asks, “you think I’m hot?”
Wow, he caught that, but I guess that’s what I get for opening my mouth. “Yes, I think you’re very hot.”
“I think you’re beautiful, Holliday, and you have a fucking great ass. So it seems I was in the right place at the right time to indulge that vice of yours.”
I’m about to say something really clever, but his lips are on mine and the witty comebacks I might have had disappear. His hands grasp my hips tightly as he presses his against mine. There’s no hiding his reaction and I begin to hope we can get into a little trouble together. But then his lips still and his hands drop. He pulls back and starts walking away, but I grab his arm before he’s out of reach, and ask, “What just happened?”
“I don’t think we should do this,” he says with his back to me as his hand scrapes through his hair. I release his arm, but he stays. When he turns around, he looks me in the eyes. “You may have had a few one-night stands, Holliday, but that’s not how I see you.”
“You don’t know me.” I try to tamp down the defensiveness in my voice.
“I want to.”
My eyebrows go up in surprise, revealing everything I want to say without the necessary words.
He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head, amused. “What? A guy can’t want to know somebody before fucking them?”
“Sounds like your own personal demon.”
A heavy sigh escapes him as he stares at me, perplexed. “So you just wanna fuck then?”
Doubt rears its ugly head and I walk around him, keeping my eyes focused on the balcony and the burning cigarette he left in the ashtray out there. I sit down on a chair and kick my feet up on the railing, looking out over The Strip a block away. His footsteps echo as he walks outside, taking a seat on the other side of the table.
“Are we playing games?” I ask, leaning my head back on the chair. I roll my neck to the side, and watch him. “I admit, I thought agreeing to come up here for more had the potential to lead to that, but, you got me all worked up and now you’re changing the game on me.”
“You’re from L. A.”
The direction of this conversation makes me pause, but then I play along. “I’m from Texas.”
He narrows his eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“I was once.”
“But not now.”
“No, not now. You know this about me already since you saw my license.”
The legs of his chair squeal in revolt as he pulls it forward to lean his elbows on the table, staring at me in analysis. “I don’t want to learn about you from a license. I want you to tell me. Where are you from, Holliday Hughes?”
“Why do you need to hear me say something you already know?”
“I want to get to know you from you, the real you.”
“Next time, just ask the first time.” I look away. When I turn back, I say, “Los Angeles.”
He chuckles as if he knew I’d give in and tell him. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
“A little painful, but no, not hard at all,” I emphasize the hard in memory of a few minutes earlier. “How about you? Where are you from, Jack Dalton?”
“You don’t know?”
“How would I know?” I touch his shoulder, lifting up his sleeve enough to get a better look at his flag tattoo. “This flag might be a clue,” I say, shrugging. “But maybe you just lost the love of your life in the great state of Texas.”
“You know, not every tattoo has to be about a girl or lost love.”
“So you’re claiming they’re not?”
“No, not the love of my life, but I lost myself along the way.”
“You’ve got a dark side that creeps out every now and then. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Creeps? Ha! I’ve got a dark side that slaughters hopes and dreams on a daily basis.”
I should be concerned, but for some reason I trust him. “Slaughter is a strong word. What did you once dream of that you’re not doing now?”
Getting up from the chair abruptly, he walks to the railing, standing with his back to me. The action feels intentional and hurts a bit. Braving the possible rejection, I join him, covering his hand with mine, but keep my gaze averted to our surroundings. I’d love to read verse upon verse of what makes this man so intriguing, but I fight that instinct and stay silent, letting him answer when he’s ready.
He doesn’t disappoint, his vulnerability drawing me in once again when he says, “I once dreamed of being a professional ball player.”
This is such an unexpected response that he catches me off guard. An innocent dream revealed in the middle of Sin City.
“Don’t laugh,” he adds, side-eyeing me with a grin.
“Okay, I won’t laugh. A little smiling, but no laughing here.” I sneak a glimpse of him again, enjoying his playful expression. “I’ll share a secret with you since you shared one with me.” He leans a little closer as I go on. “When I was a kid, I dreamed of being a fireman, a firewoman, technically. I once saw a fireman save a dog from a burning house and I wanted to do that. I knew I could. I was the fastest kid in the fourth grade in the fifty-yard dash. I’d get in, save some lives, and get out. That was the plan. I told everyone I would be a hero one day.”
“You still can be.”
“How? Do you know someone who needs saving?”
His gaze penetrates deep. “Yeah, I might know someone.”
The air is dry, but the atmosphere has thickened. This time I give his hand a little squeeze before dropping mine back to my side.
Tilting his head to the side, he eyes me. “You hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Room service okay?”
“You want to stay in?”
He nods. “I like the privacy.”
“The suite’s not bad either.”
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “The suite’s not bad either.”
Inside, I take a seat on one couch and he sits across from me on the other, and asks, “What do you want to eat?”
“Where’s the menu?” I look around, but don’t see one.
“Anything you want.” He moves closer to the phone on the table. “Just name it and they’ll make it for us.”
“Why do I get the feeling that your job entails more than busting minors trying to score alcohol at the bar?”
He doesn’t bother answering, but says, “I’m ordering a burger.”
“You can order anything you want, even stuff not on their menu, and you want a burger. Interesting.”
“I’m gonna get fancy on you, order cheese on it too. You might want to note that down.”
“Noted. I’ll take the same.”
“A girl who lives in L.A. and eats meat. That’s impressive.”
“I’m chock full of surprises.”
With the phone pressed to his ear, he says, “I just bet you are.” He places the order and hangs up. Sliding down the cushion looking exhausted, he closes his eyes. “Thirty minutes. What do you want to do in the meantime?”
Too busy admiring him to respond right away, I follow the hard lines of his arms down over his body. Although he works in security, he’s definitely not a donut eating cop. He stays fit and the way the thin material of his shirt stretches across his stomach, I can see a six pack. Might be more, but I’d need a closer lick… er, look, to determine that. I linger, admiring as my gaze rolls over his chest to his jaw again—scruff, cut, strong, and masculine. When I reach his eyes, they’re already on me. Catching me in the act, he asks, “Did you ever decide if you wanted me to be kidding or not?”
Here we go again… He sits there, waiting for an answer, so I reply, “In all honesty, it’s not what I thought I’d be doing when we left the bar. At least not a hundred percent what I thought we’d be doing.”
“We both know I wasn’t kidding. Here I sit, across from a beautiful woman in a private suite. I can’t seem to take my eyes off her except when I force myself, attempting to keep her from feeling uncomfortable. But she has this delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulder that I can’t stop thinking about, curious to what it feels like to trace it with my finger, and then with my tongue, remembering just how sweet her lips tasted.” Motioning between the two of us, he says, “Whatever you decide, won’t change the fact that you’re feeling what I’m feeling.”
I release a long held breath, swooning inside while desperately trying to hold onto my sensibilities. All my willpower goes out the window. I stand and walk around the coffee table that divides us, and sit down next to him. With no space left between us—thigh against thigh—I lean forward and press my lips to his. “You remember what I taste like?”
His hands touch my face in such an intimate way, that I feel his warmth in my knees. With a small inch or two between our mouths, his words are just a whisper. “I want you, but there’s something about you that makes me want to know you even more. That will make it even better when we do come together.” I catch the double entendre just as his thumb softly grazes across my cheek, tempting me to give into my body’s wants, but I look down and his hand falls away.
The back of my legs are pressed to the couch, so I slide to my left, slipping out. I cross my arms over my chest and sigh, loud enough for him to hear. “You mean that, don’t you? You really do want to get to know me?”
“I do. I didn’t bring you up here to have sex. I know you won’t believe me, but I was having fun with you at the bar and wanted more—”
“More time?”
“More than a half-hour downstairs.”
“I’m confused, Dalton.” I walk to the kitchen and take a sip of my water, then say, “I’m not gonna play dumb here. Once I knew we were coming to your room I figured more might happen and I wasn’t fully against that. We talked and ordered food. Things slowed down, then you started the flirting back up. I start to give in. You pull away. Why am I here? Because I’m not sure anymore.”
“I wanted you alone. I wanted you without any eyes on us. I want to get to know you better.”
“You make me feel slutty for wanting what I thought we both wanted. You brought me to this fancy penthouse, started talking about where we’re from, and long-forgotten dreams. So forgive me if I’ve read this all wrong, but what you’re saying and how you’re acting sends two different messages.” I walk toward the door. “Maybe I wanted to play,” I say, but stop, and look him in the eyes. “But I don’t think I want to anymore. I’ll let myself out.”
“Wait. Don’t go. Stay. Whether we have sex or not, I just want your company.” His expression appears sincere, but he seems to have several sides to him.
With my back against the door, I keep my eyes on his. “Look. I don’t sleep around… much. But I have slept with someone just because it was Wednesday.” I shrug. “So I’m not innocent over here, but I work hard and I have a pretty crappy social life because of it. Sometimes it’s nice to feel a warm touch that vibrates with excitement instead of a cold one that’s battery-operated.” I step forward as if I owe him more, more of an explanation, or more of me, I’m not sure. “Judge me if you must, but I’m in Vegas and now officially on vacation. And despite what you may think, I’ve only had the one drink so far today, so I’m not drunk. I’m a grown woman who appreciates a handsome face and the artistry of a tattoo that has meaning to the person wearing it. I actually thought we’d have dinner and a good time. All that came from somewhere pure, somewhere that now feels dirty, a little tainted. So I’m going now and if one day you find yourself not so lost in Los Angeles, you know my information.”
I don’t wait for a response or apology. I don’t know Dalton well enough to know if he’d offer one anyway. So I go without looking back, passing the room service waiter on the way, and hop in an elevator that’s for the exclusive use of the two penthouses.
Half expecting to hear him call after me, my finger hovers over the Lobby button, but I count to ten and when I don’t hear anything, I push it. The doors start to close when a hand reaches in, stopping them. Dalton peeks around the corner with a big smile in place, and says, “Can we start over? Stay for dinner?”
“Why?”
“Because I like you. I like your honesty and I don’t get much honesty in my line of work.”
“You’re an undercover narc. Of course you don’t get much honesty. Isn’t that why you got into the business?”
A sly smile crosses his face, revealing a small dimple in his cheek. A light sparks from within, reflecting in his eyes, and with a nod of his head, he says, “Come back. I’ll feed you and give you the sex you came up here for. Because it’s a Friday and while Friday may not be hump day, it’s still a damn good day of the week.”
My mouth drops open. “The sex? You’ll give me the sex because it’s Friday?” I roll my eyes while huffing, and then push the lobby button twice.
Stepping inside, he blocks the doors from closing and a buzz is heard from overhead. With his arms stretched wide, he looks into my eyes. “No. I mean, if you want the food that’s currently getting cold inside, you can have it. If you want to have sex, let’s fuck. You can have anything you want.”
The elevator starts buzzing even louder, escalating its level of warning. Dalton spreads his feet apart to hold the doors open and reaches for me. “I’ll even call you Holli since that’s what you prefer.”
He’s sexy and when he’s flirting with me, even sexier. I can’t give in too easily though. I should make a few ground rules, or at least one. “I’ll only come back on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You still call me Holliday because I like the way you say it. I’m still going to call you Dalton though, because I like the sound of that.”
“Deal, Holliday.”
I accept his hand and just like the first time we came up here, he holds onto it until we’re inside. The same tingle of excitement courses through my veins and I can tell by the smile on his face, he feels it too.