With my thoughts circling a dark drain, my glass empty, and no waitress in sight to remedy the situation, that was when she finally walked into the lounge and made her way across the room.
Known simply as Nova, she led a very public life, and it didn't take much to learn everything about her. From her meteoric rise as a new clothing designer in New York to her arrival in Las Vegas to open an exclusive store in the brand new Sinclair hotel and casino. He could only imagine how lucrative a partnership like that would be.
If that wasn't enough, she had throngs of fans across social media who couldn't seem to wait to see what she wore anytime she left her top floor suite. Her outfit of the day posts were viewed, liked, and shared hundreds of thousands of times per day.
While I got the effect of social media on her life, it wasn't what drew me to the woman or why I looked at her pictures. I enjoyed a woman in nice clothing as much as the next guy, but clothes weren't usually high on my radar. Unless those details somehow intersected with my work, I rarely noticed.
Tonight, she wore a short black dress that matched the color of her long inky hair. She'd chosen to leave it down, and the long tresses floated down her back to her waist like some kind of fucking veil.
The dress, though, it was hard to tear my eyes off it. Not when it fit her so tight there wasn't a chance in hell I, and every other fucker in this place, wouldn't notice every single curve of her perfect body. And they were luscious.
Since the first night I'd seen her, those curves had given me all sorts of ideas. Especially when it came to how my hands would grip her as I pulled her tight against me.
Every memory of her became instant spank bank material.
That dress alone pulled a low groan from me that couldn't be contained.
Not to mention the fact she absolutely could not be wearing a bra with that thing.
Which left me no choice but to imagine her nipples rubbing against the fabric with each step she took. And the idea that those little gems were as rock hard as my cock nearly did me in.
That dress stopped well above her knees, showcasing the strong, tan legs that carried her across the room to a stool at the bar. Her favorite spot to sit and people watch, since she never actually met anyone here.
Men and women alike approached her, some even asked for a picture. But none were ever invited to stay.
And did I mention the strappy gold heels that would look good in the air and draped over my shoulders as I fucked into her?
I scrubbed my face to relieve some tension. Her presence had an effect on me I couldn't explain. If she was just a beautiful woman, I might have seen her differently—this town had plenty of those—but this woman had a complexity to her that not many did. It made for an even more enticing allure.
The dread of coming here tonight flipped instantly to something else. Excitement? Yes. Desire? Fuck yes. More importantly though... Knowledge.
As she bent her head to the bartender to order her drink — a martini, dry, no olives — I made up my mind.
Tonight would be a night neither of us ever forgot.
Asking her out on a date appealed on a strangely surreal level. Mostly because I didn't date. Small talk and flirtation were not my forte nor did they interest me.
You needed a man broken in an interview? I was your guy. You needed someone to dig deep to uncover the darkest secrets a man possessed? Also me.
In my book, attraction meant only one thing. Scratching an itch and then moving on.
However, when she adjusted on that damned leather seat and turned to take in the rest of the room, I saw her eyes land on me and take me in.
The jolt from that simple look made my next move solidify.
I might be lost and on my way to hell, but damned if I wasn't going to take her with me.
Tonight, I was going to drink her in and drown. Fuck the code I was about to violate.
