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I pull back slowly, lazily, as a haze seems to fall over both of us.
“I have a room here tonight, and I’d love to take you upstairs.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 9: Desiree Dixon
A Strip on the Strip
He drags me through the ballroom like he’s on a mission, and he leads me through the lobby, through the casino, and toward a bank of elevators.
It’s not a short walk, but he presses the button for the top floor, and if we were alone on this elevator, I have a feeling he’d start his exploration of what’s beneath the leaves.
The kiss outside was hot. The man’s mouth is talented, and the way he worked my mouth made me want to feel his tongue all over my body. All night and maybe again in the morning if my body can handle the pleasure.
It felt like more than just a kiss.
I wish I could pretend like it was more, but itcan’tbe. He’s Asher Nash. My dad is his newest coach, and he doesn’t even know that about me yet.
I like it that way.
This connection—it’s the vodka paired with heat simmering between us. It’s lust. That’s all it is, and I need to take a step back and remind myself of that.
We’re two adults consenting to a fun time together. That’s all Asher Nash does. It’s what he’s known for. He doesn’t call women back, nor would I expect him to…which is why I already know I’m not going to leave my number.
He’ll see me again, and that’s almost a certainty. Once the season begins, I’ll attend some home games. I’ll sit with my mom while we watch my dad do his thing on the sidelines. We’ll cheer for the team—unless it’s on the off chance they’re playing the Storm. Then I’ll be torn on who to cheer for.
We’ll see each other again, yes. He just doesn’t know it yet.
And I’m not going to spoil the lusty promise of tonight with that particular truth.
Since we’re traveling to the top floor, others exit the elevator on our ascent toward the top. We find ourselves alone with fourteen floors yet to travel, and the very millisecond the elevator doors slam shut, he makes his move.
His mouth is immediately dragging along my neck. “Jesus Christ, you taste like heaven.” He trails his lips down my neck and toward my collarbone, and I shiver. He backs me into the corner, his hands moving up my torso as he starts his ascent with his tongue back up my neck. His mouth is hot and needy when it meets mine, and his hands are traveling slowly, achingly slowly, up my torso. My nipples tighten and my body aches for him, so much so that I groan in what feels like agony, but all it does is encourage him.
He shifts, and I feel his hard cock as he positions it between us.
It’s at that moment that reality slams into me.
Holy shit, I’m going up to Asher Nash’s hotel room for sex.
I feel giddy as I revel in this moment. I suppose I have more access to football players than the average woman my age, but it’s still a pretty damn exciting thrill to know that he’s interested.
I arch into him involuntarily, and a little growl escapes him.
“Christ, Des,” he pants, his mouth just below my earlobe. “I can’t wait to get to my room and fuck you.” The way he drags out thezsound in the shortened version of my name nearly makes me come on the spot.
Nobody calls me that. It’s Desi or Desiree. Always. Never Des. There’s something illicit about it, like I only ever want to hear him call me that in the heat of a moment as the single syllable comes out in a rasped whisper.
I shiver as I feel his tongue beneath my ear, his breath warm against my skin, the sounds sexual and animal at the same time. His mouth moves back to mine, and I twine my fingers into the back of his hair. It’s a little long, like he didn’t care enough for a fresh cut and a shave, and his shadow of a beard is already burning my mouth.
I don’t care.
It’s hot as hell.Heis hot as hell.
And for tonight, he’s mine.
I can live in my altered state of reality and pretend like it’s more than just for tonight, and I get to go home and brag about my conquest to my best friends, that I bagged one of football’s most eligible bachelors during my wild Vegas weekend.
