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He slams his hips to mine and breaks our kiss again. “I’m so fucking hard for you. Do you feel that?”
“Mm,” I moan, my head rolling back and hitting the mirrored wall behind me. His hand moves up to one of my tits, and I arch further toward him.
“Tell me how dripping wet that hot cunt is for me,” he demands.
Jesus. His mouth appears to be good for more than just kissing.
“I’ve never been so wet,” I admit honestly. This is the stuff fantasies are made of. Making out with Asher Nash on an elevator on the way to his hotel room while he talks dirty to me? Are you kidding me?
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he growls, and then the elevator skids to a stop and the doors open. He leads me down the hall toward his room, and when we walk in, I find us in a room overlooking a gorgeous view of Las Vegas Boulevard.
I glance around the room. It’s spacious with a bed, a desk, a couch, and a lounge chair overlooking the view, and it looks as if he hasn’t even been in here yet.
In fact, I don’t see any luggage.
I turn toward him, and he’s got heat in his eyes. “Strip.”
I glance toward the window. “Yes, that’s the Strip.”
He doesn’t crack a smile as he shakes his head. “Strip with the Strip behind you.”
“A strip on the Strip?” I repeat, my smart mouth getting the better of me. “Wait a second, cowboy.” I hold up a hand.
“Cowboy?”
I tilt my head and set a hand on my hip. “Did you rent this room for the night…for me?”
He snags his bottom lip between his teeth, and he’s caught red-handed. He doesn’t seem embarrassed by that fact, though. “What if I did?”
I narrow my eyes at him as I contemplate that. On the one hand…it makes me feel a little cheap. On the other hand…it makes me feel like a million bucks. What a paradox. “I guess I’d feel pretty damn special to be the girl who snagged your interest tonight.”
He takes a step toward me, and it’s nearly predatory as his navy blue eyes turn black with lust. “You’ve done more than snag my interest, Desiree.”
My full name this time. I swallow hard, suddenly nervous that I won’t be enough for him. I’m never insecure, but apparently that’s what a star like Asher Nash does to me.
Still, I hold my head high. “Oh?”
“You’ve commanded my attention this entire night, and my sole focus has been lasered in on you. From the moment I first spotted you at the bar when you walked in, took that shot of vodka, and walked away with your dirty martini, I was fascinated.” He takes another step. “And when you sat beside me at the table, as cheesy as that line was, it really did feel like fate stepped in. I kept looking for you, and you showed up as if outof nowhere in the seat reserved formy date. If that’s not fate at work, I’m not sure what is.”
He turns his attention behind me and out the window, and he seems to grapple with his words—as if he wants to say something, maybe make a confession, but he isn’t sure he’s ready to.
I’m not ready for that, either. I can’t get too invested in this guy, but it may be far too late to prevent it.
I can’t come up with a snappy remark. I find myself without words, something that rarely happens.
He shakes off wherever his mind went, and he turns back toward me. “And I like to treat my dates to a good time at the end of the night.”
“I figured someone like you would be able to offer more than a simplegood time,” I say. It’s a challenge, one I’m certain he’ll meet head-on.
Before he can, though, I move in closer to him, taking the initiative. I unbutton his jacket and reach in beyond the lapels toward his shoulders to help him shrug it off. He catches it when it falls to his wrists, and he pulls it off and tosses it on the desk beside me.
I reach for his wrists, unbuttoning the cuffs.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“You said strip. You didn’t say which one of us you wanted naked.”
He stretches his neck back and groans, and I chuckle as I start to unbutton his starched white shirt, slowly moving down one button at a time. He watches me silently, carefully, the only sound the quiet hitch of his breath as I make my way down toward where the shirt is tucked into his pants.
