“Yeah, fine,” I say. “I'm good.”
He gives me a gentle smile. “If you're having second thoughts –”
I shake my head quickly, not trusting myself to speak. Truth be told, I passed second guessing this a long time ago. I'm on more like the thousandth thought. All I can think though, is that I deserve this. I deserve to have fun. Even if nothing long term comes of this – which it likely won't – I deserve to have a good time. To enjoy myself. To enjoy my life. I only get one and I should live it how I want. Right?
“You sure about that?” he asks. “Because you're shaking your head yes, but that terrified, deer-in-the-headlights look on your face is saying something else.”
A wry chuckle escapes me, and I just shake my head again. “You'd think I'd never done this before.”
“What, go home with a strange man your friend forced on you at a nightclub just a few hours ago?” he asks, a mischievous grin on his face. “Yeah, me neither. Last time I was in this position, it didn't go all that well. The guy was a real prick about it too.”
I stare at him wide-eyed for a moment and realize he's screwing with me. As his words finally sink in and I realize, I burst out laughing. And as I laugh, I feel the tension that had been building up inside of me dissipate. Gone, like a puff of smoke on the breeze. I laugh until my sides hurt and tears roll down my face.
That goofiness, that sharp wit – it's honestly one of Brayden's most attractive qualities. The fact that he can make me laugh like an idiot – something no man has ever been able to do – is something I appreciate and adore. And strangely enough, it makes me feel extremely comfortable around him. I can't explain why, but it does.
Eventually, my laughter fades and I wipe the tears from my eyes. I look over at Brayden who turns to me, his expression serious.
“Honestly,” he says, “if you don't want to do this, just say the word. I'll take you back to your own hotel. No harm done. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured or forced into anything.”
I look at him for a long moment, the thoughts and emotions inside of me swirling faster than a tornado. No matter which way I look at them though, they all ultimately lead me to one conclusion.
“I want this,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I really do.”
Brayden gives me a nod and a smile. “I was hoping you'd say that,” he says. “Because if you hadn't, I've been driving with this really uncomfortable hard-on for nothing.”
I erupt in laughter again and slap him on the shoulder. “You're such a pig.”
He laughs. “Oink oink,” he says.
He pulls the car into the large circular drive of the hotel and pulls to a stop at the valet stand.
“The Bellagio,” I say and look over at him. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you recognize class and style when you see it?”
“Yeah, that must be it,” I say and giggle. “Now, come along, pig.”
The valet opens my door and I get out, waiting on the curb for Brayden, who's handing his keys and a tip to the attendant. When he's finished, he steps over to me and I take his arm, allowing him to escort me through the lobby and to the elevators.
As we step into the elevator car, I feel nerves rippling through my belly again. Neither of us speak, but when I look over at Brayden, I see that his face is a little pinched. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he's feeling a bit nervous too.
When he looks over at me again, however, his face is now perfectly composed. Gone is the pinched look of nerves from just a moment ago, and in its place, is a mask of calm certainty. A mask that nearly borders on arrogant. I can tell it's a front, though, from what I'd seen just a moment before. The fact that he thinks he can hide it from me is adorable. It might work well on other people. It probably does. But then again, I'm not those people.
“Listen,” I say. “If you've changed your mind –”
“The only thing I’m thinking about is having you a second time,” he replies, his voice cocky.
I laugh and slap him in the arm again. “Pig,” I say. “Seriously. I appreciate you not wanting me to feel pressured or anything, and I just want you to know, I don't want –”
I let out a small yelp as Brayden cuts me off, pushing me up against the wall of the elevator and leaning in, pressing his lips to mine. Our kiss is slow and tentative at first, but quickly grows in intensity. Our tongues swirl and dance with each other and I feel his hands roaming my curves. He cups my ass before sliding his hands up, leaving them to rest upon my hips.
Pulling back, he looks me in the eye and gives me a small smile. “Do I seem like a man who gives in to being pressured?”
Biting my bottom lip, I give him a salacious smile as I reach down and grab his stiff cock through his slacks. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a slow groan as I rub and stroke him through his pants.
“Oh, I have a feeling I could – persuade – you to do a lot of things,” I purr.
Grabbing both of my hands with his own large, strong ones, he pins them to the wall above my head and presses himself forward. He kisses my neck, grinding his hard rod against me, drawing a soft moan from me. Feeling how hard and thick he is, pressed against my belly, ignites a fire between my thighs and I feel myself growing wet.
He pulls back and smiles at me. “Oh, you could try,” he says. “And I'll let you try as often as you want.”
The elevator chimes as the doors slide open, revealing us awkwardly standing there in that compromising position. The unlucky onlookers, an older couple probably in their fifties, are staring at us with wide eyes and open mouths, shock etched upon their faces.
Brayden clears his throat and releases my hands, taking a step back from me. I stand up and straighten my skirt, quickly trying to straighten my hair and compose myself.
“First time in Vegas?” Brayden asks the couple. “I only ask because if you've been here before, you've had to have seen weirder shit than that.”
I practically sprint out of the elevator as the couple enters, their faces still stunned – though the woman seems to be at least a little bit amused by the situation. Taking my hand, Brayden leads me down the hall to his room. He uses the electronic key, and when he pushes the door open, allowing me to step inside, my eyes grow wider than I thought humanly possible as my jaw nearly hits the floor. This isn't a room – it's a suite. And an absolutely gorgeous one at that.
Marble tile lines the foyer and the main rooms. There's a small kitchenette and a living room with all the fabrics done in black and gold. On either side of the main room are French doors – presumably leading to the two bedrooms. The lighting inside is soft and the artwork tasteful – surprising for Vegas, given the city's fondness for excess. All things considered, the room is elegant and shockingly, a little understated.
“First time in the Bellagio?” Brayden asks.
I nod. “Oh yeah,” I say. “And let me tell you, this place beats the hell out of the Rio.”
“You're staying at the Rio?” he asks, sounding surprised. “I figured that a girl who comes from money like you would be staying here or at the Wynn or something.”
I shrug. “I came from money,” I say. “Doesn't mean I have it.”
“Fair enough,” he says, a curious look crossing his face.
He wisely decides to not focus on that, but on me instead. Brayden takes my hand and leads me through the common area to the French doors on the left. He opens the doors and ushers me inside, closing them behind us.
“Is your friend here?” I ask, almost nervously.