I wanted his jokes and surprises and uncanny ability to raise the stakes.
Britney’s gaze met mine and she grinned. “Damn, girl, you’re gorgeous too! What’s with all of the beautiful people in Vegas tonight?”
The crowd shouted their approval.
“So, Thatch,” she said as her dancers moved around him and started sliding something over his neck. “Would Cassie say you’re a naughty boy?”
Where most guys would have been dying from embarrassment, standing up on stage while wearing a shirt with Britney’s face, Thatch did the complete opposite. He just chuckled and answered, “She sure as hell wouldn’t say I’m nice.”
I bit my lip as the crowd lost their fucking minds, shouting proposals and innuendos so loud I had to cover my ears to dull the roar.
Britney laughed as Thatch met my eyes and shrugged at the attention.
“Let’s get freaky, Vegas!” Britney shouted as the beat of “Freakshow” pounded from the speakers.
My gaze followed the dancers as they crowded around the sexy ogre in the center of the stage. They rocked it out, dancing in sync with one another with gyrations and short flicks of their arms and hair to the sexy beat.
I slid my phone out of my back pocket and started to record every second of this perfect, blackmail-worthy moment.
A giant grin consumed my face as Thatcher Kelly became a prop at a Britney Spears concert. I wolf-whistled as the dancers led him by a harness-leash across the stage and he followed on his motherfucking hands and knees, crawling across the stage until his leash was handed off to the pop diva herself. Britney led him down the center platform, and he followed without an ounce of shame or embarrassment on his face.
He was urged to his feet by the dancers and moved toward the center of their freestyle circle.
And that’s when Thatch got freaky as fuck. My cheeks threatened to cover my eyes as I watched him grind and move with seriously impressive moves.
Goddamn. Channing who?
For a guy his size, he could get down, and I decided I’d need to test his reaction to “Pony” at some point in the future. His body moved in sync with the seductive beat, and every woman in attendance was screaming her excitement. He even obliged the woman stage left who screamed for him to “Take it off, hot stuff!”
With a cocky grin, Thatch slid off his T-shirt and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. His muscular chest and ripped arms shone beneath the spotlight, and the venue was filled with high-pitched screams. He danced. Britney sang. And by the end of the song, I was pretty sure the charming, sexy idiot had won over every female in attendance, including the pop princess.
“Rule number fifty. Never volunteer me to go on stage unless you want some serious paybacks,” was the first thing he said to me when he made it back to our seats.
I laughed. “Oh, get over yourself. You took your fucking shirt off. We both know you were enjoying every minute of that.”
He winked. “Don’t be jealous, honey. I’ll take my shirt and pants off for you tonight.”
“Cool the fucking ego,” I teased and playfully smacked his arm.
He grinned and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, tugging my back to his chest. “If you’re a good girl, Cass,” he whispered in my ear, “I’ll lick your cunt just the way you like.”
Crude? Yes.
But did it turn me on? Of course.
I looked up at him underneath my lashes and smiled. “Deal.”
We stayed in that position until Britney finished the show. As the venue started to clear out, Thatch grabbed my hand to lead me out of our aisle, but I couldn’t find the will to move my feet. I just stood there, looking around the half-filled room, while I tried like hell to wrap my mind around the night’s events.
I was overwhelmed, and it had nothing to do with Britney Spears or front-row seats or getting a video of Thatch crawling across a stage on a leash.
It was him. He was overwhelming me.
But not in a bad way.
It was in an all-consuming kind of way.
I just couldn’t believe he had done this. He’d changed his plans in L.A. to drive five hours to Vegas to cheer me up. And he hadn’t just shown up and taken me to dinner. No. He’d pulled some serious strings for tickets to a concert I had been dying to go to. A concert I had maybe mentioned to him once that I had been wanting to see.
But he’d remembered.
And he hadn’t hesitated to drop everything for me.
He tugged on my hand again, but he stopped and glanced back when he realized I wasn’t moving.
“You okay, honey?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He stepped toward me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I answered truthfully. “I’m just overwhelmed by how right everything feels.”
Placing his fingers under my chin, he lifted my eyes to his. His eyes turned soft as his gaze locked with mine.
“Thank you for tonight. This was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”