10:12 p.m.
I pay my fare, exit the cab, and carry my silver clutch as I push through the revolving doors. The lobby is the casino floor, boisterous with multicolored slots and gamblers. Packed tight.
I’m not out of place. The average age is young. About twenties to mid-thirties, and most are dressed like they’re ready to hit the nightclubs.
I look up as I walk further inside, thousands of crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Modern with a regal touch—it’s breathtaking.
“Baylee.”
My gaze falls, straight ahead, just as Luka rises off a velvet bar stool. My lips part at how utterly gorgeous he is in formalwear.
Black slacks fit him perfectly, and his white button-down contrasts his dark hair but brings out his emotive gray eyes. His hair is slightly wet. Like he didn’t have time to dry the strands.
His hot gaze travels down my body in an intoxicating once-over, his desire so apparent. My neck instantly heats.
I can’t contain a smile as we near one another, my pulse pounding. “Hey,” I say, my voice more breathy than I intend.
He clutches my hip and whispers, “You look gorgeous.”
Butterflies. I feel them tenfold. “Funny,” I say seriously, “I was going to say the same about you.”
“Gorgeous?” His lips stretch.
I go off of impulse. Feeling. I touch his cheek with a tender hand, and our gazes devour one another. My fingers trace the hard, dominant line of his shaven jaw, and I intake the soft, virtuousness around his eyes.
“Yeah,” I breathe, “gorgeous.”
Luka shifts my hand towards his lips, places a warm kiss on my palm, and then threads our fingers together. He nods towards the elevators. “You can say no, but I got us a room for the night.”
My new overwhelming smile, I try to tame a bit more. “I’m not going to say no.” There’s no practice tomorrow. It’s our one free day this week, and I already texted Brenden I was going to Netflix and chill alone tonight.
I’m ready for Luka to really touch me. So ready that I’m wearing pink lacy underwear instead of my usual cotton.
Luka smiles a captivating, panty-dropping smile. “This way.” He takes charge, guiding me to the elevators, our hands never separating.
We slide into an elevator that quickly compacts with other twenty-somethings, chatting loudly. He pushes the 25 button and slips further back with me. As the doors shut, I scoot closer to Luka, and he leans his arm against the wall-mirror.
He catches me staring at him, and the corners of his lips lift again.
“Your hair is wet,” I say. “Did you leave fast?”
He sighs at a recent memory. “You don’t want to know.”
“Now I really do.” The elevator jerks to a stop, letting off only one person on the fourth floor. This may take a while. Now that I’m with him, I don’t mind at all.
“I couldn’t get in the bathroom until ten minutes before I left.”
“Why?”
He lowers his voice. “Dimitri was jerking off.”
I cringe, not wanting to picture Dimitri masturbating.
“Exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“You didn’t see him, did you?” I wonder, too curious not to ask.
“No. I have seen too much of my cousins, but that’s not something I’ve ever stumbled in on.”
Tenth floor. His hand slips around my waist, to my lower back. I’m nervously stiff, so I try to bring up casual conversation again. “Have you ever walked in on someone having sex?”
“Oh yeah.”
My mouth falls. This must be a Vegas thing because it never happened to him in New York. “Who?”
“Erik, Robby, Timofei. All different occasions. I didn’t mean to see them. They were fucking in the living room of their suite, and I wasn’t always alone when I went inside.”
“What did you do?”
“I walked right out.”
I nod. “Smart.”
He starts laughing.
“What?” My smile grows.
Sixteenth floor. “That’s literally the first time I’ve been called smart with zero sarcasm. Thank you, Bay.”
“Anytime.” I smooth my lips together, restraining my smile some.
Nineteenth floor, the elevator almost empties. We’re left with two couples in matching tuxes and shimmery gold gowns.
We go silent, but his eyes practically undress me. I breathe shallowly, and his hand descends to my ass. My body curves towards him, wanting his whole build to press up against me. I imagine the power, the strength and force—and my knees feel weak and my skin bare.
His other hand travels discreetly up my hip. Then he brings me close, pretending to hug me, but really his hand is making a scorching trail up to my chest.
“One,” he whispers against my ear. One: over-the-clothes touching.
He memorized my list.
I feel wet and hot all over. But I’m more rigid than I want to be. “I’m nervous,” I admit in a soft breath.
He draws back, just to study my expression, and I have trouble making direct eye contact. I watch the two couples leave on the twenty-second floor.
The doors close.
We’re alone, and the elevator ascends.
“I’ll take care of you,” he assures me. “You tell me to stop, at any point, and I’ll stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I’m just overwhelmed.” I haven’t been this consumed by someone. It’s more than just being physically attracted to each other. It’s knowing him. Loving who he is.
And him loving who I am.
He nods. “Just remember to breathe, and you’ll be fine.”
“Planning to steal my breath away?”
His hands return to my hips as he whispers, “Caught me.”
I grip his button-down. Our bodies aching to meld together, but we wait. And the elevators spring open. Our floor.
Luka walks me backwards. His large hands sear through my dress. We enter the empty carpeted hallway, chandeliers dangling in a long row.
I pop a button of his shirt. His palm runs up the curve of my body, veering to my boobs again. No bra, his thumb skims my hardened nipple, fabric of my dress keeping his skin from my skin.
I quiver from the drawn-out sexual tension, my lips parting in a heady breath. I undo his shirt halfway.
His clutch strengthens on my body, and his left hand descends my hipbone…lower and lower. Reaching the hem of my dress, he pulls the fabric up, just slightly and his hand moves to my bare, inner-thigh.
Oh God. I have to hang onto his biceps, throbbing. I’m throbbing for him to push his cock hard inside of me and pump and pump.
And Luka says, “I’m going to kiss the fuck out of you.”
I almost fall against him, but he has me. Pulls me against his body. Seizes me completely. His hand to the back of my head, he kisses me so passionately that a noise catches my throat. I grasp his neck for support as the kiss drives deeper.
He cups my heat—and I’m so soaked. His fingers skim my panties between my legs. I shudder against him. Where the hell are we?
I’m barely coherent to see.
A hallway.
An empty hallway, thankfully.
I kiss back. Just as hungrily. Our tongues dancing together. My hips arch towards his cock.
“Up,” he says in one breath. He hoists me, my legs wrapping around his waist. One hand on my ass, the other free, he takes out his keycard while we’re lip-locked.
Door open.
He carries me inside and kicks the door closed.
Then Luka sets me on my feet and spins me around, seamlessly pulling my back to his chest.
I catch my breath and digest my new surroundings: a king-sized bed with a wine-red comforter, a sleek dresser with a TV on top, a sultry velvet chaise, and drawn curtains to reveal tinted glass and a view of gleaming sin city.
While I lean against him, Luka kisses the base of my neck, and as he hits a bundle of nerves, a gasp breaches my lips, my hand searches for support. I end up clutching his muscular thigh.
His other palm roams my body, toying with my sensitive nipples. It feels amazing. I’m lit up, and we’re just on number one of my list.