Endless Nights (Vegas Nights 2)

Now she looked confused. “Huh?”

“There’s a bunch of stores over there.” He nodded toward the giant sign hanging overhead in the near distance, indicating with an arrow exactly where all of those exclusive, expensive shops were.

“You want to buy me…underwear?” she asked incredulously.

Maybe she thought he was some sort of pervert with a lingerie fetish. Which okay, granted, he might be. It all started with those damn Victoria’s Secret catalogs that used to come to the house when he was a kid. Those women posing provocatively in their delicate lacy things were his first taste, and he naturally progressed to stealing his dad’s Playboy magazines.

He still preferred the VS girls. Something about being covered up and slowly revealed…yeah. He wanted to get Andrea into some sexy stuff.

Then peel it all off her later.

“I won’t be able to function much longer if we continue walking around here, knowing that you’re naked beneath the dress,” he admitted, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s all I can think about.”

Her eyes darkened, a sure sign she was aroused. He was already figuring out her tells. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Luke nodded, tracing the shell of her ear, drawing his finger along her jaw. Her lips parted on a sigh and he noticed the way her pulse throbbed at the base of her neck. “So let’s get you something pretty, okay? And then later tonight, I’ll take it all off. Piece by piece.”

“That sounds…nice.” She drew in a sharp breath when he leaned in close and pressed his cheek to hers, his mouth right at her ear.

“It’ll be real nice. Hopefully you’ll let me come into the dressing room so you can model everything for me,” he whispered.

“They won’t let us do that…” she started, and he kissed her once, silencing her with his lips.

“Trust me, they’ll let me do whatever the hell I want,” he murmured, giving her another kiss before he pulled away.

Andrea gazed up at him, blinking slowly, looking a little dazed. This was fun. Being with her, teasing her, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed her. Couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun with a woman…

“Hey, aren’t you Luke Nelson with the Seahawks?”

He turned to find two couples who looked about his age standing in front of them, the men staring at him like he was some sort of alien.

“Don’t tell me you’re Niner fans,” he started, making all of them laugh.

“No, bro, we’re from Seattle! We love you,” one of them said, the others nodding in agreement. “Can we get your autograph?”

“Sure,” Luke said easily, glancing over at Andrea, who was watching the entire interaction with amazement.

He signed cocktail napkins that they grabbed from a passing waitress’s tray and took photos with them. Andrea even offered to take a photo of all of them with him and they agreed, offering each of their phones as she snapped one picture after another.

“Thanks for being a good sport,” he said once the two couples left them.

She shrugged, smiling. “It was fun. They were so excited to meet you.”

“Yeah.” It was weird. He’d gotten used to the fame over the years but it was still odd. Especially when he was recognized outside of his element. “They were nice.”

“You were nice.” She curled her arm around his and leaned her head against him, giving him a squeeze. “You’re a good guy.”

His chest felt tight. Why did her praise make him feel so…proud? Why did he care so much?

He didn’t like it. Her opinion really shouldn’t matter to him. She was a weekend fling while on a getaway in Vegas. That was it. He needed to remember that.

“Enough of the nice guy talk,” he practically growled, slipping his arm around her shoulders and steering her toward the corridor that led toward the shops. “Let’s find you something sexy to wear under that dress.”

“What, I’m not sexy enough?” she teased, eyes flashing as she smiled up at him.

“Baby, you are too sexy for your own good.” He bent down and pressed a quick, firm kiss to her lips, trying his best to ignore the buzz that shot through him at first contact with her mouth. Every single time it happened.

Every. Single. Fucking. Time.