Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

Damien Fox was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. At least he would be until he opened his mouth, then there would be several adjectives one could replace ‘handsome’ with.

I’d taken up position behind the bar when I’d finally emerged from the staff room half an hour ago. It was nothing more than a stall for time. I’d hoped we’d be busy enough at this point that I’d have to cancel to work, but apparently, Abby and Fergus had seen right through that and had called in reinforcements.

Abby nudged me. “Go.”

I made a face at her. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m making you go. I’m getting annoyed being in the same building as him.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I’m being forced into this.”

“Yes, your ability to say ‘no’ has mysteriously disappeared,” she replied dryly.

She wasn’t wrong there.

“Go, Dahlia. He’s only going to sit there all night if you don’t.”

That much was true. As much as I wish it weren’t, I knew better.

“Fine.” I grabbed my purse from beneath the bar. “You’ll call me if there’s a problem?”

“As always. What can I get for you?” She turned her body away from me and toward the customer she was about to serve.

Sighing, I tucked my purse against my body and stepped out from behind the bar. Damien was perched at a tall table and the center of attention for every woman within ten feet of him. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. His eyes were fixed firmly on me as I approached him.

His gaze was as compellingly intense as always, even as he dropped it to my feet and slowly crawled it up my body with obvious appreciation.

I stopped in front of the table. “Do you want me to take a step back so you can undress me with your eyes again?”

He tugged his lips up to one side. “It’s not my eyes I want to undress you with.”

“Carry on making promises you don’t keep, and I’ll start thinking you’re full of hot air.”

He stood, taking a step toward me, and reached for my face. He trailed his thumb along the curve of my bottom lip, his eyes darting to my mouth for a moment. “Well then, I feel obliged to tell you that after dinner, I’m going to take you home and fuck you ‘til you scream.”

I looked him dead in the eye and said, “You better eat quickly, then.”

His eyes widened. They went back to normal so quickly it could have been a twitch, but the slow way his lips formed a smirk told me it was deliberate. “Are you being…agreeable, Ms. Lloyd?”

“Are you talking shit again, Mr. Fox? Because we’re still standing here.”

“I have a better idea.” He dropped his hand to my waist and pulled me against him. “I’ll cook at my place. Then you’ll already be where I need you to be.”

“Then let’s go.”

Damien took my hand in a firm grip, and we wove our way through the crowds building in the bar.

I’d lost my damn mind, because despite my resolve earlier this evening, now I felt sick. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, flipping it this way and that, yet there was a fission of excitement, too. One that danced its way through my veins and sent goose bumps up my arms. One that tickled its way down my spine until I had to hide a smile by dipping my head.

We stepped outside into the evening warmth. It was still too hot to be entirely comfortable, and if I was hot in a dress, God knows how he was cool wearing all black.

Even his fucking car was black, for the love of God.

“How are you not too hot?” I asked as he reached for the back door. “Does your clothing match your soul?”

He looked back at me, still gripping my hand, and half-smiled. “They say dress for the job you want.”

“Judging by your all-black attire, you either want to be a pimp or Satan.”

“I’d take Satan,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he fought a laugh. “The power to make people do what I want would be fun.”

“By that logic, you’re already the devil.”

“Says the one wearing red.”

“It’s my color.” I flashed him a smile and got in the car.

He leaned forward to the front window before joining me in the back. The partition between the front and back of the car was closed, and the black, tinted glass afforded us almost complete privacy.

My cheeks heated at the memory of what happened last time we were in the back of this car. It wasn’t just my cheeks that got warm—my clit ached at the memory of how easily he’d turned me on without kissing me. The firm way he’d touched my body and pushed his fingers inside me flashed in the forefront of my mind, prompting me to reach for the seatbelt in an effort to shake it away.