Beautiful Bombshell (5 page)

Her eyes widened in slight challenge. “Well, you go have your fun night, I’ll go have mine.”

With a smile, I leaned in to kiss her, letting her deepen it with her hands on my face, sliding into my hair and around the back of my neck. “I feel like I could fuck for hours,” she whispered into my mouth, and I almost lost it right then; Sara rarely swore, and when she did, it always made me hard. “I just feel a little hollow with how much I want you tonight.”

I groaned and pressed my face into her neck.

“I know, I know,” she murmured, and when she pressed her hands to my chest, I stepped back so she could stand. “I’m sure Chloe is done. We should go.”

We exited from the same door I’d come in, which,
unfortunately, was the only way in or out of the room. I preferred the separate exit at Red Moon. It was one thing to know people were out there; it was another thing to possibly see them.

But luckily whoever had been outside had disbanded before we emerged, most likely having already seen me wrap Sara in her robe. When we passed down the hall, we slipped behind other patrons, and I couldn’t help but wonder,
had they seen?

I couldn’t decide if I felt fucking awesome—I’d basically just gotten my fiancée off in about three minutes in a back room of a swanky sex club—or more worked up and frustrated than I’d been in a long time. Fucking Chloe. The way she left made her little act feel like some sort of punishment for being in Vegas over Valentine’s Day. But, shit, if I knew my fiancée at all, I knew that—no matter our role in the marketing world—she found the whole prospect of a manufactured romantic holiday completely ridiculous. Clearly she just jumped at the opportunity to play a little game and leave me in her favorite state: worked up and pissed off.

And fucking
Max
. Had he known Chloe was going to tease me like this? And, if he did . . . well, actually that was a little personal and creepy. I’d either have to kick his ass or drop something sleep-inducing into his drink and tattoo “I’m a wanker” in permanent ink all over his face.

But my revenge would have to wait. Max was gone when
I returned, and Henry and Will had the glassy-eyed look of two men given booze and women in heaping quantities.

“How goes it out here?” I asked, sitting back in my chair and picking up what I expected to be a mostly empty drink. Except, no. The drink was fresh, my plate of food refilled. I caught Gia’s eyes across the room and raised my glass to her. For all of the mysterious corners and questionable sex acts behind closed doors, the staff was certainly on the job. She nodded to me, smiling, and then disappeared behind the bar. I couldn’t help but notice that, in my time away, she’d removed everything else she wore and was now serving her tables completely nude.

I hoped for her sake it was a pleasant experience. It sounded a bit like one of my own recurring nightmares.

“How was the dancer?” Henry asked, still not bothering to look away from the stage. I probably could have lit his chair on fire and he wouldn’t have noticed until the flames in his hair obstructed his view.

I studied him, trying to discern whether he was in on Chloe’s surprise, but he didn’t grin knowingly or even look all that interested in my answer. Will, too, only looked at me with bland curiosity.

“It was fine,” I said.

“Quick,” Will noted.

I grinned. Fuck yes, it was. I almost wished one of them
did
know about Chloe and her little stunt so I could at least get a high-five.

“There’s some fucking amazing women here,” Henry muttered. “I could watch this for the rest of the night.”

Will stretched, checking his watch. “I’m starving, though. Don’t we have dinner reservations? It’s almost ten.”

“Where’s the Brit?” I asked, doing another survey of the giant room. It would be impossible to find him in here without checking each corner and bar.

“Don’t know,” Will said, shrugging and draining his scotch. “Disappeared right after you did.”

Awareness tickled at the edge of my thoughts before understanding went off like a bomb: Sara was here, too. Chloe didn’t answer when I asked whether she’d come here alone, but I couldn’t imagine she came here solo just for this. Unless she planned to return to her hotel room to lounge in a bubble bath all night, she most definitely had other plans. If I’d been able to get a room alone with Chloe, no doubt Max was getting some time with his girlfriend somewhere as well.

After another drink and at least a handful of songs, Max returned to the table, approaching from behind us. I hadn’t even seen him coming.

“Lads!” he proclaimed, clapping me on the back. “How are we enjoying all of the naked tits?”

We all murmured some variation of
“Great,”
and with a laugh that communicated how relaxed he was, Max lowered himself into the chair beside me.

“How was the dance, Ben?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “Not so bad after all, was it?”

I shrugged and took in his drunken smile. He looked about as relaxed as I was wound up. “You just got laid, didn’t you, you fucking asshole?”

His eyes went wide and he leaned closer. “Didn’t
you
?”

“Fuck no,” I whispered, shaking my head, and Max burst out laughing. “She took care of herself, and then
left
.”

He let out a low whistle and then sighed. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up with her back home and give her some payback.”

Was he serious? He expected me to let her go for the rest of the night—maybe even the rest of the long weekend—after doing something like that?

“Where are they headed?” I asked under my breath.

Max shrugged, scooping some caviar onto a blini from my plate. “Don’t know, actually. Think they leave in the morning, though.”

“Where are they staying?”

“Dunno. Sara took care of all of it.” He seemed so much less concerned with all of this than I was . . . but of course he was. He clearly just got fucked in some room in the back while I only got to watch Chloe masturbate with my hand.

I glanced at the far wall just as Chloe and Sara stepped out from the black hallway, laughing together, arms linked. Max followed my attention and exhaled a deep breath. “Bloody hell they’re lovely.”

“Wonder where they’re headed,” I murmured.

Max looked over at me, already shaking his head as if he’d read my mind. “We’ve got a full night planned, mate.”

“I’m sure we do.”

“And they’re doing their own thing.”

“I’m sure they are.”

He paused, watching as Sara caught his gaze and held it. Something passed from her eyes to his, something heavy and pleading. Behind her, Chloe looked up from where she’d been digging in her purse and saw me. Her lips parted and her hand fluttered up to her chest. In her eyes I could see genuine concern. Maybe even a touch of guilt. “You okay?” she mouthed.

If she felt guilty after her little act, then I was happy. I smirked. “No.”

But any sign of guilt vanished as she smiled wickedly, blowing me a kiss and tugging Sara’s arm. Together, Max and I watched them leave the club through the heavy steel doors we came through on entry.

“Fuck,” Max whispered. “We’re a couple of lucky arseholes.”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

I looked up and met his eyes. I knew he had a night planned, knew our activities were packed. But really, it was Friday night and we were here until Tuesday. Would it really matter if I slipped away for only an hour?

He leaned forward, grabbed my forearm, and started laughing. “Don’t even fucking
think
about it, Bennett.”

After the dim, almost cavelike atmosphere of the club, stepping outside was like being hit with a floodlight. Towering hotels crowded the dark sky and even from this distance, we could see the glow of LED and neon signs flashing from every casino on the strip. And
Christ,
was it loud. The sound of traffic blasted up from the street as we stood in the curved driveway in front of the building and waited for our driver. Cars stopped at the curb across the street, were emptied or loaded up before being driven away again. People of every shape and size shuffled by, horns honked in the distance, a series of sirens blared from a street a few blocks over.

And water
everywhere
—tinkling water features that filled the valet areas, the crashing sounds of waterfalls from the bigger hotels, and a massive fountain that nearly every tourist tossed coins into as they passed—even here, away from the glitz and glamour of the large casinos.

As if reading my mind, Henry walked over to a three-tiered fountain, peeking inside before skipping a poker chip across the rippling surface. “Who would have thought there’d be so much water in the desert?”

Will walked out behind us, taking off his coat even though it was cold out. “Water is a necessity of life,” he said. “In order for a society to survive they need water to maintain its population. Such a seemingly cavalier and extravagant use
of an important resource would illustrate that a community is thriving. A thriving populace makes people feel optimistic; an optimistic tourist spends more money and boosts the economy.” He shrugged, placing a stick of chewing gum into his mouth. “Plus, it’s just fucking pretty, you know?”

Henry gaped at him. “You really are a nerd.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Max said, smiling fondly.

Will lifted his chin toward Henry. “I’m not the one that just tossed a hundred-dollar chip into a fountain because it’s what I’ve been conditioned to do. So thanks for proving my point.”

Henry’s eyes widened and he raced back to the edge of the water. “Son of a bitch.”

Will leaned back against the brick façade, hands in his pocket and suit jacket tucked in the crook of his arm. “So how are we continuing this weekend of debauchery? Dinner and then what? Skydiving? Virgin sacrifice? Matching tattoos to commemorate the loss of Ben’s balls?”

I smirked at him. Will had become a fixture in our lives ever since Max and Sara had reconciled. The five of us saw each other several times a week for lunches, dinners, and shows. Will was the designated bachelor of the group, and seemed to enjoy reminding us that Max and I were pussy-whipped non-men. “The thing you couldn’t possibly understand, Will, is there is a benefit to fucking only one woman: she learns
exactly
what to do. I’m more than happy to give Chloe full access to my balls.”

At this Henry stepped away from the fountain again and moved toward Will. “Besides, a hundred bucks says you couldn’t even
find
a virgin in this place.”

Will glanced down to Henry’s waiting palm and laughed. “We’ve only been out of that club for two minutes and you’ve just thrown away a hundred-dollar poker chip
and
offered another hundred-dollar bet. I can’t wait to see what you do in an actual casino.”

“I win money,” Henry said, pounding his chest with drunken machismo, before wincing.

I groaned, scrubbing my face with my hand. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You just got a lap dance, Benny,” Henry said, shoving my shoulder. “How are you crabby? You should be smiling like a fool.”

I turned in the direction of Max’s laughter. “Ignore him,” he told the others while motioning to me. “Our Ben’s just feeling a bit frustrated is all.”

Fucking Max.
With his hands in his pockets and that dopey smile on his face, he was a portrait of nonchalance, and the exact opposite of everything I felt.

I could strangle Chloe right now—a feeling I’d grown increasingly familiar with since the day we met. All this time and she could
still
push my buttons like no other. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure which of us was more fucked up: her for getting off on teasing me like this, or me for enjoying it so damn much.

“So . . . plans?” Will repeated, pushing away from the building. “Are we standing here all night watching Bennett throw a fit or. . . ?”

Max checked his watch. “Dinner,” he said. “Mum made us reservations for the Steakhouse over at the Wynn. Supposed to be top-notch.”

Looking for our driver, I turned to look down the street, and a flash of green caught my eye at the opposite corner.
Chloe.
I’d last seen her with Sara, all bright eyes and teasing smiles as she’d left me inside the club. Now they waited on the sidewalk, arms outstretched as they attempted to hail a cab.

I blinked quickly to Max, who was busy arguing with Will and Henry about whether it was physically possible to eat a twenty-four-ounce porterhouse in less than fifteen minutes. Perfect.

I spotted our car as it rounded the corner and began its way up the drive toward us, and realized I’d have to act quickly. With only the vaguest threads of a plan in place, I grimaced, hunching over and pressing a hand to my stomach.

“You okay over there, Ben?” Will asked, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, fine,” I said, waving him off. “My stomach’s just a little . . . I think my ulcer’s acting up.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “You have an ulcer?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding, and sucking in breath for added effect.

“You,”
he repeated. “An ulcer.”

I straightened a little. “Is there a problem?”

He scratched his eyebrow and looked at me skeptically. “Suppose I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that the great and powerful Bennett, the one whose blood-pressure barely blinks even in the most stressful meetings and has zero fucks to give about anyone’s opinion”—he motioned between all three of them—“including ours,” he added, “has an ulcer.”

Our car pulled up to the curb in front of us just as a taxi stopped in front of Sara and Chloe.

“Well, I do,” I said, meeting his stare again. Our driver opened the door and waited.
Everyone
waited, eyes moving from Max to me and back again.

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this ulcer business?” Henry asked.

“Because you’re not my doctor or my mommy,” I said. They all stared at me in silence, looking various degrees of concerned or, in Max’s case, doubtful. “Look, why don’t you all take the car while I run to the pharmacy. I saw one just down the street.”