The Decadent Gift Page 4

  See you this weekend.

  The radar beeped.

  Faster. Louder.

  Because those four words sounded like an opportunity of the golden variety.

  We clinked glasses and toasted to friendship, as was our custom.

  It fit. We were indeed friendly.

  But tonight, I was feeling frisky, too, and with the see you this weekend in my crosshairs, I needed to take a shot. Maybe with a bet.

  As I knocked back a swallow of my drink, I glanced at the dance floor. A woman in black leather sidled up against a man with sleeves of ink on both arms. They didn’t touch, but they danced at each other. Yes, that was a perfect entrée, and I was going to use it.

  “I bet they’re grinding in thirty seconds,” I said to Kate. She was a cat with catnip, unable to resist getting cozy with a wager.

  She arched a playful brow. “You’re only betting because you lost the last one.”

  “Please. You lost the checking-out-my-ass bet. Just admit it, Kate,” I teased, shooting her a grin.

  She shook her head exaggeratedly, like she was holding in a smile. “Nope. I was not thinking of your butt.”

  I scoffed, looking at my watch then at the couple. They were closer now, legs touching as they moved. They were easy to read. “Also, fifteen more seconds till the grind begins. That’s my bet, and I’m sticking to it. You going in?”

  She laughed, a happy, buoyant sound that I dug. “It’ll take forty-five seconds.”

  “That’s your prediction?”

  She crossed her arms, like she was throwing down the gauntlet. “That’s my guarantee.”

  I whistled my appreciation at her boldness. “You’re confident. How can you tell?”

  “From watching them,” she said, a little coy, a little flirty.

  She took a sip of her drink, then stared at the dance floor as the action unfolded. As if on cue, the woman in leather spun around, and the inked man yanked her to him, tugging her ass against his pelvis.

  Forty-five seconds. On the dot.

  “Impressive,” I said, with a low whistle.

  “It’s my party trick,” she said, like she was divulging a secret. And maybe she was.

  I marinated on that bit of intel as I knocked back more of my drink. “Makes sense, since you’re the Goddess of Observation.”

  Her gaze swung to me, her eyes blazing with curiosity. “Is that what they call me?”

  She seemed intrigued, maybe pleased that someone was seeing her, reading her. “That’s what you are,” I said, sensing a chance. “You like to watch. To see what everyone is up to. In fact, maybe we should bet again.”

  She didn’t answer right away. She lifted her drink, took a swallow, and set it down. “But you need to pay up first, mister, since I won the last one with my forty-five second prediction.” A little sassy, she held out her hand like she was waiting for money.

  I chided her, wagging a finger. “But we didn’t bet for anything. We need stakes if you’re trying to make me go broke, woman.”

  She tilted her head and surveyed the dance floor, her eyes stopping in the direction of a tiny blonde in a white dress making eyes at a hipster in skinny jeans a few feet from her. “Them,” Kate said, with a subtle point of her finger. “I bet in one minute he’ll have an arm around her waist, his hand on her ass. If it takes longer, I lose.”

  “And what are the stakes?”

  “I have some ideas.” She licked her lips, and as she did, a flash of heat crossed her hazel eyes.

  That flash of heat sure as hell sent my radar pinging. That heat wasn’t hard to read whatsoever. I moved closer. “Same here. And I know what we need to bet for.”

  “Tell me,” she said, a little breathless.

  I had an idea. A dirty, delicious idea. So much better than a spa weekend. “You want to know the stakes? You sure you’re ready for them?”

  “I’m sure.” The two words were a challenge, and the way she returned my stare made it clear she wasn’t backing down.

  I sure as hell wasn’t either.

  Not tonight.

  Not after my sister’s advice. Not after the guys’ comments. And definitely not after the earlier texts with Kate.

  Flirty, innuendo-laced texts.

  Texts that had made the radar listen in the first place.

  Now it was shouting in my head.

  And I knew what it was saying.

  Opportunity.

  I stared at Kate’s lush, full lips. I took my time, lifted my glass, downed the rest of the drink, then set it on the counter. Stepping into her space, I swept a lock of her hair off her shoulder.

  She trembled ever so briefly then tried to play off her reaction, to brush some unseen lint off her shirt.

  Her shirt was pristine.

  I went for it.

  Because this was the opportunity.

  And I wanted to let her know I took her to bed in my dirty dreams.

  Did she do the same with me in hers? I’d been dying to know for months.

  Only one way to find out.

  Honesty.

  “One kiss.” It came out like a command.

  Hell, maybe it was.

  She stared at me, wide-eyed. She didn’t look down, didn’t back away. Simply held her chin high. “Are you truly betting a kiss?”

  “Yes. I am.” I clicked the stopwatch on my phone, counting the seconds. The room thrummed with music, bodies pulsing together, lips pressed, hips locked. The music seemed to vibrate in me too. My bones hummed as I pictured tasting her mouth for the first time. “Does that surprise you?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t,” she said softly, but still loud enough for me to hear.

  I inched closer, catching a faint hint of her scent, like honey and almonds. “So, are you taking the bet, Williams?”

  Her lips parted as she seemed to breathe in the night, the possibilities.

  We had to be one of her possibilities.

  Her tongue darted out briefly, a sign that maybe she was willing to take the bet.

  But when she didn’t say anything more, I gave her an out. “Or we can just pretend the bet never happened.”

  “Do you think I want to pretend it never happened?”

  “You tell me,” I said. This time I needed her to make the move. I had to know she wanted this—wanted me.

  I held up my phone. The stopwatch on it ticked past one minute. The time she’d predicted it’d take for the couple to be tangled up together.

  We both checked them out at the same time. The woman in white wasn’t dancing with the guy.

  Kate looked back at me and grinned.

  Wickedly.

  “Oops. It’s been more than a minute,” she said, lifting her chin. An offering. “Too bad I lost.”

  Her gaze darted around the club, and when she spotted a dark corner away from the dance floor, she led the way there.

  I didn’t need any more confirmation than that.

  But I got it when she turned around, leaned against the wall, and locked her eyes with mine.

  She was waiting for a kiss.

  And she’d wanted to lose.

  6

  Kate

  Just one kiss.

  That was it.

  That was all.

  Didn’t I deserve it?

  Tonight might not be a girls’ night out anymore, but if the maid of honor could have the Henry Cavill hottie, I could have one kiss as a bet.

  I deserved just a little bit of dessert.

  And Jake, holy hell, was he ever the definition of a decadent dessert.

  Besides, maybe he’d stop being a white-hot distraction after one kiss.

  It was possible.

  As I gazed at his handsome face, his carved cheekbones, his square jaw, his eyes drew me in the most—dark brown and full of dirty intent. This man knew what he wanted. I saw it in those irises, so much desire, and it thrilled me to be the one he craved.

  Thrilled me more than I was ready for.

  Jake close
d the remaining distance between us, clasped my cheeks, and dropped his mouth to mine.

  The second we kissed, my skin sizzled.

  My mouth tingled.

  And my breath caught.

  He swept his lips over mine, and in an instant, I knew.

  His kisses were everything.

  They were electric, hot, and heady.

  Exactly as I’d imagined in all my what-ifs.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d thought about kissing Jake. And kisses were only the start. In my imaginings, they’d spiral into touching, shift into filthy words, and descend into games, make-believe, and scenarios.

  I pictured it all with him ever since I’d started seeing him in a new light a few months ago.

  He kissed me greedily, answering all my questions. For months I’d wondered how he would kiss. Would he be hard, tender, curious?

  The answer was none of the above.

  Jake Hamilton kissed possessively.

  He kissed me with ownership.

  With his lips crushed to mine, he took my kiss. He commanded my body. His long, tall frame pressed against mine and gave me nowhere to go. And I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to feel everything in this moment. I wanted the sweet surrender to his lips. The scratch of his stubble. The taste of his breath.

  This was a brief and wondrous escape from the troubles that had plagued me during the last year.

  And what an escape it was.

  Lips crushing, tongues skating, hands holding my face. As he consumed my kisses, my mind tripped back to how he’d read my wishes when he made his comments. You’re the Goddess of Observation. You like to watch. To see what everyone is up to.

  Did he sense the full extent of my secret desires?

  That predicting when the couples on the dance floor would touch only skirted the surface of what turned me on most?

  I loved imagining the sex lives of other people.

  Imagining what others did behind closed doors. And, with the right man, I loved the idea of inventing scenarios for them. Talking about them. Getting off together to those scenes.

  I was a voyeur of sorts. I’d learned this about myself from observing the people in this city, from my job, and from the books I read.

  But I’d never practiced it. And now, with this sex-on-a-stick man devouring my lips in the dark corner of a club, I couldn’t stop thinking about my particular brand of voyeurism. I trembled as I pictured taking this game to the next level with Jake.

  To playing it.

  We’d meet at a bar, find another couple to watch, and we’d tell the story of their kink—winding each other up, turning each other on, getting ready.

  Would that couple over there like a sexy stewardess scenario? What about that one in the corner? Perhaps a handyman and hot housewife scene? Or those two over there? Maybe a boss-and-secretary game got them going?

  Pleasure swept through me at the prospect of that kind of dirty storytelling with a lover.

  As Jake kissed me hungrily, the reel in my mind flicked through images of all the games people played.

  The game we might play.

  Jake kissed like the kind of man who’d say yes if I asked him. He kissed like he’d be wildly aroused by taking me to a bar, only so we could turn each other on by watching others, by talking about their sex lives.

  He was that kind of adventurous lover.

  I could tell.

  Because his kiss was so much more than a kiss. It was a prelude to dark and dirty nights. It was a kiss that spoke of one-night stands. Of hot sex with a stranger. Of sweaty bodies, passion, and the kind of wild trysts you could order in this city after dark.

  I melted into his touch, giving in to the exquisite tension rising in my body, the lust radiating from where he pushed against me, making sure I felt the full length of his erection.

  I did.

  Dear God, I did. I felt every fantastic inch.

  And even though I knew I shouldn’t be doing this with him—a friend, a new business associate, a man I wasn’t going to get involved with, because I wasn’t going to get involved with anyone—I didn’t want to stop.

  Not at all.

  I looped my arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

  He liked that, judging from the rumble in his chest. The groan that fell against my lips.

  He kissed me harder, rougher, and by the time he broke the connection between our lips, I was a hot, wet mess.

  His eyes blazed with desire as he stared at me. The corner of his mouth curved up in a brash grin. Why did he wear such a cocky grin so well? I didn’t know the answer, but I liked that he did.

  He ran his fingers across my cheek. “As you can see, I always make good on my bets.”

  That was why he wore the grin well.

  He knew himself, knew his mind, and that electrified me. I’d never acted on my deepest fantasies, because I’d never been with a man who had the confidence in his identity to go to that place, to play those games.

  But Jake?

  I’d bet he could. I’d bet it all on that spin of the roulette wheel.

  And I wanted more of him. All of him.

  My breath came quickly, my heart raced, and my cells cried out for his touch.

  But I had a meeting to go to tomorrow.

  I had business to tend to.

  And stupid debts to pay off.

  I brushed my hair off my shoulder, trying to act cool. I couldn’t chance an entanglement. “I guess you did.”

  He pressed his hand against the wall behind me. “So, I believe you were about to say you don’t have any plans this weekend and you want to spend it under me?”

  Were we really going back to this? To the flirting?

  I laughed hard. It felt good to laugh with him, even though the kiss had only been a bet, my willpower temporarily breaking down.

  I straightened my spine. “I have to focus on the meeting tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I know. But the weekend comes after your meeting, Kate.” He wasn’t pushy. He was commanding and clear.

  He made me want to ditch my plans for him.

  But I needed my plans.

  So I made a lateral move, going for a tease. “I thought we were going to the movies,” I said ever so innocently.

  “We can do the movies, or we can do plenty of other things.” He toyed with the waistband of my jeans. Dear God, his fingers moving like that lit a new fire inside me. I was so damn hot and needy for this man.

  “Such as?”

  “For instance, we could deal with whatever this is.” His eyes never strayed from mine.

  “What is this?” I asked, nervous but wildly turned on too, as he seemed to see through me.

  He moved closer again, ran a finger along my neck, down my throat, between my breasts, and into the V of my shirt.

  “You know what this is. This is the last few months of tension between the two of us,” he said, stopping to brush his fingers across the fabric covering my belly, making me shudder. “This is the way I want you. And the way you want me.”

  There was something so wildly alluring about a man so straightforward about his wants and his needs. It was such a contrast to my ex, to the way he’d wanted to romance me, take me on dates, entice me with sweet seduction, and then used my good name to rack up all sorts of debt.

  I didn’t want to be fooled again.

  But Jake? He didn’t seem to be fooling me. He was simply being direct. Laying his cards on the table.

  Sex and nothing more.

  The trouble was, I had a mission, and that mission involved whatever Trish was going to throw at me tomorrow.

  It didn’t involve white-hot distractions.

  With every ounce of willpower I could muster, I raised my chin and answered the sexiest man I’d ever known, the man I was sure would finally engage my fantasies. “As enticing as your offer might be, I really should see what my boss has in store first.”

  He brushed his thumb over my chin, his eyes darkening, his voice
gravelly. “You know where to find me. And in the meantime, let me give you a little something in hopes that you’ll reconsider my offer.”

  He leaned in, and then he pressed the softest, most tender kiss against my neck.

  The bastard.

  The fucking bastard. Because that kiss was like a taste of honey. A sweet little spoonful of ice cream. And as much as I loved the hard and heavy, a dangerous part of me wanted this sweetness too.

  But I couldn’t have it.

  7

  Kate

  At ten the next morning, I perched in the black leather chair across from Trish Valentine. Her red hair was twisted high on her head in an elegant style, and her black glasses slid down the bridge of her nose. Over forty and stunning, the woman could command a room.

  There were only two of us in here, but when she spoke, I listened intently.

  She clasped her hands on her glass desk, flashed a smile, then began. “I can’t wait to tell you about this project. It’s a little bit daring. A little risqué. And you’re perfect for it.”

  I sat up straighter, brushing my hand across my trim black slacks. “I’m ready.”

  “I hope you’ve been thinking about great girls’ night out marketing strategies since last night. Because this one is going to challenge you in a whole new way.”

  “And why is that?” I asked, eager for my marching orders.

  Trish took a deep breath. “Because we just landed a pitch with Sin City Escorts.”

  I blinked. That account had been with one of our competitors. The rumor was Sin City Escorts paid handsomely and offered lots of incentives. And people used the service extensively, as last night’s ladies’ room encounter had demonstrated.

  I couldn’t quite believe that we might net this golden goose and Trish wanted me to be the . . . goose handler.

  Not that I was going to ask Trish if she was sure she wanted me to take it on if we won it. I wasn’t some doe-eyed newbie or prone to polite modesty. Instead, I squared my shoulders and said, “I’d be happy to look after the account.”

  That pleased Trish, judging from her satisfied grin.

  “Fantastic,” she said. “Because they left their old marketing firm, wanting a fresh approach to the world’s oldest profession. And I know you can provide a new take. You always think outside the box. You’re a lifer here in Vegas, but you still look around like there are new things to see, new things to observe. I think you’re going to surprise this potential client, and that’s what I want—to surprise them. Because they’re rolling out something new.”