Bex looks around again, sadness in her eyes now. “People have been staring at us since we got here,” she says, reaching for her champagne. “No doubt wondering why someone like you is with, well… someone like me.” She tips back the champagne and downs half the flute in one go. Damn.
I don’t look around the room because I know I won’t see what she sees. Everywhere I go, especially here in Vegas, people stare. Seeing an adult film star in the wild is a rare occurrence for most people, and after almost twenty years in this industry, I’ve learned how to put blinders on.
No, it’s not the people staring that concern me. It’s the reason Bex thinks they’re staring.
“Bex, people are staring because they’re jealous that I’m out with a smoking hot woman and they’re not.” I reach my hand out again, and she hesitates before taking it. Giving her a reassuring squeeze, I confess, “I’ve been holding back from complimenting you all evening because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Compliments make me uncomfortable; it’s true,” she admits, giggling. “I never know what to say.”
“Well, you could start by accepting them as fact. You’re a fucking smokeshow, Bex,” I say, lowering my voice and leaning closer to her. Bex swallows hard and my cock twitches. “I meant what I said earlier. I want nothing more than to take you back to my hotel, get you naked, and worship every goddamn curve of your body.”
“Corey,” she gasps, all giggles disappearing as the flush from her cheeks travels down her neck.
Releasing her hand, I pick up my champagne and once again attempt a toast with her. This time, she raises her flute to mine, grinning.
“To being honest,” I say.
“Yeah… to being honest,” she replies.
We clink glasses and sip our champagne.
“And in light of being honest,” I say as Bex looks at me curiously with those luminous green eyes. I lean in even closer to ensure only she can hear me. “All I thought about at the club the other night was you. The way you whimpered when I licked that lime juice off your chin… fuck, I want to order tequila shots right now just to do that again.”
Bex flicks her tongue over her lips, and I can’t help but growl.
“So, before you even think ‘what am I doing with you’ again, just know… I’ve jerked off twice since I last saw you, thinking of thosebeautiful lips and how you’re going to look, staring up at me with your hair twisted in my fist.”
Chapter 8
Bex
Oh. My. God.
Corey’s eyes are molten, and I’m drawn into his warm, brown gaze. “Is that honest enough for you?” he asks as he reaches out to cup my face with his hand.
There are words formulating somewhere in the recesses of my brain, but I sit here, my mouth hanging open slightly, unable to actually process a response into words and out of my mouth. Corey’s thumb strokes back and forth over my cheek, and I sigh into his touch.
I close my eyes for a moment and allow myself to simplyfeel. His touch on my skin, the caress of his thumb near my lips. He’s sitting close enough to me that I can feel the magnitude of his presence, even with my eyes closed. I have been wet since the moment this man pulled upto my apartment building—in a goddamn limo, of all things—and at this point, I’m positively soaked, almost to the point of embarrassment. I wonder if my arousal is noticeable on my face, beyond my flushed cheeks.
Corey sits back suddenly, and my cheek immediately feels the cool abandonment as he removes his hand from my face.
“Baby, I love hearing that voice of yours, but something about rendering you speechless has me fucking buzzing,” he says, taking a sip of his bourbon.
Shaking myself from whatever trance descended upon me with his “honest confession,” I also take a sip of my drink. I want to tell him that I’ve never had a man say something like that to me. That I’ve never had a man look at me with the intensity and heat that he’s looking at me with right now. But I don’t tell him those things, because it circles right back to the “why me” thoughts that have been plaguing me since the beginning of this date.
I fiddle nervously with my earring and find the courage to finally respond. “Your honesty sounds a bit rehearsed,” I say, attempting a laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Which one of your movies is that from?”
It was intended to be a joke, but I see the moment it lands awkwardly by the way Corey’s jaw tightens, and he looks away.
“Corey, I was kidding,” I say, trying to recapture the moment we were just having before I had to open my mouth.
He grins back at me, and I can tell it’s fake, like he’s pretending my words didn’t hurt, and he’s unaffected. “I know, Bex,” he says, and my heart stutters because he used my name and not some sort of pet name like sugar or baby. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.
Corey switches the conversation back to me as we steer ourselves further away from my awkward comment, finishing our cocktails.
I’m able to fully forget the idiotic thing I said when he asks me about the pictures he found on my social media. Sitting up taller in my chair, I enthusiastically tell him about my love for photography as a hobby, how I found a place where I could share that love and give back to the community.
“It’s far from a traditional photography class,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. “I never had the money for a real camera growing up to get into this hobby myself, so everything I learned how to do has basically been from my phone.”
