“Oh.”
I could tell she was well versed in the salsa too because she tried to test me a few times. She didn’t lead, exactly, but I could tell she wanted me to step us up a notch.
The song ended, and our bodies pressed tightly together. She was breathing hard and her eyes closed and her back curved as I held her.
Applause sounded around us, and as we zoned back in, we saw a small group people who had formed a little circle of interest around us.
“Holy shit, isn’t that Dustin LeBlanc?” someone said. “Who’s the girl?”
“No photos, please,” I said, waving a hand in the air then turned back to Doctor Vidal. “Guess it’s time to wrap this up. Let’s get you back to your room.”
In the elevator, we could both feel the heat between our bodies. She got out at floor thirty-eight and I accompanied her.
“You really don’t have to,” she said.
“I insist. You never know what kind of creeps you’ll meet this time of night in Vegas,” I said as we reached her door.
“I met you,” she said, turning and leaning against the wall before going inside. “Are you a creep?”
I leaned in and brought my mouth to her ear. I could practically see the hair on her neck standing on end. “What did I tell you about projecting, you creep?” I whispered. “Now you’ve got me thinking you’re truly into some weird shit.”
Her hand found my loosened necktie, and she pulled it down. “Maybe I am, Dustin,” she whispered.
Next thing I knew, our lips were together and hers felt hot against mine, and I was pressing her up against the wall. I ran my hands greedily down the entire curve of her back until I was gripping her ass through the fabric of her bright red dress, tasting her.
She exhaled loudly as I kissed her neck, feeling the cold metal from her locket brush my warm cheek.
My stubble brushed her face and we stared at each other from a hand’s width apart.
Fuck me. Those eyes went so deep and I could tell she had opened up her soul to me. I wanted this night to keep going. I swear I’d dreamt about those eyes. Iknewthose eyes.
No, I didn’t. I was hallucinating.
“So, do you want to come in?” she asked, petting my tie.
I’ve had one-night stands before. I’m not morally opposed to them in any way. I wanted her more than I’d ever remembered wanting someone. Well, almost anyone.
But tonight, when I opened my mouth, these words came out: “I think I better go to bed. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
What? No! What are you saying, LeBlanc?
“Oh, uh, okay,” she said, slipping out from my grasp. “Well, goodnight then.” She inserted her keycard, went inside and closed the door.
And I was left wondering what force just took control of my mouth to say those words. I just cockblocked myself. Maybe it was for the best, though.
We had a genuine connection. And if there’s one thing that scared Dustin LeBlanc away from sex, it was just that: a true connection.
CHAPTER 5
CATARINA
Pheobe’s jawhung open as we walked to the golf outing the next morning.
“He just . . . left?”
I nodded. “Apparently I can’t even get laid by one of the biggest manwhores in the wide world of hockey. The worst part is that I felt this unbelievable connection with him. I was probably imagining it. I bet he does that with a girl every other night.”
“I just don’t understand why he would mess with you like that. Dancing all hot with you, kissing you, pressing you against the wall.” Phoebe zoned out, looking at the golf green as we came upon it with our rented clubs.
