Lounging in a tall silver wingback nearby is my unexpected rescuer. I vaguely remember him wearing a suit jacket before, but he’s not wearing it now. His navy-blue dress shirt is unbuttoned to the waist. There’s a sliver of taut, tanned flesh beneath it.
And I’m wearing nothing but a soft toweling bathrobe and panties. My breath hitches, and I clutch the top of the robe closed.
“Relax,” he says calmly. “You’re safe.”
“Where am I?” I look around. The huge suite is a blend of muted blues and silvers. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glittering colored lights of the Las Vegas skyline.
“My penthouse,” he answers. “I brought you back here after…” He trails off. He doesn’t need to continue. I know what he means. After I collapsed. After I was attacked. After my life came to a halt. Though he probably doesn’t know that part.
He saved me.
But what’s happened since then? I’m stretched out on a blue velvet sofa. The robe is hiked up my bare thighs. I tug it down.
“Where are my clothes?” I ask.
“Housekeeping will return them once they’re cleaned,” he says. I frown. “You puked on them,” he adds. “On me too.”
Oh my God.I rub the spot between my eyebrows.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble. My mouth is dry. He glances to the side, and I follow his eyes. There’s a glass of water and a couple of tablets on a tray nearby.
“Paracetamol,” he says. “Figured you’d need it.” I reach for the glass and cautiously put the tablets into my mouth. I guess I can trust him. He’s already done more than most would under the circumstances. I swallow the tablets, then drink thirstily. Even though I suspect I’ve rid myself of most of the alcohol, my head’s still spinning wildly.
“Better?” he asks. I nod cautiously. He stands and takes the glass from me. It’s hard not to gulp as I stare up at him. His features are too hard to be beautiful. But he’s breathtaking. And those eyes. I’m hypnotized.
“Come,” he says, reaching for my hand. I’m sure I’m still drunk or in shock…or maybe both. Because I don’t even think of resisting as I stand. I can’t say why – perhaps it’s some sort of warped gratitude for saving me, but it feels natural to follow him.
He leads me to into a sprawling bathroom. It’s dominated by a huge tub and an open shower area. The kind of thing I think they call a wet room. Before I know it, I’m standing in the center of it. He adjusts the faucets, and suddenly there’s a rainfall right behind me.
“What are you doing?” I ask sharply. It’s a pretty stupid question, but I can’t just let him push me around.
“You need a shower,” he says. “I don’t fuck girls who smell of liquor.”
“Wait… What?” I choke out.
“Shhh…” he says, running his fingers beneath the lapels of my robe, and sliding it over my shoulders. The soft fabric pools around my feet. Now I’m not sure if I’m more horrified that my breasts are exposed, or that I’m wearing a pair of ugly beige panties. I cross my arms over my chest, though it seems like a wasted gesture – he must have been the one to undress me in the first place.
“Step back,” he says, ignoring my act of modesty and pushing me under the water. It streams down my hair, turning the golden strands darker. My eyes widen as he shrugs out of his shirt. His shoulders are broad, skin golden like the flash of torso I saw earlier.
“You can’t…” I begin, but the words stop forming as he unbuckles his belt. This is the point where I should bolt. But I can’t. God knows why, but I want to be here.
Are you crazy, Nikki?
He drops his pants down muscled thighs, steps out of them, and kicks them aside. Sweet Jesus, he’s not wearing underwear. I keep my eyes up. He stretches a muscled arm past me and reaches for something. There’s a whiff of fragrance – shampoo, I guess – before he runs his hands over my head, fingers threading into my hair.
He’s washing my hair. Oh, God, this has got to be the weirdest night of my life.
His motions are hardly those of a good Samaritan, though. When I risk a glance down, I can see the hard length of his cock pressing up against his belly. I’ve never been impressed with male genitals, but his penis is a thing of beauty.
As the water runs clear, it streams from my hair onto my chest and fingers. His eyes meet mine and narrow slightly as he pries my hands away from my breasts.
My mouth opens and closes, but I can’t seem to tell him to stop. When he starts lathering my naked flesh, I don’t want him to stop, anyway. I’m not one for casual sex, but I can’t think of a reason not to do this right now.
He thumbs soapy circles around my nipples, which harden in an instant. It’s not my fault. I can’t remember when last a man touched me. Certainly never one who looked like this. Just the sight of him is enough to make me squeeze my thighs together. And what he’s doing to my nipples now…
Dear God!I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut.
They shoot open wide when those soapy fingers slide down my belly and beneath the waistband of my hideous panties.
