God, I needed to get out of here.
I tapped Kwame on the shoulder to get his attention and gestured with a tilt of my head toward the club’s exit. He gave me a quick thumbs up and went back to grinding on a gorgeous woman whose arms were wrapped loosely around his neck.
At least someone was enjoying themselves.
I maneuvered toward the far edge of the room so I wouldn’t need to muscle through the mass of writhing bodies in the middle of the dance floor. As I passed a group of bachelorettes, a woman in a crown and sash shrieked my name, and I stopped for another round of selfies.
I was almost to the edge of the dance floor when a man caught my eye. My steps slowed, and someone bumped into me hard enough to knock me a half-step sideways. I righted myself and muttered a distracted “sorry,” my eyes going straight back to the hot guy across the room.
Something about the way he moved stirred something in me. It was the same type of awareness I used to get at parties whenSebastian would wander onto the dance floor and pretend he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to me as his body swayed in time with the music.
The club around me slipped out of focus, replaced by sticky floors, cheap beer, and a bass line that rattled my ribs. I could practically see Sebastian on some long-ago dance floor, moving like he moved against me late at night back in our room.
The pull towardthisman was nearly the same.
I stood transfixed as he rotated his hips in a slow roll. A second man—dark hair, built like me—leaned back against his chest. A woman with long dark hair had her arms draped over his shoulders, the three of them moving in sync. The beat changed, and they swung my way.
The hair on my arms stood up.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I moved, weaving between clusters of dancers, needing to confirm what some part of me already knew.
Then the man smiled, and my stomach dropped.
I knew that smile—the warmth of it, the way his eyes used to crinkle at the corners when he was truly happy.
Once, too many years ago to count, that smile had been mine.
CHAPTER 2
SEBASTIAN
I despisedeverything about Las Vegas—the oppressive heat, the manufactured glamour, the garish spectacle of wealth without taste, and the relentless assault of noise and neon.
But Wyatt Hastings had asked me to be here, and I’d never been particularly good at telling him no.
The fact that he’d spent the better part of the morning with his mouth wrapped around my cock was the only thing that made this weekend even remotely tolerable.
“There’s a condo that just came on the market—two bedrooms, two baths, completely renovated,” Wyatt’s fiancée, Celine Whitcomb, said, not bothering to look up from her phone. “And the best part is it’s directly across the hall from ours.”
“Celine. No.” I set my drink down hard, ice clinking against the glass.
“You’re buying it. Or rather, I am.” She finally looked up, waving her hand dismissively, as if my objection was nothing more than a gnat to be swatted away. “I just sent a message to my realtor.”
Wyatt hauled himself out of the pool, water streaming down his chest as he reached for his towel. When he caught me staring, his lips curved into a slow, predatory smile.
I looked away.
That smile did things to me I wasn’t proud of. Made me do things I wasn’t proud of.
“Babe,” he said, toweling himself off. “Don’t you think you should ask Sebastian what he wants first?”
“Oh, please.” She laughed. “This works perfectly for everyone. You get what you need, I get what I want, and Sebastian …” She trailed off with a knowing look. “Well, Sebastian getsyou, darling. We’re going to be one big, happy family.”
She rose from her lounger and pushed up onto her toes to kiss Wyatt’s cheek, leaving a lipstick print on his skin. Then she surprised me by turning and pressing her lips to my forehead. “I’m off for my massage. You two have fun while I’m gone.” She winked suggestively, the cabana’s curtain fluttering closed behind her.
Wyatt glanced after her retreating form, then moved to stand beside my chair, his fingers tracing the back of my neck in a brief, possessive touch.
“Did your fiancée just buy me a condo?”
