“Why?” she says suddenly, parting her lips, nostrils flaring.
“Why what?” I murmur, unable to think, breathe… or pull away.
She arches an eyebrow. “No windows, no clocks. You never completed your thought.”
“Oh,” I say, pulling back just enough to get my head on straight. Though I can still smell her—something sweet like nectar, warm and velvety like rose and almond oil. “It’s so casino-goers lose track of time… don’t realize how long they’ve been inside gambling away all their money.”
“Kind of how you make me feel?” she asks with a breathy laugh.
My face heats, something tugging behind my ribs. “How do you mean?” It comes out grumpy, as if I’m trying to mask the warmth.
“Time kind of stops when you’re around. First noticed it at the auction tonight.”
“Is that why you bid on me?” I ask, throat tightening.
“Honestly? I haven’t figured that out yet… beyond needing to feel safe. And needing to have someone to enjoy Vegas with.”
“That’s enough,” I say with a nod.
“Now, show me how that whole slot machine thing works again?” she says, as the cocktail server returns, setting our drinks down carefully. I tip her begrudgingly.
“Either way, we need to slow down after this,” I say to my curvy compatriot.
“After this one,” she says with a wink.
Famous last words…
The city goes by in a blur, and I swear we walk most of it in one night. At some point, we slip out into the dark, enjoying a slight coolness to the air.
“That feels good,” I say, still tugging at the collar of my shirt.
“Oh, look!” she exclaims, running forward. “Let’s check out the fountains and lights.”
We watch the full show, choreographed to music, then check out a pirate ship battle staged in another massive lake. At the Sphere, we’re mesmerized by the images and music dancingacross the rounded surface, and, then, we tour the Venetian, Paris, and New York-New York.
Mini versions of the world’s greatest hits, just small enough to remind us how kitschy they are.
At some point, it all starts blurring together. The booze, the music, the lights, the frenetic energy of the place. Until I pull her into a little dive bar off the main strip where neon signs and clanging slots give way to soft crooning country and low lights.
She fits too good in my arms when I pull her close in the back corner. Like she was made for me. And though we’ve sobered up and are starting to talk and think sane again, she doesn’t back away.
Her lips part, pupils blown wide when she looks up at me. Like I’m not some stranger she bid on at a small-town animal rescue auction. Like I mean something to her, that this night does, too.
“What are you thinking?” she asks softly, cheek resting against my chest, breath hitting my neck and doing crazy things to my heart.
“Not thinking. Reminding myself to be careful.”
“Careful of what?” Her voice is a breathy whisper I have to lean in to hear.
“Careful of reading too much into this. Thinking this is more than—” I swallow hard, searching for the right words. “Something you paid for.”
Her eyes cast to the side, face darkening.
My hands shift to her waist, pulling her closer to me. So damn close the thin sliver of air between us feels heated.
“Do you really want to know why I bid on you?” she asks.
“Not sure,” I admit. “If it ruins this, then no.”
