Home > Late Call (Call #1)(19)

Late Call (Call #1)(19)
Author: Emma Hart

I think I just heard the greatest love story of the twenty-first century. I also think I need to vomit.

“You look tense.” Aaron steps behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs digging in at the bottom of my neck.

I bend into his touch, unable to help the sigh that escapes me. “So would you if you’d had the night I have.”

“Same again.” He nods at the bartender and sits me on a stool. “Let me guess. You got the soap allergy story too?”

I turn. A small smile plays on my lips. “For real? He told you too?”

“Oh yes. He wants us to do his marketing.”

“No wonder his wife was so far up my ass she could see my brain,” I mutter.

Aaron laughs, a rich sound that curls my toes. “Dayton,” he admonishes. There’s nothing to it. He’s merely masking his amusement. “Behave.”

“Not often I get told that. In fact, it’s almost always the opposite.”

His thumbs stop moving, and my hair flutters away from my ear when he leans forward. “How much wine have you had?”

I prop my chin on my hand and reach for my glass with the other. “If there were such a thing as too much wine, I’d go with that.”

“I’d say, in this case, there might be.”

“Pfft. Wine is the greatest invention. Next to the vibrator, of course. They’re equally fabulous.”

“And you’d know this…?”

“Because I own several. All right with that, Mr. Stone?”

I hear his breath catch before I feel his fingers grip my waist.

“Say that again,” he demands, his voice low against my ear.

“Say what? About the vibrators?”

“After that.”

“Mr. Stone?”

“Yes. That.”

His growing erection presses against my back, and I smile sexily.

“Aha. Some things do change, don’t they?” I clasp my hands in my lap just in time. The feel of him pressing against me makes me want to reach my hand back and cup him, wrap my fingers over his hard length, but that would be awkward in the middle of a crowded Vegas casino.

Oh, f**k awkward.

My hand comes between us and I trail my fingers down his erection. His grip on me tightens, and I can feel his restraint. Feel him fighting the urge to jerk his hips and push his c**k right into my hand.

“It didn’t change until roughly five seconds ago,” he responds in a gruff voice. “The only places I get called Mr. Stone are in the office or a boardroom. How the hell do you make it sound so f**king sexy?”

I spin on the seat and curl my fingers around his silky red tie. I tug him down to me until our breaths mingle in the space between our mouths.

“I’m a master of manipulation, Mr. Stone. I could take the most menial object or phrase and turn into the object of your greatest desire if that’s what I wanted.”

He sinks his fingers into my hair. “And you wanted my name to sound sexy.”

“If I’d wanted to do that, you’d be dragging me out here while fighting the urge to pull my dress up and expose my very expensive, very pink thong that doesn’t cover a lot at all. If I’d wanted to do that, we’d be back in that suite right now with you begging me to allow you inside me.” My smile grows. “No, I didn’t want your name to sound sexy. I wanted it to sound enticing.”

“Color me enticed,” he murmurs. “More about your thong than the way you said my name.”

“It’s bright pink and has white spots.”

He pauses then pulls back, his eyes a swirling mass of amusement and heat. “You are the only woman I know who would talk about her underwear so publicly. Not to mention sex.”

I finish the last of my wine and stand, smoothing my dress over my thighs. “Why wouldn’t I? Underwear isn’t anything to be ashamed of, and sex most definitely isn’t. I’m not exactly the type to sit in the corner and blush at the mention of the word ‘pussy’ or ‘cock.’”

The elevator doors close and cold glass hits me as I’m spun into the wall.

“There aren’t many women who can say those words and not make them sound crude.”

“They’re crude words. They’re not supposed to sound sexy. At least alone. Accompanied by someone who can talk as well as he can f**k? They’re the sexiest words in the English language.”

His heavy exhale covers my mouth. “What are you doing to me, Dayton?”

I move my hips forward and smirk. “Do you need me to answer that?”

He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs lightly, sending a lightning spark right down to my clit. I don’t need or want him to answer it.

I don’t want words. I want skin-on-skin contact. Mouths against mouths. Tongues tracing necks and trailing across stomachs. Hands grasping and toes curling and lips parting and breath catching.

I want every single f**king thing I know I’ll regret tomorrow.

The air in our suite is heavy as we enter it. I can feel Aaron’s eyes tracing my body as I drop my purse on the sofa and move to the windows. Vegas shines up at me the very same way his want shines over my body. It illuminates the room the same way he illuminates me.

Aaron and Las Vegas have a lot in common. Vegas is Sin City for a reason, and Aaron is the walking embodiment of that. They’re both tempting yet obvious, filled with sexual domination that’s attracting and compelling. They make you need them, even if you know they’re the very worst thing for you.

Temptation and sin have no bounds.

Vegas has no bounds.

Neither does Aaron.

And the two combined makes me want to destroy my own.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers in a low tone from just behind me. “You should go to bed.”

“I’m not seventeen anymore. I can handle my wine, thank you.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about. It’s about having you standing in front of me after acting like the woman I know.”

I turn and press my back against the glass. “You’re too caught up in the past.”

He runs his thumb down my jaw to my bottom lip. “In the past? No. It’s not the past I’m caught up in.”

My eyes fall to our shoes. “It’s barely been a week. You can’t possibly be caught up in anything else other than the need to be inside me.”

“You have no idea.” He steps closer, pressing his body against mine. Hot. Hard. “Right after I spoke to you at the Tower, you nearly tripped but caught yourself at the last moment. I knocked your coffee all over you, and I’ve never seen anyone more shocked in their life. Like you expected no one to be there although I’d spoken to you. Your eyes met mine.” He tilts my face up, and I open my eyes to his. “And I knew. I knew then, seven years ago, that no one would compare to the girl standing right in front of me. The second our eyes collided, I knew you were something so much more than I’d ever imagined, and I had to have you. Even if it was just for a moment, I had to make you mine.

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