“As tempting as that is,” I croon, flattening my palms over his pecs and leaning in close to run the tip of my nose over the bend of his neck, hovering in place when I reach his ear. “My very resourceful boyfriend managed to snag a room and tickets to the most coveted party in the city.”
“Is that so? He sounds like a pretty cool guy.”
“The coolest. How did you manage that so last minute, by the way?”
He splays his fingers over my bare back, nipping at my jaw. “That new job I just landed?” His lips skate along mine, sending sparks of desire firing off every nerve ending in my body. “Building the pool house?”
“Yeah,” I rasp, already lust drunk.
“It’s for the owner’s son.”
“Nice.” I slip a hand between us, palming the steel rod digging into my hip. “You are so fucking hot; I can’t stand it,” I growl giving his cock a firm squeeze while pressing my thighs tightly together.
His answering laugh oozes sexual frustration. “And yet…you still want to go to this party?”
“Foreplay,” I whisper, grazing my tongue over the shell of his ear. “We’re always so rushed. For the first time ever, we have all night.” I slip my hands inside his jacket and around to his back, grabbing two fists full of his firm ass. “I’m going to enjoy every second of torturing you, because I know what awaits at the night’s end will be well worth it.” Clenching my fingers, I glide my tongue along the seam of his lips. “I can’t wait to watch you lose control.”
I feel his dick twitch against my abdomen before he scrubs a hand over his face with a groan. “Let’s go and get this over with.” His voice is uncharacteristically gritty, as if his vocal cords have been brushed with sandpaper. Wyatt laces his fingers between mine and brings my hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Before I settle for a quick fuck in the prep room.”
I pinch my puckered lips, twisting them to one side. “Now, I might be convinced to be a little late in that case.”
The Winchester Regency is the place to be. Anyone who knows anything about New Year’s Eve in New Orleans knows this, while few actually get the chance to experience it. The place is known to book up a year or more in advance. So, I must admit, I feel like hot shit checking into a balcony suite on tonight of all nights.
“Wanna give the bed a test run?” Wyatt asks when we pop into our room to rid ourselves of our bags. His brows do a sexy little bounce as he fists his hands out in front of him and begins thrusting his hips.
The man is relentless. And goofy. And so damn gorgeous it drives me to distraction.
“And ruin my makeup and hair?” I scoff. “Not a chance!”
With a grunt, he hangs his head, his handsome face shrouded in a look of defeat. “I don’t like this game.”
“I promise you’ll love the way it ends.”
“Well, that’s a foregone conclusion.” He walks up behind me where I’m touching up my makeup, pressing his chest to my back and resting his chin on my shoulder. His warm exhale into my neck has my limbs shaking and my pulse quickening. “I love every second I’m lucky enough to spend in your company.”
The lipstick tube fumbles to the counter with a clang. I’m not quite sure whether the action is voluntary or a result of my weak-kneed response to this man. Reaching back, I twist my hand to scruff his hair and rest my lips on his forehead, letting them linger for a beat. “Me too.”
His hand skates up my torso, over my breasts, and along my neck until his palm is stroking my jaw and his fingers are buried in my nape. He gives a gentle tug, rotating my face until his lips reach mine. “You can fix it again before we go downstairs to eat,” he rasps before covering my mouth with his.
After one hell of a hot and heavy makeout session, we arrive at our reservation only a few minutes late. I’m calling it a win. I’ve never felt as fancy or grown as I do right now. To be sitting here, dressed to the nines in the VIP section of such a swanky place, is surreal. But then again, my entire life has felt like a dream since the moment Wyatt Landry made his reappearance in it.
The tables are covered in white cloths with lit candles and red roses at the center. There are more utensils laid out than I know what to do with. The fact that my date doesn’t seem to have a clue what they’re for, either, eases the fit of nerves they bring on.
Dinner is a delectable feast of beef with au jus, truffle whipped potatoes, and the most delicious buttery steamed asparagus I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. For dessert we share a bananas foster cheesecake and bread pudding—each sampling the other’s, because is there any other way to do it when you’re young and in love?
Once we’ve filled our bellies, we take off on a stroll around the grounds to see what kind of trouble we can get into.
For our first adventure of the night, we pop into one of the ballrooms to see a burlesque show. Neither of us has ever been to one before, and it’s supposed to be one of the highlights of the venue.
We grab drinks from one of many mobile bartenders posted up around the hotel on the way to our seats. All the while, I do some heavy people watching. The guests are such a diverse bunch, dressed in everything from black tie to feathers and boas.
And can I just say… So. Many. Titties.
In the crowd. On the stage. Tits every which way you turn.
My jaw hangs, and the nails of my once-lax hand press into my date’s knee when one of the performers lights her freaking tatas on fire! Okay, so if you want to get technical, it’s actually the tassels that are ablaze. But they’re attached to her nipples, so that’s practically the same thing.
“Look at her go!” Wyatt’s eyes about pop out of his head when she starts helicoptering those flaming gazoongas. Round and round and round they go.
The crowd is going nuts. My heart leaps into my throat. She’s one ill-timed flop away from catching that poufy platinum blonde bouffant of hers on fire.
“Can yours do that?” he asks, trailing a finger over my cleavage.
“Seriously? I barely have a C cup. Those are like very stretched out Gs.”
He snorts, choking on his beer. “I can do that…”
I give him a flirty little side eye before fluffing his ego like any good girlfriend would. I do take my new role seriously, after all. “If you were to try that you’d have knocked out everyone sitting in the front row.”
“That right there,” he says, shaking a finger at me before squishing my cheeks together and kissing my subsequent fish lips, “is why I’m gonna marry your ass someday.”
His suggestion has my smile brimming from ear to ear. His near-constant hints at forever no longer send me itching to flee. In fact, I’m beginning to feel downright hopeful. The emotion is so foreign to me. I’m teetering on the edge of fear and forever, praying the latter wins out in the end.
After the show, we decide to skip the casino entirely and find ourselves a spot to dance the night away. There are multiple stages and entertainers to choose from, and people literally everywhere we turn. Wyatt and I end up squeezing our way through until we’re right in front of the stage of some really badass 80s cover band. The performers are dressed in vibrant spandex unitards with huge perms and crazy costume makeup.