Page 31 of Saving Stella

“Wow, this is a lot.” Her eyes grew wide at the table laden with food. “I don’t think I can finish this all.”

“Don’t worry, anything you don’t finish, I will. I’ll probably order more.” The food looked and smelled amazing. Chef Dominic was indeed a master. I’ll have to eat here more often.

They shared the meal, making small talk as they ate and praised the meal. Cliff’s attention, however, was divided between the delicious food and Stella. He couldn’t help but stare as she savored every morsel, moaning and licking her lips in a sensual way as she ate. He imagined that mouth and tongue licking other … things.

Imagined her under him, making similar noises. He’d grip her hips until she bruised, tell her to take what he had to give. Make her beg for more.

Harder.

Faster.

“More wine, sir?”

The server’s voice cut into his fantasy.

Thank fuck.

“Yes, please.”

He avoided looking at her mouth for the rest of the meal.

“I guess I underestimated my appetite,” she said as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life. I hope you don’t mind.”

They had demolished the entire meal, leaving only bones on the plates. “Not at all.” He liked that she had a healthy appetite. “French food is pretty rich though; I couldn’t eat this all the time. Have you had French food before?”

“Once,” she said. “And, don’t laugh—it was at the Paris Casino on The Strip.”

The last two words made his entire body tense—it happened every time anything reminded him of Vegas. Grabbing his wine glass, he took a sip of the dark red Bordeaux. “Oh. Was it a girls’ trip or something?”

“No, it was my twenty-first birthday, and my parents wanted to take me somewhere special, but it wasn’t like we could afford to go out of the country. So, they did the next best thing—a tour around the world in our very own backyard.”

“Your … backyard.” A throbbing began behind his temple.

“Yup.” She nodded. “We went to Venice, then Egypt too. But just so you know, us Nevada natives don’t frequent The Strip or the casinos.”

She lived in Las Vegas.

Cliff took another sip—no, a swig this time—of his wine, draining the last drop.

Devon didn’t tell him Stella lived in Las Vegas.

Why would he?

Cliff’s job had been to watch her in New York. It didn’t matter where she came from or where she lived.

But on some level, it did matter to him, and he didn’t know why the thought of her being there made a pit form in his stomach.

“So, you lived in Nevada all your life?” The question popped out of his mouth without a thought.

“As far as I can remember, since I was adopted and all. My parents live an hour away in a small town, but I live in the suburbs of Vegas, near where I work. But Las Vegas is more than just The Strip, you know.”

“Really.” He didn’t know what else to say—there really was nothing else to say.

“Yeah, there’s state parks and ….”

He tried to concentrate on what she was saying about Las Vegas, but he just couldn’t. The memories of the last time he was there—and the reason why he would never ever go back—were just too strong.

“And … oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Here I am being a Chatty Cathy. Sorry.”

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