Page 35 of Vegas Baby

“Oh my god, that was the best dinner of my life,” I moan as we exit the restaurant. I don’t mention that it’s also been the best date of my life. So much more relaxed than I’d anticipated, we simply enjoyed the food together and caught each other up on our lives. It was perfect.

Sebastian grins. “Honestly? Mine too. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He squeezes the arm I’ve got looped through his. “And I hope you’re not too full because we’re walking to our next destination.”

“Lead the way,” I tease, my excitement building at how he plans to top that dinner.

He takes us back to the car where he removes his suit jacket and tie, unbuttons his top two buttons, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to expose his forearms. Watching him do so is incredibly sexy. He also tucks my clutch into the trunk, and I hold my phone and a credit card in a small, invisible zippered pocket in my dress.

We walk down the Strip for a bit, enjoying the flashing neon lights on the now fully dark, and fully packed, Las Vegas Boulevard. It’s one of the few times I’ve joined in the nightlife on the Strip, and none of the other times were fun for me. But this? Walking with Sebastian and pointing out all the sights and oddities? Even this is far more fun than I’d imagined having tonight.

So, when we stop at a high-end-looking dance club called Magenta, I’d almost forgotten that was our plan. And the idea of dancing with Sebastian sends a flurry of nervous, excited energy pouring through me.

He looks down at me as he holds the door open, his deep brown eyes glittering in the dark. I look up at him from under my eyelashes and smile.

When we get inside the club, we’re shown to a booth and a waitress takes our drink orders. Sebastian slings an arm over the back of the booth, leaning toward me so I’ll hear him over the thumping music of the dancefloor on the other side of the large space.

“What do you think?” he asks, sweeping a hand around widely.

I take in the lush fabrics of the booths, the clean crystal bar, and the not too overpacked dancefloor with well-dressed revelers and I lean toward him. “It’s fantastic. I can’t wait to dance,” I admit.

The waitress returns with our drinks. Even the glassware looks expensive, and the garnishes are fancy swirls and shapes placed delicately in top-shelf-alcohol-based drinks. One sip confirms the luxury feel of the whole place. The drink goes down perhaps too easily, and we people watch together until we’ve finished our first round, then our second.

Finally, Sebastian slides out of the booth and offers a hand. “Ready to dance?” he asks with a tilt of an eyebrow. As I take his hand and stand, I feel a little lightheaded. His brows scrunch together. “Are you okay?”

I grin. “I’m fantastic,” I breathe, tugging him toward the dancefloor.

He laughs and follows, and I waste no time burying myself in the crowd and twisting my hips to the music. I feel Sebastian slide up behind me, keeping his hands politely at my waist as he moves with me.

I groove and twist and let the music, the alcohol, and the utter freedom of being here flow through me. I toss my head back and imagine I’m performing, the hand motions and gyrations I’d normally perform mid-air coming as easily as breathing.

I feel Sebastian turn me and I open my eyes to meet his, dark and hard and filled with desire. He pulls me against him until our chests are flush, a first given the height of my heels, and I don’t mind that it puts his mouth just inches above mine. Our hot breaths mingle as he leads my hips with his, as the dance turns more primal. More heated.

It’s not long before we’re sweating in an increasingly packed crowd, but it doesn’t shake his grip. Still, he doesn’t touch me in any way that matches the heat in his gaze. And I realize I want him to.

I press away, overwhelmed by desire, not willing to give in to it for what it may mean to him. I snake my way through the crowd back to our table. I don’t notice that Sebastian followed until he slides in beside me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

I nod meekly. “Just thirsty,” I reply dismissively.

Sebastian gets the attention of a waitress and soon two tall glasses of water with lemon are placed before us. I sip mine slowly, relishing the cool liquid sliding down my throat, easing the knot that I hadn’t realized had formed there.

“What happened out there?” Sebastian asks, not meeting my gaze.

I open my mouth to deny that it was anything but thirst, yet something in his tone makes me realize he knows that would be a lie.

“I’m afraid of you, Sebastian,” I admit shakily.

His head snaps up, his gaze meeting mine.

“You’re afraid of me?” he asks incredulously. And then he laughs. Like, bent over, holding his stomach laughs.

I let out a nervous giggle and he sits back up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I know, it’s silly,” I admit.

He shakes his head and huffs out one last laugh. “No, mi cielo,” he murmurs, looking intently into my eyes. The use of those words transports me back to before. To being with him that way and my core tightens. “It’s funny because I’m the one who’s afraid of you.”

Guilt twists in my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Sebastian, you don’t even know. If I could take it back, I would. I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve told you everything. You cared about me, took care of me, in ways no one ever did, and I repaid you by running away, leaving you thinking you did something wrong. And still, now that you’ve given me another chance, I’m still taking advantage of you, and I feel like a complete asshole.” Tears well in my eyes.

He scoots toward me, cupping my cheek in his palm. “It hurt. But I understand why you did. I just … forgot how broken you were because I was too busy thinking about how broken I was when you left.”

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