Page 5 of What Happens in Vegas..
If she keeps calling me sir I’m going to have a very obvious erection. “Please, call me Knox.”
Chapter Three
Carissa
After confirmingthat none of them want an appetizer right now, I walk away from the blackjack table a little shaky. Holy hell, that man is fine. I swear his chocolate eyes stared right into my soul. I also get the feeling I’ve seen him around or something. His face struck a recognition chord with me, but I don’t recognize his name. I think I would remember a unique name like his, Knox.
Going to the other tables, most of them turn me away, not needing anything. I frown. That just means fewer tips for me, I pat my black apron, the chip is still there. I can’t believe I made a hundred-dollar tip for my first one of the night. I need to take it to get cashed so they can add it to my next paycheck. We’re not allowed to carry them around. There’s a chance we could slip them to someone we know and it’s a whole thing.
Heading over to the cage, I push the chip over, it’s painful because I want to hold onto it, but the last thing I want to do is get in trouble and lose this job. Despite it being hard, I still love it here. Whatever I can do to feel closer to my dad.
I pass over my ID badge to the old woman who looks like she wants to be anywhere else than dealing out chips or paying out winnings. Most of it is digital now. So no one walks out of here with cash, but she still looks like she hates her life.
“One hundred dollars will be added to your next check.”
I nod. “Thank you, Martha.”
I get a grunt in response before she goes back to whatever she was looking at on the computer in front of her. Man, her job must be boring on slow nights like tonight.
There’s not a lot of people here at the start of the week. Just old people. Well, except the hottie at the blackjack table. I can tell he’s older than me, but he can’t be that much older. Thirty-something. I don’t think I would mind an older guy. They have more experience in the bedroom, right?
My thoughts go back to what Donna Jean told me in the locker room. Could he be someone I let take me back to his room? I don’t have a change of clothes here. I would never be allowed to get in the elevators if I have my serving uniform on. It’s forbidden, and the guards who make sure everyone who goes through there know that employees unless they’re room service or housekeeping aren’t allowed up there. And those employees have a different set of elevators they use to not inconvenience any of the patrons going up.
I hope this isn’t the only night he’s here. I’ll for sure bring something else to wear if that means I can have a taste of whatever he wants to give me. I head back to the tables and walk around, checking on everyone, even though my gaze never leaves the man at the blackjack table.
He makes my insides tumble and my core warm with a need I only get when I’ve been drinking tequila. He makes me horny, and I haven’t met any guys yet who can do that. At least none of the guys my age who’ve tried to date me. I’m not the only one noticing him either.
It feels like all women in the room are glancing over at him. His baritone voice draws them away from their slots or conversations with the people they’re with. Hell, even Daniel, who I know is gay, looks like he wants nothing more than to lean across the table and let the man speak to him all night.
My cheeks flare with heat as his brown eyes meet mine and I shiver and smile at him. What is it about him? He’s commanding everyone’s attention without trying. Is he a movie star or something, and I’m just that out of touch with what’s popular right now? I feel like I glance at the front of magazine covers often enough I would remember seeing his face on one.
He’s hot enough to be an A-lister. Maybe that’s why I feel like I know him from somewhere. He’s famous. I want to pull out my phone and look him up, but I can’t do that while on the floor. I’ll get in so much trouble with my boss. The people in surveillance would say something to him for sure. They write Donna up for it all the time. She may not have been fired, but I don’t even want to risk it.
Soon, it’s time for me to go to their table, again. His whiskey glass is empty, so I move to pick it up. “Would you like another, si... Knox?” My heart hammers. He told me to call him by his first name over sir, but I can’t help but love the heat that enters his eyes when I almost slip. I think he likes me calling him sir, maybe he likes it, too much. It could be a kink for him.
He nods. “I would like that, thank you.”
I smile at him. His brown hair is a rich brown color that is thick and styled but not long enough to look disheveled. He looks like he’s the kind of guy to use a bunch of gel to tame it while he’s working but here, he’s just letting it be. It looks so silky soft. If it wasn’t super inappropriate to do while working, I would run my fingers through it.
Going to the bar, I put in a request for a fresh whiskey with light ice. My backside burns and I glance over my shoulder to find him staring at my ass. I can’t help it, as I shift my weight more onto the bar and stick my ass out more. I sway back and forth, pretending I don’t notice his eyes on me.
The bartender brings me another whiskey on the rocks and I put it on a tray to carry it over to him. I set it down. He casually slips another hundred-dollar chip into my hand. My body thrums with excitement. It would normally take me all shift to make this kind of money.
“You keep helping me win, Lucky. Thanks.”
I arch a brow at him calling me lucky, I like it. “I’m lucky, huh? Should I blow on your chips to make them even luckier?”
Where the hell did this confidence come from? I’m usually a fumbling clutz while trying to flirt with a guy, that’s why I don’t do it often.
He looks up at me from his seat. I can tell he’s a tall ass man, he comes to nearly my chin while sitting down. Granted, I’m rather short. I blame my upbringing. My family, if I can call them that, was constantly shipping me around from house to house until I said no more at fifteen and ran away. I feel like never having anything stable stunted my growth.
“Lucky, if you want to blow on my chips, you’re more than welcome to.”
My cheeks burn, if that wasn’t an innuendo, I don’t know what is.
I lean over close to him and blow on the chip pile. He hasn’t been paying attention to the game, but he just won again. My face gets hotter at the fact he won a third time while I was near him. If I’m not careful, the casino is going to accuse me of helping him cheat or something.
As I stand back up his gaze never leaves mine. The heat I see in his eyes travels straight to my core, my panties have to be so wet right now. If I wasn’t on shift, I would go into the restroom right now and take care of myself. How am I supposed to be able to work when all I want to do is kiss this man and taste the whiskey on his tongue? Feel the scrape of his scruff under my fingertips or better yet the bulge in his pants that I undoubtedly bet he has. A man with his large hands can’t be small.
