Page 8 of Caught A Vibe

On the walk to the elevator, I can’t stop stealing glances at her. The red hair had made her stand out in a crowd, but the sweet and sexy blonde curls suit her better.

“It’s so no one recognizes me off the floor,” she says when she catches me staring.

My hand rises to tuck an errant curl behind her ear without conscious thought.Silk and gold. Precious.Impressions riot in my mind, but one thought makes it out of my mouth with pride.

“I recognized you.”

“Yes, you did.” She smiles at me and runs her hand over the curl I just touched, smoothing it down nervously. Where did the bold woman who talks about orgasms with strangers go? Maybe she’s realizing she left a bar with one of those strangers.

I acted impulsively, no surprises there, unable to take another moment of public teasing from her or my editor. She presented the opening and I took it. Hustling her away from my completely inappropriate boss seemed like the most expedient solution, but this situation is weird at best.

“Listen, I know we barely know each other, but I hope you don’t hold my boss against me. He’s a decent editor, but he can be a real jerk sometimes, especially when tequila’s involved.”

“Don’t apologize for T.A.”

“T.A.?”

“The Asshole. His actions aren’t yours. Trust me. I heard you defend your article on my work.”

I have a feeling I will forever think of Chad Brooks as T.A. now.

“You heard that, huh?”

“I did.”

Another thought occurs to me, and my feet slow to a stop as she pushes the call button. Did I misread this situation? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten social cues wrong. When Penny turns to look at me, I make the hardest offer of my life, pun fully intended.

“If you are using me as a safe exit from a difficult situation, I get it. We’re out of sight now if, you know, you want to go. Or we could have dinner? Hit the casino? There are a million ways to chase dopamine in Las Vegas…” I trail off, waiting for her reply.

She still seems skittish, but she steps closer and takes my hand. “Or we could go up to my room and chase it privately?”

“Yeah, or that,” I say, a little breathless.

The elevator doors open, and she hesitates. “I’m Penny Maxwell,” she says, expectantly.

“Dash Hall.” I squeeze the hand she’s holding.

“Dash. Now I know exactly who I’m leaving with and why.”

I follow her into the elevator. Is this really happening? I’ve wandered into aPenthousestory, and I don’t think I want to find my way out.

Except this woman makes revolutionary sex toys. Would a man stand up to man-made? Or woman-made? And who the hell am I to put it to the test? I mean, I’ve had some experience, but not a ton, and if she thinks I’m going to be some incredible lover…

This doom spiral is threatening to make it no contest.

Going on impulse, I slide my hand along the small of her back, and she arches and turns toward me with her eyes closed. With slight pressure, I draw her flush against me and raise my other hand to cup her cheek and jaw. She shudders and I feel every tremble. I wait for her to open her eyes, and they glitter with want as I lean in close.

“Good,” I whisper before I press my lips to hers.

As far as first kisses go, this one is pretty mild. Mouths closed, lips exploring lips, and yet it shakes me to my core. We briefly pull apart and stare at each other. She feels it too, that tremor of recognition, the same awareness from earlier when she’d touched my hands, magnified by a factor of ten. I’d bet money.

Certainty clicks into place inside me as she licks her tongue into the seam of my lips. Following her lead, I take the kiss deeper, opening my mouth against hers, letting my fingers flex into her hip. She opens for me just as the elevator doors do, and we almost miss her floor.

This is going to be fun.

Stumbling and laughing as the doors bump into my shoulder, I practically fall into the hallway behind her, and Penny fumbles for her key card. I deliberately slow my steps to enjoy the view, my eyes on her ass the whole way. The way her hips shift back and forth, lovingly cupped by faded denim, is fucking mesmerizing, and I feel drunker than the one beer I consumed should make me.

I want to know all the ways she moves her hips. Would happily spend a lifetime cataloging all the ways she can shake her ass. That flippant thought stutters my steps. It is too soon to be thinking in lifetimes. And yet the thought lingers.

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