Wherever It Leads(20)

I switch on the tablet and find the page. “She drew his cock into her mouth, stroking his shaft as she licked a pool of semen from the tip.” I glance over my shoulder and his eyes are wide. I wink. “A growl escaped his throat as she stroked his velvety shaft, running her tongue—”

“Enough.” He snatches the Kindle from my grasp and places it on his briefcase. “Fucking hell, Brynne. Do you want f*cked right here?”

“Maybe?”

He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling in tempo with mine. A low growl sounds from his throat as his hands drag roughly down his face. He’s flustered, his knuckles turning white as he grips the arm rests.

I did this to him. I worked this man into a frenzy.

The longer it takes him to get himself together, the more heady the feeling becomes. It’s a powerful thing, knowing a man like him wants you. I want to keep reading, to force him to react, but I can’t because he’s taken the Kindle from me. Instead, I watch him turn to face me, his features wearing a determined look.

“We aren’t doing that here.” It’s a simple statement, one I’m not sure he’s one-hundred percent behind.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

He watches me out of the corner of his eye and chuckles, a low, cautionary ripple. “You have no idea. But I don’t want to do that in front of an audience, and believe it or not, there are a handful of people on board at the moment.”

I didn’t think of that. Or maybe I did and didn’t care. But after his admonishment, I realize how silly it would’ve been. I rest back in my seat and try to get a grip.

“And, for the record, that’s not the only reason I asked you to come.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. Maybe we should talk about the next few days?” he asks.

“Yes,” I exhale. “That would be great, actually. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, or well, anything. It’s nerve-wracking.”

“I don’t want you feeling that way.” His eyes search mine. “I don’t want you to be nervous, Brynne. I want you to enjoy this trip and relax and have fun. So if anything bothers you or you feel awkward, please tell me. Promise you’ll tell me?”

I nod.

“All right. I have a lot of work to pack in to the next few days. I’ll be gone a lot and I might ask you to accompany me to a dinner or two. But I’ll give you notice if that’s the case. These trips just fluctuate and are hard to predict. When I’m gone, feel free to enjoy yourself. Whatever you need, any expenses you encounter, just charge them to our room and I’ll handle it.”

“I—”

“That wasn’t a question,” he grins. “It’s cut and dry. When I’m not working, I want you to be with me. If there’s a show you want to see or somewhere you want to eat, we can do that. But I do want you available to me completely at those times. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper. It shouldn’t seem as hot as it does to be at someone’s beck and call, but I can’t deny the heat singeing my veins. The look he’s flashing me is doing everything but actually penetrating me, and I need the release. Desperately.

He nods and stands. Having him out of reach frees up a roomful of oxygen and I fill my lungs with the precious air. I need to get us on a different topic, something with less of a direct line to my libido.

“What are you doing for work in Vegas?” I ask.

He eyes me warily. “A few different things.”

“Such as?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m spending a few days with you alone. What if your job is a mafia hitman?”

He grins. “Then you’re in more danger than you thought.”

I gulp. “I’m going to need you to deny that you aren’t one. Now. Thank you.”

His laughter fills the cabin, the cashmere back in full force. “I’m not a hitman. I’d venture to say you’re safer with me than with anyone you know.”

“That makes me feel better.”

“Glad to hear it.” His cheeks are split in an easy, wide grin. There’s a softness to him that I haven’t seen before and it sets me at ease in an instant. I just hope that safety pertains also to my heart.





I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Twirling slowly in the center of the living room of our suite, I take in as much of the grandeur as I can. Even though we’ve been in the hotel for almost an hour already, I can’t get enough of this place. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen what I think are some pretty magnificent places with Presley. The suite is classic and beautiful, with crystal chandeliers looming everywhere, marble on the counters and floors, and attention to detail on everything from the throw pillows to the vases filled with fresh flowers.

The echo from the door closing in the foyer rings through the room. I hear Fenton’s shoes squeak against the tile and nearly lose my breath when he rounds the corner. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, his hair damp from the shower. Seeing him never fails to make me weak, but in a suit—I’m a puddle. He’s so divine, so perfect, I can’t believe my eyes. And when he flashes me the grin like he does just now, I nearly drop to my knees.