Sweet Sinful Nights(30)
As she headed into the house, she glanced at the time, grateful that the clock was ticking closer to her date. She wanted to speed up the next several hours, run through them in fast forward, because she needed something that felt good. Something that was the complete opposite of her f*cked up family story.
*
After she tied the slim strap of her charcoal gray top at her neck, she smoothed her hand across her black skirt, which hit just above her knees. The material was soft to the touch. As Shannon ran her palm across it, she closed her eyes, and imagined the feel of Brent’s hand. He had strong, solid, masculine hands that knew her. That had mapped every inch of her body. That had traveled across the terrain of her skin. Images and sensations whipped through her, and an unexpected moan escaped her lips. The sound coming from her own throat snapped her eyes open.
Was she truly so easy with him that the sliver of a memory ignited her? But the answer seemed self-evident in the way the goosebumps rose on her flesh, and heat bloomed between her legs. And, really, that was all she wanted from him anyway. That was why she’d agreed to dinner that night.
Wasn’t it?
Because he was her magic pill, her sip of champagne, her bite of smooth, dark chocolate. He was an endorphin, the most powerful, potent one she’d ever had. That was why she’d agreed to see him. For a quick hit of a feel-good drug.
She walked into her closet, perused the racks of shoes, then selected a pair of plum-colored pumps with four-inch heels, which would still leave her half a foot shorter than her date tonight. Next, she rooted around in her jewelry box and found a favorite necklace of hers. She fastened the slim silver chain, letting the ruby red pendant fall to her breasts. She laughed out loud—poor Brent. He wouldn’t know where to look first.
Boobs or legs.
Good. She didn’t mind the possibility of torturing him. Not only because she enjoyed it from a purely physical standpoint, but also because it gave her the upper hand. She wasn’t into mind games, or control, but she thought of what her friend Ally often said about relationships when she’d recap her dates. “The French have a saying: ‘In every relationship there is always one who kisses and one who offers the cheek.’ Be the one who offers the cheek.”
Shannon ran her hands through her brown hair one last time, fluffing it out before she turned around and left the bedroom. She shut the door, too, as if that would somehow remind her of the promise she’d made to keep parts of her life from Brent. Her home was her private zone, full of letters, full of pictures, full of mementos. It was safer for her to meet him elsewhere.
Her phone buzzed on her kitchen counter. She grabbed it from its spot next to her sunflower picture frame. There was a text from her driver saying he was one minute away. Driving and parking in Vegas on the Strip was a bitch on a Saturday night, so she’d opted for Uber. She shut and locked the front door, then nearly smacked into Ally, who lived two flights up. The gorgeous brunette wore workout pants, a sports bra, and a form-fitting tank. She was laughing with her head bent over her phone as she walked up the steps to her condo.
“What’s so funny?”
Ally looked up, the broad smile still on her face. She pushed her big round sunglasses high up on her head. “This video is killing me. You have to see it. I know you’ll never look on your own, Miss Anti-Internet, so let’s start it over for you.” Evidently, Shannon needed to spend more time online hunting out videos. That was where all the action was, but she’d never put much stock in hanging out in the web world.
“Show me,” she said, because Ally had a good sense of humor, and Shannon was curious.
Ally scrolled through her news feed, then tapped a video. “Check it out. Here’s this chick eating outside at this barbecue restaurant, and her boyfriend starts...” Ally paused, lowered her voice, and whispered the rest of it.
Shannon’s jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. “Let me see,” she said eagerly, and then the two of them proceeded to crack up on the steps as they watched the clip of a woman riding her boyfriend’s hand on a picnic table bench, clearly thinking they were being sly, when instead they were so obvious they’d been captured surreptitiously by someone’s cell phone camera. Shannon shook her head in amusement. “Just another reminder that all the world’s a stage and you better behave in public.”
Ally nodded and laughed. “You never know who might be watching you,” she said, then she raised an eyebrow and looked Shannon up and down. “You look gorgeous. Date tonight?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. And thank you. I better get going. My ride is here.”
“Is your date hot? Is he good in bed?”
Shannon mimed zipping her lips, even though in her head she was answering yes.
“Shay!”
Shannon glanced back up the step.
“I have to go out of town in a couple weeks. I keep meaning to ask if you can feed my cat.”
“Of course. Just let me know the days. Nick is so cute. I love that tomcat.”
“He’s a total ladies man,” Ally said with a wink.
When Shannon slid into the air-conditioned white Nissan, she gave the Uber driver the location of the Cromwell near the Bellagio. As they drove, she decided to do a little online hunting herself. Brent had mentioned he’d had a gig in New York earlier that week—maybe a clip had surfaced somewhere. When she found a short snippet from his act at Bob’s Beer Haven and Comedy Club, she laughed, his routine cracking her up as he mocked himself so wonderfully. His clever self-deprecating style at times had always made her laugh. She leaned forward and asked to driver to drop her off at the candy shop near the Bellagio instead.