by Sarah Curtis
Jessica was the spitting image of her mom with a tall, willowy figure, brown hair, big blue eyes. Pretty. Brittany, on the other hand, was gorgeous. Shorter than her mom and sister, petite yet curvy in all the right places. She had their same big blue eyes but hers were combined with long blonde hair and full, red, pouty lips that Steph, as a woman, could truly appreciate.
Brittany was also a flirt who had set her sights on Max from the moment she spied him. Steph hadn't felt jealousy in years, not since her time with Scott, and she'd forgotten what a horrible feeling it left in the pit of one's stomach.
Steph inched closer to Max, feeling territorial as Brittany went on about how handsome Max was, the expense of his designer watch, and the quality of his cashmere sweater. She even went so far as to rub her hand down his chest to feel how soft the material was.
Proving his devotion—which earned him several brownie points—Max draped a possessive arm around Steph's shoulders, moving them a large step back effectively dislodging Brittany's hand. Not taking the hint, Brittany chatted away, asking Max a dozen questions that he answered concisely, his tone short and bordering on rude. The best part? Between answering Brittany's questions, Max would whisper Spanish into her ear, making her giggle even though she hadn't the foggiest idea what he'd said. By the time they sat down for dinner, Steph was relaxed and feeling secure, the threat of Brittany a distant memory.
Jessica, on the other hand, Steph adored. She was sweet, witty, and didn't try to hit on her boyfriend.
Boyfriend?
What the heck. Where did that thought come from? Although, to be honest, if she were to imagine herself with a boyfriend, she'd want him to be exactly like Max.
It was official, she'd completely lost her mind. She only hoped she didn't lose her heart next.
Steph came awake slowly, stretching her arms over her head, squinting her eyes to bring the numbers on her bedside clock into focus. Still morning, barely, but hey, it had been a while since she'd seen eleven a.m. It helped she'd fallen asleep at a reasonable hour last night.
With the way their date had started—recap: the mind-blowing orgasm in her kitchen administered by the oh-so-sexy Max Vicente—she had to admit, she was a little, okay, a lot, disappointed at its conclusion. Max had walked her to her door but refused her invitation to come inside for a drink. Instead, he'd given her a light peck on the lips and told her to be ready by six o'clock the following evening. He was cashing in her rain check. How he'd known she had another night off, she didn't know. And quite honestly, she'd been a little afraid to ask.
But now she had a dilemma. She had nothing to wear to Sepitor's. Guess dress shopping would be on her agenda after all. She picked up her phone and dialed Alexis. She needed a shopping buddy, STAT.
They decided on one of the classier dress shops at Allure. Steph didn't want to spend a fortune but at the same time wanted a dress elegant enough for a five-star restaurant, and her employee discount would help solve that problem.
"What about this one?" Alexis held up a strapless, silk, floor-length in royal blue.
"I was thinking something..." a flash of color caught her eye, "...red," she said already en route to the dress. She pulled it from the rack. It was long, and even in the highest heels, would puddle on the floor.
"Oh, I love that," Alexis said coming up beside her.
Steph held the dress out in front of her, inspecting the front and the back. "It is pretty, isn't it?"
"Come on, let see what it looks like on."
Turning in front of the dressing-room mirror, Steph critiqued herself from every angle. The dress was beautiful, the material a thick satin in the deepest of reds. The top plunged low between her breasts held in place by a strap behind her neck, leaving her back on display. Yards of material fell from the waist with a slit up the front, cut so high, it was nearly indecent.
"What do you think?" Steph asked, executing another spin in front of the mirror.
"It's perfect for Sepitor's."
Steph smiled as she ran her hands down the silky-soft material. "I think it's perfect, too." She looked up, her smile fading as she noticed Alexis's serious expression. "What?"
Alexis opened her mouth, and an incoherent sound emerged before she snapped it closed. She wasn't usually shy, spitting out anything that was on her mind. That she hesitated to speak now, spoke volumes.
Steph's brows drew together as she waited for her friend to say whatever was on her mind.
Alexis took both of Steph's hands, squeezing them tightly. "We've been friends a long time. I know practically everything about you. I also know since Scott you've been scared, or at the very least, reluctant to get involved with anyone. I hesitate to say anything now, worried I'll rock the boat, but I just wanted you to know, I think Max is a great guy. I'm glad you're giving him a chance."
"No, you had it right the first time. I was scared." Steph gave Alexis's hands a squeeze back. "I am scared. But there's just something about Max. I'm not sure what it is, I only know he's breaking through my walls, and I'm not exactly upset he's managing to. I'm not getting my hopes up, thinking Max is my Prince Charming and I've found my happily ever after, but for the first time in a long time, I'm willing to take things a step further and see how it all plays out."
Alexis's eyes were shiny, and she nodded in agreement as if unable to speak.
"Don't you dare start crying because I'll start crying. We'll both be blubbering messes, Jack will get mad, and somehow it will all be my fault."
Steph got her desired effect—a giggle from Alexis. "Now come on. Let's go see how much money I have left in the bank after buying this dress and see about getting me some new shoes."
"Deal, but I'm buying lunch."
Steph gave her friend a smile. "Deal."
Steph had never been more nervous. Walking into one of the most expensive restaurants in Las Vegas on the arm of one of the city's most handsome men, she had a right to every butterfly circling her stomach.
When Max had arrived on her doorstep promptly at six to pick her up, he'd barely taken one look at her before pulling her out of her apartment and slamming the door shut behind them. He'd then grabbed her hand, quickly tugging her toward the stairs. All of that had been accomplished in a blur of swift movements, and all before she could utter a single word.
"What the heck? Max slow down. These shoes are hard to walk in, and my dress is long. I'm going to trip."
He stopped mid-stride, scooping her up—one arm under her knees, the other cradling her back—and continued to the stairs. In her current position, the slit of her dress fell open, revealing her legs to high-thigh. If anything Max's pace hurried, and she was quite certain she heard what sounded like a growl escape from deep in his chest.
"Please slow down. You're going to kill us." He flew down the stairs at an alarming speed, jiggling her about. And she was jiggling, with the deep plunge in the front and nonexistent back, she couldn't exactly wear a bra with her dress.
He stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs. "Fuck! Everything I do makes it worse."
"Makes what worse? What's going on."
He set her down on her feet and tipped his head back to darkened sky. He had that look again, the same one he'd had when they'd first met. Only this time she didn't think he was contemplating murder, but he was battling another emotion just as strong.
He looked back at her, his eyes executing a slow sweep, pausing on her breasts then taking another pause at the flash of leg revealed by the slit. "What's going on is my cock, wanting to be planted inside you so deep we'd both see stars and the need to get you away from a very available bed, couch, or hell, even your dining-room table."
She gave him a slow, sly sm
ile. "So you're saying you like my new dress?"
He gave her a wicked smile in return. "Yeah, I like your new dress."
So, was it any wonder Steph fidgeted as she scanned the room while being led to their table. All eyes seemed to be on them or most likely Max. She couldn't begrudge the women for gawking. Hell, she was staring, and Max was her date. Dressed in one of his expensive suits—this one a blue so dark it was almost black—the fit so perfect it could only be custom made. Dark hair swept back except for the one lock that never wanted to be tamed, falling over his brow. Just the command and purpose he had walking through the restaurant was enough to garner the women's attention and most of the men's as well.
They were shown to a cozy table for two, smack dab in the middle of the room. And by cozy she meant small, with barely enough room to hold all the dining paraphernalia. She had a feeling she'd be knocking over her wine or glass of water before the night was out. And wouldn't that be just peachy.
She was still fidgeting. Picking up her menu, snapping it open, then instantly putting it down. Placing the cloth napkin on her lap only to remove it, shake it out, and place it on her lap once more.
"You're uncomfortable."
Her head popped up. Max had leaned forward, elbows planted on the table. In such a position, he reached well into her half of the table—guess it being small was good for something. He captured her hands, bringing one then the other to his lips, kissing her knuckles.
She leaned her body forward as well, which brought their heads within inches of one another. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to put your elbows on the table?"
He tipped his head back and laughed, drawing all eyes to them once more. Even Steph couldn't look away—it was a spectacular sight. "If you knew how much my mother didn't teach me, you'd find your statement humorous as well."
She realized she didn't know anything about his parents or if he had siblings. Didn't know anything about his childhood. "Did you grow up here?"
He shook his head. "I was born in California, but grew up on the streets of New York. My mother shipped my sister and me to my grandparents when I was five. I was fifteen before she got her shit together enough to take us back. I moved to Las Vegas seven years ago when I started my company."
"Wow, you've accomplished so much." In the time it took him to build a business, all she'd managed was a few promotions and raises.
As if sensing her thoughts, he said softly, "Growing up the way I did, gives you ambition and drive you don't normally see in a person. I'm nothing special, just had a strong desire to rise above the hand I'd been dealt."
His thumb brushed softly across her knuckles. "You said you had a sister?" she asked.
He smiled. "Annabel. Older by three years. She lives in Florida with her husband and two kids. What about you? I didn't see any siblings at family dinner."
She shook her head. "No, I'm an only child."
Their waiter arrived, and she let Max order. She was sure whatever he picked would be delicious. He told her what it was—some name in French she'd never remember—then translated, explaining it was duck. She closed her eyes savoring every bite, deciding duck was her new favorite food.
Conversation flowed as freely as the wine. It was a great second date. She was having a really good time, and they were both relaxed.
Then she had to go and ruin it.
Over dessert—a rich and fluffy chocolate soufflé—she blurted, "My last boyfriend cheated on me."
Max stilled, spoonful of souffle hovering midway to his mouth, eyes locking and boring into hers.
Carefully he put the spoon back in the dish, removed her spoon from her hand, then leaned forward—again with his elbows on the table—clasping her hands and entwining their fingers. And all the while she was kicking herself for divulging her insecurities when everything had been going so well.
"Your last boyfriend was just that, a boy, not a man, and a very foolish boy at that because only a fool would risk losing someone as precious as you."
Stupidly, she kept babbling, revealing her biggest fear. "How do I know you won't do the same thing?"
"I've never been in a relationship for longer than a few weeks."
"How is that reassuring me?"
He placed a finger lightly over her lips. "Shh, let me finish." He recaptured her hand. "I always knew, deep down, when I found the one, I would know it. I won't lie, I've dated many women in the past, but none of them made me feel what I felt from just one look at you. You lit up my world and I would never," he squeezed her hands, "ever, do anything to extinguish that glow. Not after waiting a lifetime to finally see the light."
Call her a fool, but she believed him. And there in an elegant restaurant, sitting at a tiny table for two, she fell a little in love with Max Vicente.
Chapter Seven
Max didn't take her home. He took her to his high-rise condo. Pulling up in front of the building, he put the car in park as a valet opened her door.
"Thank you," she said as he helped her from the car.
"Ma'am." He tipped his head before slamming the door. "Good evening, Mr. Vicente."
"Evening, Nick," Max said, tossing Nick his keys over the top of the car.
"You in for the night, Sir?"
Max took hold of Steph's hand leading her to the entrance, calling over his shoulder, "Yes, go ahead and park her."
Well, that was clear enough, guess she'd be doing a walk of shame come morning. But at least she'd be wearing a fabulously sexy, red dress while doing it.
The front desk was empty, but a night security guard stood by the elevator. "Mr. Vicente," he said, giving Max a chin lift. He gave Steph a nod and a smile. "Miss."
"Carl," Max greeted as he pushed the elevator button, and the doors slid open.
"Do you know everyone's name?" she asked when the doors closed, and Max hit the button for the twentieth floor.
Max didn't seem to be listening. He was too intent on pressing her against the elevator wall, his hand finding and entering the slit in her dress, his fingers traveling up the bare length of her thigh. "I've been fantasizing about doing that all night." She didn't get a chance to respond before he said, "This, too." And then his lips were on hers.
It was not a gentle kiss. His tongue demanded entrance, invading and plundering, while his hand squeezed the inside of her upper thigh.
The elevator doors slid open, and he scooped her up, exiting swiftly. "I can walk, you know."
He looked down at her and smiled. "I like you in my arms."
Yeah, she liked being there, too.
He carried her to a door at the end of a hall then maneuvered her around so he could place his palm flat on a panel attached to the wall, gaining access. "Cool."
She heard him chuckle. "That's not even my best trick."
Oh, boy.
He set her down in the living room next to the couch, and she looked around. Nice furniture, leather sofa, glass coffee table, big screen TV, but not many personal touches other than a few framed photos on the mantel.
He flopped himself down on the couch, pulling her so she sat straddling his legs, her dress falling open at the slit revealing a hint of her red, lace panties. "Tell me, Princesa, are we a thing yet?"
As he talked, his fingers moved through her hair, finding and discarding pins, tossing them on the floor. The heavy length fell around her shoulders and down her back.
"What if I say no?"
He fingered a lock, twirling her hair, slowly reeling her in. "Then we don't get to see how many times I can make you come in one night."
"Now that would truly be a shame." She was reele
d in closer.
"Yes, it would." Closer.
"Guess we're a thing then." Closer.
"Good." Contact.
His hands found her bare thighs, slowly gliding up while his mouth devoured hers. Her hands gripped his shoulders to keep balance while his fingers found the elastic edge of her panties, slipping under to play with her folds. God, that felt good. She moved her hips, creating more friction. So close and he hadn't even touched her clit yet.
His fingers plunged inside, his thumb finding and rubbing her clit. Their lips disengaged as her head fell back and she released a low moan.
"So fucking wet." His words imparted in his deep timbre were almost her undoing.
She felt his other hand at her breast, plucking her nipple through the material of her dress, the slick fabric aiding his fingers. Still gripping his shoulders, head still thrown back, she rode his fingers lost in the sensations he invoked.
"Beautiful. Never seen anything sexier than you right now." His low, sexy growl had her shattering around his fingers.
She raised her head, still dazed, her breathing erratic. His hand cradled her cheek, his thumb playing over her lips. She looked into his eyes, a deeper brown now, as he stared at her with a fierceness full of promises. "Te quiero con todo corazon, mi amor."
She smiled around his thumb, and he moved it to her chin. "What does that mean?"
He shook his head slowly, his fingers trailing down her neck and around to her nape as he sat up straight, bringing their faces close. "I'll tell you later." He stood, his free arm supporting her under her ass, the other still cradling the back of her head. She helped, lightening her weight by locking her legs around his waist.
He walked them down a hall to a large bedroom, flipping on lights as they progressed. "Wow," she said as she unwrapped her legs, sliding down his body as he set her down. Where the living room had been stark, this room was warm. Earth tones, dark wood paneling, a bookcase filled to the brim with books. The dresser held more photos, all the same two kids, presumably his niece and nephew. Two guitars on a stand sat in the corner.