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She barely suppressed a moan. What she’d give to hear his fantasies…
Do you want me on my knees? And what will leave you begging for my mouth wrapped around your cock?
“We’re here,” he said.
She followed him out of the cab, his supposed list momentarily forgotten as the man-made lake in front of the hotel sprang to life. Water shot from the fountains, accompanied by the familiar sound of “Luck Be a Lady.” And purple light illuminated the hotel walls in the background.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured as the water leaped higher and higher. “A work of art come to life.”
“I thought you would like the Bellagio fountains.” He moved behind her, wrapped his hands around her hips, and held her close.
“I wish I could paint this.” Bold blues rushed across the center. If she could capture the awe inspired by the water’s movement, the canvas would spring to life.
“Why did you become an artist?” he asked, his lips close to her ear as he held her.
“I started when I was sixteen,” she said.
In the weeks after her foster father had cut her face, when they’d taken her away from Natalie and, for better or worse, away from their ugly life. Those first few days, it had felt like a downward spiral into worse. As if she’d failed. As if she hadn’t been good enough. As if she deserved the mark on her face. But then the therapist had given her paints.
“Someone handed me a brush, and once I started painting, I couldn’t stop,” she continued, leaving out the hows and whys linked to the scars hidden behind her mask.
“What drew you to painting?”
“I think I fell in love with bringing the beauty of a single moment or emotion to life,” she said. “When I’m painting, I can break free from everything else and lose myself in what I’m creating. It’s not too different from being here.” She let out a low laugh. “Sin City and art—I always thought they were like apples and oranges.”
“There’s more to Vegas than casinos and clubs,” he said. “There’s beauty here, too.”
Her laughter died. This place represented his home and his childhood. For him, it was more than an escape. “Did you come here, to these fountains, a lot when you were growing up?”
“They opened about fifteen years ago, when I was still in junior high school. Or at least that’s the first time my parents and I came to see it. My mother loved this show.”
Loved. Past tense. She glanced over her shoulder at the powerful man standing behind her. “She’s gone now? Your mother?”
“No. Well, not like that.” He kept his gaze focused on the water show. “She’s remarried and living in Boston now. But it might as well be the moon considering how often I get out there or she comes west. I try for one holiday a year, but my leave doesn’t always line up.”
When she’d formed the plan back in Tennessee, intending to pick up a man, she hadn’t envisioned learning about his past, his childhood, anything beyond the here and now. The man in her fantasy walked into her life a stranger and left the same way. But with Cade, she wanted to know more, to ask about his family. And just how bad had he been before?
Did she have the right to delve into his secrets when she refused to show hers?
The water show ended, and the people lined up at the railing drifted away
and moved on with their nights. He remained pressed against her, his arms holding her tight.
“Ready to see what else Vegas has to offer?” he asked, his low voice teasing her senses. Every time this man opened his mouth, her body longed for his touch.
She leaned her head back against the broad wall of muscle she had yet to explore. If she had the courage to follow her plan to the end, this night might end with his tuxedo jacket on her hotel room floor, his shirt abandoned on a chair, and her fingers tracing the contours of his chest.
She stared out at the still water that had been bursting with life and movement minutes earlier, possessing a beauty she’d wished she could capture and express on a canvas. Did tonight have to be any different than a painting? A fantasy so real that she couldn’t tell the difference, but when it came time to turn away, it wouldn’t follow her back to reality.
“No, I’ve seen enough of Vegas,” she said. She bit her lip, and with one hand still clutching her purse, the other moved to his thigh. “I want to see more of you.”
She was stunned she’d let the words escape. Silence filled their little bubble of Vegas, the dull roar of the never-ending stream of people fading into the background as she waited for his answer.
“And then?”
“I want…”
“Tell me, Lucia,” he commanded. “Tell me what you want. Spell it out for me. Every detail. Don’t hold back.”
