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Relief flooded through him. She could have said no. She could have outed him as a friend. She could have blown him off and walked out of the nightclub with the guy, but Dylan knew that wasn’t Serena’s style or MO. That this flashy, wanton Vegas persona wasn’t her in real life, and had most likely been an act to make him sweat. Well, the joke was on her because if that had been her ploy, she definitely had his attention.
“You could have told me earlier,” the guy muttered, then stalked off the dance floor, leaving Dylan and Serena facing one another.
She braced her hands on her hips, her eyes now flashing with annoyance. “That’s the second time tonight you scared off a guy. You can’t keep doing that.”
“Yes, I can,” he argued. “I invited you to Vegas, so you are with me.”
Understanding dawned across her expression. “Are you trying to cock block me?” she asked incredulously.
One hundred percent yes. “No. You’ve asked me to dance. Three times. I’m here. Now let’s dance.”
He barked the words out like an order, and instead of irritating Serena, a devious smile curved her lips, and she did exactly what he’d asked, but in a way they’d never danced before. In previous situations
, dancing together had been all platonic, wholesome, friendly fun with teasing and laughing and busting out some of the latest dance moves to keep things light and entertaining.
Not so tonight. Tonight, she was embracing her inner bad girl, when she’d always been the quintessential good girl, which made the transformation even more arousing. There was nothing innocent or chaste about the way Serena moved her body to the beat of the music, or how she lifted the hair from the back of her neck and executed a slow, sensual shimmy that made his dick excruciatingly hard. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and caressed her hands along the sides of her breasts and down her hips, then turned around and brushed her curvy bottom against the front of his pants, causing a dozen dirty, filthy thoughts to trample through his brain.
Fucking hell. She was deliberately taunting him, testing to see just how far she could push his limits before his restraint totally snapped. She was close to achieving her goal. So fucking close it took every ounce of effort he possessed to keep his hands to himself, instead of securing his arm around her waist, anchoring her body tight to his, and grinding his aching cock against her ass and shocking the hell out of her with his blatant erection when she believed he was immune to her as a desirable, fuckable woman.
After three agonizingly long songs, Dylan was desperate to put distance between them. “I think it’s time we call it a night,” he said, glancing around the club for Eric and Chelsea but not finding either one.
“I thought you wanted to dance,” she said, and he didn’t miss the sassy, mocking tone to her voice as she raised her hands above her head and swiveled her hips way too sensually.
Oh, yeah, she was totally yanking his chain. “We danced, it’s almost midnight, and now it’s time to go.”
“I don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, so I’m good.” She gave him a little finger wave as she continued to dance. “You go right ahead, though, and I’ll see you in the morning when it’s time to leave for the airport.”
He shook his head adamantly. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
She blinked at him guilelessly. “Why not? I’m a big girl, Dylan.”
“Because you’ve had a few drinks,” he said, stating the obvious.
“You don’t trust my judgment?”
She finally stopped moving, her face beautifully flushed, just how he’d always imagined she’d look after sex. Stop fucking thinking about sex with her, asshole, because your dick can’t take much more visual stimulation.
“No, I don’t trust the men here not to take advantage of you,” he replied honestly. “I can’t find Chelsea and Eric, so I’d feel much better knowing you were safe and sound in your room for the night and not in this nightclub alone.”
“Fine, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” she said for the second time this evening, which only made him grumpier. “It was fun while it lasted.”
Grateful she’d agreed, he took her hand and they made their way through the crowded club. Once outside the venue, he released his hold on her and they walked quietly to the bank of elevators, where a whole group of people shuffled into the lift behind them, squishing Dylan and Serena into the back corner.
Her warmth and scent wreaked havoc on his senses with every breath he took. He was still on edge from her rubbing up against him on the dance floor, and it didn’t help matters that her backside was inches away from finding out just how hot and bothered she’d managed to make him. He was so excruciatingly hard his dick throbbed for relief, which sadly it wasn’t going to get tonight, and he shifted his stance so his erection didn’t end up prodding Serena’s ass.
It seemed to take forever until they reached their floor, and they quietly walked down the hall toward their separate junior suites, which were located directly across from each other, with him and Eric on one side, and her and Chelsea on the other.
She retrieved her key card from the small purse she’d worn with the strap across her body so she didn’t have to hold the bag. He started to tell her good night as she waved the plastic card in front of the lock mechanism, but the faint sounds he heard coming from inside her room—unmistakable moaning, groaning, sex noises—had him blurting out, “Don’t open the door!” right as she pushed inside.
She sucked in a startled breath and froze as she belatedly realized what she’d just walked in on—their friends getting laid. With each other. Half-dressed, Eric was sitting on the couch in the living room area, with Chelsea straddling his lap, her dress hiked up to the tops of her thighs as they kissed and groped and moaned in pleasure, oblivious to the fact that they had an audience. Jesus, out of courtesy, the least they could have done was hang the do-not-disturb sign on the door.
“Oh, crap,” Dylan heard Serena rasp. Clearly flustered, she spun around, and in her haste to get out of the room, she slammed right into him as the door shut behind her.
The unexpected impact had her wobbling on her heels, and his hands automatically shot out to grab her arms, then hauled her close to keep her steady on her feet.
Big fucking mistake. Not only because her sweet, firm breasts were crushed against his chest and her body plastered to his, but the big, round eyes staring up at him in shock had nothing to do with what they’d just witnessed and everything to do with the stiff length of his erection tenting his pants that was now pressing insistently against her belly.
“Oh my God, are you turned on because you just saw . . .”
