Page 8 of Chasing Kings


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“And it makes you happy?”

“When I sell enough to pay the bills? Absolutely.”

“Okay, well…I like sex. I’m good at sex. I’m the fucking da Vinci of going down on women. The Greeks would have written epic poems about me.” He grinned at her, leaning in a little closer. “So why shouldn’t I get paid to do what I love?”

“Oh.”

“I’ll let you stew on that for a bit.” He got up, leaving his glass on the ottoman, and located the suite’s phone to call the front desk for her. Five minutes later he’d gotten six apologies and the assurance both he and Samantha would be comped a night for the mistake and would each receive a bottle of champagne.

When he got off the phone, Sam was no longer in the living room. He found her in the hallway trying hard not to stare at the wriggling silhouettes on the wall.

“Going somewhere?”

“I should leave.”

“I sorted things out with the hotel. Your real room should be ready.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes, and grabbed the handle on her bright pink suitcase. “It was nice meeting you,” she said, and he almost believed her.

“What are you doing in Las Vegas over Valentine’s, Samantha Hart?”

“I…” She stared at her suitcase. “I was supposed to come in March for an independent booksellers convention, but my travel agent made a mistake. By the time we figured it out, the tickets were nonrefundable, and…here I am.”

“By yourself?”

Samantha shrugged. “No big deal.”

She didn’t strike him as the kind of girl who really thought it was no big deal to be alone at a nice hotel on V-Day. He said, “Maybe I could—”

A knock at the door interrupted him, and Samantha looked relieved for the rescue. Saved by the bellhop. “Sorry again about the mix-up.” She offered him a polite smile then disappeared into the hall.

“Hey, Sam?” he called, having had his last attempt cut off.

She returned to the room, nervous curiosity apparent in her features. “Yeah?”

“Maybe I could take you out, show you around town?”

She blushed. “That’s a nice offer, but I think I’ll pass. I’m just going to hang around the hotel mostly anyway.”

It was flimsy as excuses went, and Ethan was nothing if not persistent. When Sam left the suite, she might have assumed that was the last she’d see of him, but he had other plans in mind.

Chapter Four

Finally.

Sam flopped onto her mattress, sinking into the thick, cozy embrace of the down comforter. A bottle of champagne on ice had greeted her in the room, a nice apology from the hotel for their part in the mix-up. She’d enjoy it later with a bubble bath, but for now she just wanted to sleep.

Maybe when she woke up her whole encounter with Ethan Silver would prove to be nothing more than a weird pseudo-sexual dream. Of course, only Sam could have sex dreams without any actual sex in them. Just prowling, leather-clad hotties who ate women out for a living.

She shivered, remembering the silky quality his voice had when he talked about how much he loved sex. Sam liked it as much as the next girl, but she hadn’t had any in six months, not since her breakup with Boring Kyle. Perhaps her brain was messing with her now, offering up an imaginary plaything she couldn’t possibly touch.

Could she?

No.

She scolded herself. Of course she couldn’t start anything with Ethan. It wasn’t going to happen. He was a porn star, for crying out loud. What would she tell the girls at home?

What happens in Vegas…

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