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Oh boy, was she in trouble.
“Fine. One kiss. But I’m going to make you work for it.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Ethan extended his hand to her, and she took it without hesitating.
He led her across the street towards the mammoth structure of the Mirage Hotel. Sam had watched plenty of representations of Vegas in movies and on countless episodes of CSI, but nothing she’d seen had prepared her for the scale of the place. Everything was huge, and just walking through the crowds and staring up at the hotels made her feel insignificant. She hadn’t felt that way since her first memories of walking through the redwoods back in Oregon. Somehow Vegas managed to capture the same sensation, even more than being in a real large city could. Maybe it had something to do with being able to see the Eiffel Tower, the New York City skyline and a scaled-down Sphinx all in one stretch of road.
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It was too much stuff for her poor brain to process.
Ethan guided her past the Mirage and Caesars Palace—a structure so gargantuan Sam was sure the whole population of her home town could fit in it and still have room for ten thousand extra guests—and he didn’t stop walking until they reached an alcove in front of the Bellagio, with a view of the half-scale Eiffel Tower across from them.
“Do you think taking me to Paris is all it will take to dazzle me?” she teased.
“Paris is over there.” Ethan pointed to a blue neon hot air balloon with the French city’s name scrawled over it in shimmering yellow lights. “What I’m showing you is there.” He indicated a wide span of black water, which seemed utterly unimpressive compared to the edifices surrounding it.
“You figure that’s kissworthy? You must be used to some easily astonished girls.”
“As true as that might be, hold your horses for a second.” He checked his watch then angled her towards the water with two firm hands on her waist. He didn’t pull away immediately, his fingers trailing up her spine and stopping on her shoulders, both thumbs kneading the tense point at the base of her neck. “Trust me.”
“Said the porn star.”
Ethan leaned in, his lips so close to her ear she could feel the heat from his mouth when he whispered, “I’m going to make you eat those words. And you’re going to like it.”
Sam shuddered involuntarily, and liquid heat speared her in the most intimate place, making a wave of goose bumps prickle up her arm hairs.
The hard-rock song blaring over the Bellagio speakers grew quiet, and the faint strains of a classical symphony replaced them. Considering how everything she’d heard up to that point had been the most obnoxious, overpowering music available, the classical tune was a jarring—but welcome—change of pace.
The music swelled up, and with it a row of small fountains emerged from the water, lit bright white so it appeared as if the water itself was glowing. Sam stood rapt as the spouts began to bend and arc in time with the music, the water starting low then suddenly shooting up into the air sixty feet, blotting out the view of Paris behind them. A circle in the center of the display rose higher than everything around it, and the mist left behind was illuminated by the lights of the Strip, glowing like fairy dust as it fell to the lake’s surface.
The display continued for five minutes, with the fountains moving with the music, bowing and dipping like a living thing. With one final, triumphant upwards explosion the fountains vanished, leaving the water smooth and calm while the last curtain of mist fell back to the surface. The music died out, and Sam was left only with the hammering sensation inside her chest.
Tourists around them started to move away, leaving the balcony almost clear and the gleaming structure of the Eiffel Tower behind them. The hard rock kicked in again with a whining guitar solo, making Sam’s ears pound in time with her heart.
“Wow,” she said, when she could form words.
“Good wow?”
“Very good wow.”
Ethan smiled, his hand going to her waist as she turned away from the view of the fountain. “Would you say you were…dazzled?”
“I want to lie, because you’re smirking at me like you’ve won the Super Bowl, but I can’t. That was amazing. Consider me thoroughly dazzled.”
“Oh, you’re not thoroughly dazzled. Not yet.” His hand tightened on her waist, tugging her closer, and she didn’t feel the urge to resist him. Instead she yielded to his embrace, going willingly as he pulled her body against his.
He was taller than her, which was a delight in and of itself since she was five-foot-nine and often had trouble meeting men who weren’t put off by her stature. Ethan was barely six feet tall, but it was enough of a difference he had to bend his neck to kiss her. The gesture made her feel small and feminine.
His free hand cupped the back of her neck, and his fingers were warm in the desert night air. She trembled when his lips met hers, having difficulty remembering the last time a kiss had made her feel like a nervous schoolgirl.
Ethan didn’t kiss like a porn star, at least not how she’d decided he would based on the movie she’d seen. His lips were soft and gentle, the barest brush against her mouth, and he pecked her once, then lingered longer the second time.
When it seemed as if he might pull away, leaving her wanting, Sam reached out and held his face between her nerve-dampened palms, keeping him locked in place. Her tongue grazed his lower lip, and in its wake she nipped him lightly, then hesitated, afraid he might be spooked by her forwardness.
She felt his smile, though she couldn’t see it, and he whispered, “I knew there was a bad girl in there.”
He pushed his body firmly into hers, his grip on her neck tightening as he deepened the kiss from his end. His tongue delved into her mouth, teasing hers with a wicked curl and sending sparks of pleasure rioting through her body. He tilted his head for a better angle, forcing her mouth wider, and she drank in his unique flavor as her tongue brushed his. Ethan Silver tasted like pure lust—spicy and dangerous—and she couldn’t get enough.
