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Skylar rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
Dyllan pulled her close, her soft, lithe body pressed against his chest. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, babydoll. You won’t like what happens,” he whispered before biting her ear lobe.
Skylar sucked in a breath and stilled at his actions. He smiled before grabbing her hand and leading her toward the bar. As much as he wanted nothing more than to retreat to his room, he knew that his night just got a little more interesting.
Chapter Seven
Skylar
Skylar shot back the cold, clear liquid, trying not to think about how the vodka had stopped burning as it slid down her throat. She knew she should stop, that she would have one wicked hangover in the morning, but she couldn’t help it.
Dinner had been fantastic. Her friend back home wasn’t kidding about the chef in the hotel; he was amazing. He even came by to visit them for a while, and he was even more handsome than her friend had said. The problem was that her body didn’t react.
She wanted to. She willed her body to feel something for this perfect, gorgeous man who flirted with her. A man like him normally would have made her dream about moving to Vegas and letting him cook for her for the rest of her life. But her body felt nothing. Nothing like it did for the lumberjack lug sitting beside her.
After dinner, they had moved on to the local male revue show. Lila made sure they had front row tickets, complete with a blushing Kade being brought on stage for a lap dance. The men had been sexy, mostly naked, and unashamed at guiding her hands across their toned, muscular chests. Still nothing. Her body didn’t even stir. All she could think about was whether Dyllan would have felt the same. She imagined he was more rugged, with chest hair and muscles from hard, physical work outside, not from a gym. Tanned from the hot sun instead of fake.
It wasn’t until they were in the club, and he approached her, scolding her for her dress, that her body came alive. She felt him before she heard him. Knew he was coming after her. It wasn’t part of her plan to rile him up with the dress but boy, did she enjoy it. When he grabbed her possessively and pushed his body up against hers, she lit up like fireworks on Canada Day. That was the reaction she expected to feel from the chef. It was the reaction she would have expected to feel with the dancers as they took her palms and ran them across their oiled bodies. But no, she had to feel it with the moody jerk nursing his drink beside her.
Dang it, I need another shot.
“You should slow down, or you aren’t going to make it out of bed tomorrow,” he grumbled beside her.
“What’s it to you? You don’t want me around anyway,” she countered, staring ahead at the shelf of booze behind the bar.
Maybe something fruity this time? At least have it taste good while it gets the job done.
“I’ve never said that,” he answered quietly beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders slump slightly at the admission.
“You’ve never had to.” Skylar motioned for the bartender, giving him a smile.
“What can I get ya?” The bartender leaned on the countertop. His smouldering deep brown eyes seemingly stared into her soul.
“Would you recommend blow jobs or sex on the beach?” Skylar asked. The look on the bartender’s face and the way Dyllan coughed up his drink made her realize that not everyone around her could read her mind. “Drinks! For drinks! Which would you recommend?”
The bartender winked as he straightened his body. “Well, I’d never turn down either from someone like you, but I think you’d prefer sex on the beach.”
“Just get her the damn drink,” Dyllan barked.
The bartender shot her a wink as he turned and grabbed a glass. Skylar didn’t take her eyes off of him as he moved. His muscles worked under his tight, black button-up shirt as he grabbed the liquor bottles and mixed her drink.
He doesn’t move like Dyllan. His arms are smaller, shoulders more narrow. He looks like he swims rather than works with his hands.
Said lumberjack pressed his leg against hers as he readjusted in his seat, prompting desire to course through her veins at the briefest touch, burning her through his denim. Dyllan pulled away, and with the loss of his touch, she felt cold, empty. The bartender slid her drink to her with a sexy smile, perfectly placed brown hair falling over his eyes in a way that would make any member of a boy band jealous. She felt nothing.
“Well, H-E-double-hockey sticks. How am I supposed to deal with that?” she muttered to herself.
“Is there something wrong with the drink?” the bartender asked, glancing down at the glass between them.
“She’s fine,” Dyllan grumbled, throwing a couple of American bills down on the counter.
“You’re with him?” The bartender pointed at Dyllan.
“No,” she answered at the same time Dyllan said, “Yes.”
“Right then, I’ll leave you to that.” The bartender scooped up the bills and walked away.
“Who do you think you are, telling him we’re together?” Skylar turned on her stool, pointing her finger at Dyllan.
