Holding Aces Page 17

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “Lottie, babe, you don’t need to go all guns blazing just to get a drink. Keep it cool, okay?” Spike chastises her gently and Lottie sits back in the seat, pushing out her bottom lip in a pretend sulk. Her eyes are still twinkling though, so I know she secretly likes it when Spike shows his alpha side.

  “We’ll have two dirty martinis, two Jack and Cokes and I think me and my girl here...” he sits back with Lottie, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, “...are gonna have some fun with some flaming Sambuca chasers,” Spike states. He kisses her hard and breaks away with a smile and rubs her nose with his. These guys are just too cute. Spike’s cuteness balances out Lottie’s crazy which makes for a perfect match.

  “Are you coming next Saturday, Ari?” Lottie asks.

  “Coming where?”

  “To the ball. Oh for goodness’ sake, D, you haven’t asked her?” she grumbles irritably.

  “Asked me what? What ball?”

  “Well, if your big mouthed friend had given me half a chance I would have asked you to come with me to the Summer Charity Ball next Saturday evening.” He stares hard at Lottie and she shrinks into her seat, picking up the martini that has just been placed on the table.

  “Eeek, sorry!” she squeaks out, looking toward Spike who affectionately shakes his head at her big mouth.

  “So will you come?” Denham asks tentatively.

  I hear Lottie snort at his question and it’s my turn to dig her in the arm with my elbow. An opportunity to turn an innocent question into something rude never escapes her.

  “OW! Well, come on, Ari, that’s kind of an open-ended question, don’t ya think?” she squeaks at me.

  “Well, I kinda think the answer depends on how good you treat her, D man ...” Spike teases. They both dissolve into fits of giggles and it’s hard to even pretend to berate them.

  Denham has one elbow on the table and his head in the palm of his hand.

  “It’s like having a couple of teenagers around with you guys. Arianna, I’m sorry about the two idiots sitting next to you, but I’d really like it if you would accompany me to the charity ball next Saturday.”

  “I would love to come with you, but can we talk about this in the morning when I’ll remember all the details?”

  “Sure thing, Stunner.”

  “Ari!” Lottie jumps up. “This is our song!”

  Low by Flo Rida is guaranteed to get us up and dancing wherever we are. She motions to Spike to down his shot with her, so he flicks a match and lights the clear liquid and they down it at the same time. Their faces are a picture and I’m so pleased they didn’t insist on me doing that; it would be more than I can take.

  “Come on!” she shrieks. She is out of her seat and grabbing my hands before I can blink, dragging me to the illuminated glass dance floor. The lights flash in time with the music and it doesn’t take long for us to be swept away with the tunes and let loose. After the champagne in the Limo and knocking back the dirty martini, I’m feeling fuzzy around the edges but not too drunk I can’t feel my feet. There are happy vibes all around me and other than the bimbo waitress earlier, I don’t catch a sly look or nasty vibe anywhere.

  Lottie and I dance for maybe five songs before I decide that I need a drink. The dance floor is starting to get crowded and there’s a small part of me that would like to go see my man.

  My man? Well, I don’t know where that thought comes from, it’s out of the blue. Or is it? Have I actually felt like that from the very second I crashed into his hard body and he flashed those wicked golden-flecked eyes at me?

  Maybe I’m crazy but I’m all right with it.

  I also know that I need to revisit this thought when I’m fully sober and not under any influence.

  Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines starts to play and Lottie mouths, “Oh my god.” I follow the direction of her eye line and the crowd starts to whoop and cheer as I see two very familiar bodies getting their groove on.

  What’s sexier than Denham King?

  Denham King dancing.

  He moves as if it’s as easy as breathing, and it looks like he and Spike have a little routine going on.

  “Is this a party trick they do?” I question Lottie,

  “Every time we come here … they dance.” She sighs dreamily. “Ari, you’re in for a treat with Denham, girl. He can sing, dance, and by the sway of his hips right now, I’d say the dude can make sweeeeet music.”

  I look to her incredulously. The statement sounds like she was smitten … with my man. And if it was anyone else I might have had to resist the urge to knock her out, but by the way she’s ogling Spike, I have no doubt that she only has eyes for one of them. Lottie makes no apologies for saying what she thinks, and in this instance, I think she’s right.

  I watch, mesmerized. Anyone would think I’ve never seem a man dance. I have. The main thing here is that I’ve never seen my man dance. And there I go again ...

  My man.

  I can’t help it.

  I like it.

  I want it. So badly.

  The song finishes and Denham and Spike bow to a crowd of excited onlookers. They high five each other, then move quickly toward us, trying to avoid the party goers that want to speak with them along the way.

  Denham’s sexy smile finds me and I have to check that I’m not drooling over the flashing dance floor. His chest is glistening with a fine sheen of sweat after his rhythmic exertions and his shirt sticks to him a little. I have to resist the urge to peel it off him right here.

  He slides his hands around my waist and nuzzles into my neck, burying his face into my hair and I feel him take a deep breath. “You smell like sunshine … or moonlight … I can’t decide which ...”

  “You sure gave Channing Tatum a run for his money up there,” I quip.

  “Yeah, well I taught him everything he knows.”

  “Oh yeah?” I say, feeling sassy. “Wanna teach me? I’d love to see some of your moves.”

  “Oh, you’re gonna. Every.” Kiss. “Single.” Kiss. “One.” Kiss.

  I grin and kiss him softly on the lips, holding there, eyes closed, drinking him in. I feel his lips twitch and his mouth open, letting his tongue snake out until it finds my bottom lip. I groan as the touch of his wet tongue sends signals between my legs. He sucks my lower lip as his hips grind against mine in time to the music and I slowly open my eyes and look up at him through a lust filled haze.

  The blink of the lights and getting knocked by someone dancing vigorously behind us, prompts us to move from the dance floor. I hold one of his hands with both of mine as we weave our way toward the bar, then he picks me up under my arms and places me on a high bar stool, nestling in between my legs.

  “Are you trying to show everyone my underwear?” I ask, pulling at the sides of my dress to cover my legs somewhat.

  “No one will be seeing your underwear, I’ll make sure of it. I just want to be between your legs,” he says deadpan. My eyes widen at his words. The alcohol has loosened his tongue too. “Don’t be surprised, Ari. I’ve wanted to be between your legs for days now. I’ve had more cold showers than I can count, and I’ve gotten very good at thinking of boring scenarios to get my mind off you. Nothing works.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. “It’s a problem, I tell ya.”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “There’s only one solution.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I need to stop thinking and start doing.”

  “Doing what?”

  “You, Ari, only you. All day, all night until you don’t see anything but me. Everywhere you go, everything you do, I want you to feel me, smell me and want me like I want you.”

  I feel my jaw drop to let more air into my lungs. He wants me, and hearing him say it in such a raw, carnal way ignites my soul and liquefies my insides.

  He grasps the back of my head and pulls me to him, kissing me hard. I
try and deepen it, but he pulls away, replacing his lips with his forefinger.

  “Save that thought, Arianna.” I don’t have time to reply before the bartender is in front of us ready to take our order. “Do I need to ask what you would like to drink?” Denham jokes.

  I shake my head no. I’m still speechless. I hop off the stool while Denham is talking to the bartender. I need to pee and I need to straighten up. “I’m just going to the ladies,” I utter.

  Denham gives me a gentle nod and I can feel his eyes follow me across the room. After using the bathroom and washing my hands, I look into the mirror. Miraculously, everything is still intact. Makeup is still perfect, hair a little more messed up than before but knowing the reason is because Denham’s fingers have been tangled in it … well, I can live with that. I smooth down my dress and I’m good to go.

  I head back out into the thrum of the main club and notice a table of men. I hadn’t noticed them before and the only reason I notice them now is because they’re all looking in my direction. I watch as one of them makes a joke and they all start to laugh, but their gaze doesn’t leave me as I walk toward them. I look around to find an alternative route to the bar, but there isn’t one.

  I pull back my shoulders and look toward the bar where I can see Denham laughing and joking with Lottie and Spike. I relax knowing they’re there. I start to pass the table and relax just a minute too soon. A cold strong hand with very long bony fingers shoots out to capture my wrist. I gasp and try to wriggle free which just makes him tighten his grip.

  “Hey, sweetheart, you’re a feisty one, huh?” I watch his eyes light up when he speaks to me. The dude is wiry, and not ugly, but not handsome either. He’s dressed in jeans and a tee and I wonder how he managed to get in here looking so underdressed. He stands up from his chair, blocking my view to the bar.

  “I saw you dancin’. You’ve got a fuckin’ hot body, you know that?” he drawls with his stale cigarette breath, making my stomach churn. It’s clear he’s had far too much to drink, and he’s even starting to sway a little.

  “Excuse me, but my friends are waiting for me at the bar,” I say politely, giving the man one chance to move. He glances over his shoulder, but still doesn’t let me pass, and my nervous adrenaline is turning into anger by the second.

  “Those your friends over there?” he says, screwing his nose up. “Hell, girl. You’re slumming it this evening,” he slurs, making his friends laugh. “Why ya wanna travel in economy when there’s a first class seat right here, baby.” He thrusts his hips forward and points at his crotch with his index finger. His scummy friends dissolve into fits of laughter at his antics, but I’m not finding this in the least bit funny.

  I place my hands gently on his shoulders and he looks shocked that I seem to be responding to him. Oh, I’m responding to him all right. “I asked you nicely,” I speak directly into his ear so he doesn’t miss a word, “to move and let me pass, but you thought it would be funny to try and humiliate me in front of your friends.”

  It’s clear that he’s confused as to how to handle me. The calm, threatening voice is always the worst. I’ve learned that from experience.

  “I don’t take kindly to being laughed at or indecently propositioned by cockroaches. My man is a hundred times the man you’ll ever be and after this, you won’t be any kind of man for some time.”

  I smile, a sinister, crooked smile that feels so fucking good. I’m fighting back, reclaiming my life, and unfortunately for this man, he’s bearing the brunt. My knee moves swiftly and powerfully upward. It connects with his groin at full force and he drops with a strangled moan. I watch with utter satisfaction as his eyes roll back into his head. With any luck, he’ll be out of action for quite some time.

  His friends leap up but don’t come to his aid until they’re sure I’m not going to turn on them. I step over the jerk and find Denham, Spike and Lottie standing on the other side of him.

  “Oh, hi guys,” I chirp nonchalantly.

  “Ari!” Lottie screeches. “That was badass! Did you see the way that guy dropped? Like a fucking tranquilized elephant.”

  “He was just in my way.” I shrug.

  Spike looks at me with an amused expression while Lottie bounces excitedly next to him, holding his hand. “Listen to you!” Lottie exclaims. “Remind me not to get on your bad side …”

  “You guys gonna stop staring at me like I have three heads and get me a drink, or what?”

  My cool, calm exterior is the opposite of the shaking mess I am inside, but the fact that I actually stood up for myself, that I fought back, makes me feel empowered. I’m still running on adrenaline which adds to the alcohol and the intense lust from a little earlier. It’s a potent, heady mixture, but one that makes me feel pretty damn good. I can’t stop smiling.

  Denham is still standing in front of me, silent, his brows drawn into a tight frown and his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his pants. I step into him, sliding my hands around his waist and hooking my fingers in the belt loops of his slacks, and pull him closer to me. With my heels on, there’s only a few inches difference in height, and he looks down at me through those thick, dark lashes that frame his golden eyes and tilts his head questioningly.

  “You’re brooding,” I state.

  His eyes narrow and his gaze pierces the guy who’s still rolling around on the floor. “I’m trying to decide if I should wait here and beat that guy’s ass when he gets back up or ...”

  “Or ...” I prompt.

  “Whether I should take you home right now and make you scream my name until sunrise.” His hard stare softens and he looks over me seductively.

  My mind is made up. If there was ever any doubt, it has been permanently erased. It’s not the drink talking. It’s lust …

  It’s happiness.

  It’s confidence.

  It’s him.

  All him.

  “Let’s go,” I say boldly, wetting my lip with my tongue and drinking in the desire oozing from him.

  THE LIMO DOESN’T CIRCLE THE Strip on the way home this time. The driver is instructed to take the shortest route possible and I don’t know if I should be pleased about that or not.

  I’m nervous.

  Sex has always made me nervous. I’ve never really enjoyed it. Never wanted it. I just did it because that’s what is expected of you when you’re a wife or fiancé.

  Until now.

  This, whatever I have going on here with Denham King, is different.

  I know it’s different because I feel a tingle start in my toes when he looks at me. It travels through every inch of my body, to the top of my head, every follicle, every nerve ending on high alert which thrills me as much as it frightens me.

  What if I’m not good enough?

  What if he doesn’t like my body?

  I know my nerves are unwarranted. Denham has shown me more love and compassion in the few days we’ve known each other than any man ever has.

  A few days. Less than one week.

  Is it too soon? Does this make me a slut?

  I can’t do it.

  A large hand creeps along my collarbone and gently grips the nape of my neck. I turn to meet his compelling eyes and something in his manner soothes me.

  I can do it.

  I want to do it, more than I’ve ever wanted to do anything.

  I catch a glint of the golden flecks in his eyes as he looks over me seductively.

  His look.

  His touch.

  It calms me. Makes me feel like anything is possible. I just need to learn to reach out and grab it with both hands.

  He kisses the pulsing hollow at the base of my throat and works his lips upwards.

  Sucking …

  Licking …

  Nipping …

  Leaving a searing path until he reaches my lips, claiming me hungrily and without apology.

  When the Limo slows he pulls back, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

  “Arianna—”


  “Shhhh.” I soothe, pressing my finger to his lips, knowing what he’s about to say. My eagerness this evening is reassurance enough. We’ve danced for days, now it’s time for the main show.

  He smiles, and kisses my finger before jumping out of the door purposefully and extending a hand to help me out. He walks calmly through the main foyer of the hotel, his demeanor confident. But underneath the cool, calm façade he is emitting, I sense this is something deeper for him as well.

  We enter the elevator, the usual crackle of electricity bouncing between us when we’re in this confined, intimate space. Denham takes up his usual position by my side, holding my hand and facing the doors, trying to disguise his elevating pulse rate and fast, shallow breathing.

  I drop his hand and stand in front of him, my back to the doors, and he looks to me questioningly. I want to show him that I’m ready, more than ready. I know he needs to know that I’m whole, that my mind isn’t blurred. “Just so you know ...” I speak seriously, with an edge of seduction. “This isn’t a snap decision.”

  I step into him, placing both of my hands lightly on his chest. “You’re not a rebound. I don’t know what you are yet, but I want to find out.” I move in closer, sliding my hands up his chest to his broad, muscled shoulders and continue to move forward, pushing him gently with my body so he backs up into the wall. “I want you. It’s nothing more complicated than that,” I state confidently.

  His eyes haven’t left mine. With each word, his pupils dilate further, the light smoldering in the gold flecks surrounding his eyes and he looks at me.

  Predatory.

  Passionate.

  My hands follow the collar of his expensive cotton shirt and find the first button that’s standing in the way of his smooth, sculpted chest. He watches me with his hands by his sides, not touching or interfering, silently giving permission to continue my exploration. I’ve seen his body. I know how it looks and I know how it feels. But somehow this feels different. This is a different discovery of each other. My body reacts as if this is the first time I’ve touched him, brimming with excitement and a desire that has so far been untapped.