Wherever It Leads (10 page)

I’
ve died and gone to heaven.

Twirling slowly in the center of the living room of our suite, I take in as much of the grandeur as I can. Even though we’ve been in the hotel for almost an hour already, I can’t get enough of this place. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen what I think are some pretty magnificent places with Presley. The suite is classic and beautiful, with crystal chandeliers looming everywhere, marble on the counters and floors, and attention to detail on everything from the throw pillows to the vases filled with fresh flowers.

The echo from the door closing in the foyer rings through the room. I hear Fenton’s shoes squeak against the tile and nearly lose my breath when he rounds the corner. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, his hair damp from the shower. Seeing him never fails to make me weak, but in a suit—I’m a puddle. He’s so divine, so perfect, I can’t believe my eyes. And when he flashes me the grin like he does just now, I nearly drop to my knees.

“Everything look all right?” he asks.

I want to let him know exactly how
all right
things look from my perspective and that it has nothing to do with the room, but rather the man standing in front of me. His jaw tenses as he waits for my reply.

“This is just spectacular, Fenton,” I coo, deciding to keep it about the more permanent features. “Honestly. I don’t even know what to say.”

He saunters towards me in what would appear a relaxed manner, but it’s not. I can see the truth in his steely eyes. He’s on a mission—for what, I’m not sure. But I’m hoping to know soon.

I nibble my bottom lip and watch him near. His features have darkened, the playfulness of only moments ago now long gone. He stands so close we nearly touch, but the bastard doesn’t allow that to happen. That would be too easy. I’m learning that he likes to torture me with his self-restraint, something I thought I had in spades but he swipes away with his deft skill.

“This is my favorite room in this hotel,” he says, looking down at me. “But I have a feeling after this week, it’s never going to look the same.”

“Is that so?” I gulp.

He grins. “It is. Or I hope so, anyway.”

I start to respond when he reaches out and touches the side of my face. His skin is smooth and warm as he caresses my cheek, his thumb stroking my jaw deliberately. My breath hitches in my throat and I fight not to lean into his touch. It would be too easy. Way too easy, and I want to show him I too have some restraint. Maybe. Barely.

“I have to work for a couple of hours,” he says.

“What?” His words are like cold water being dumped on my head. I guess the suit should’ve been a giveaway, but it still shocks me that he’s leaving me already.

He drops his hand and chuckles. “I do. Just for a little bit. I did come here to work, remember?”

“Oh, of course. I just . . . I . . .”

“Did you have something else in mind?” he teases.

My cheeks heat. I shake my head, my long locks swishing against my shoulders.

“I think you did, Brynne.”

He tips my chin with the touch of his finger so I’m looking at him again. “I’ll tell you a secret. I had something else in mind as well. But something has come up and I have to go. But what you had in mind? We’ll get to it, I promise. Whatever you envisioned, I’ll make happen.” His head bows slightly, leaving a shadowy look to his features. “And I’ll make it happen in a way you’ll never forget.”

He removes his touch and I instantly miss it. Crave it. Need it.

“When the time comes, I don’t want to be rushed. I want to take my time with you. That’s the reason I’m not touching you right now, okay? I want that to be very clear.” He leans in, his breath dancing across my cheek. “When I finally touch you, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

He steps back, putting much more space between us. The energy in the room swirls, so charged that I get a little light-headed. Fenton watches me for a long minute before turning toward the door. He stops in the entryway and faces me.

“If you need anything, you have my number. Or call the front desk and they’ll arrange for whatever it is.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“A couple of hours. Three at most. But trust that I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

He leans against the wall, one hand stuck in his pocket. He looks calm and collected. And he’s leaving me like this—a wound up ball of sexual energy. That’s not fair.

He sweeps my body with his eyes. I can feel them roaming over my shoulders, down my breasts, over my hips, and pushing slowly down my legs. He licks his bottom lip and I’m done.

Screw restraint.

“Hey, Fenton,” I say, moseying unhurriedly towards him. My heels click against the floor, each step a douse of gasoline on an already burning flame. He shoves off the wall, his eyes flickering until I stop a couple of inches away from him. “Hurry back, will ya?”

Before I can talk myself out of it, I rise up and press my lips against his. I’m not sure what his reaction will be, but I won’t be the only one waiting around flustered for him to come back.

As soon as contact is made, his arms are wrapped around my back, pulling me deliciously into his rock-hard body. Our mouths move against one another, a frenzied, yet luxurious pace. The rhythm is immediate, like they’ve done this a hundred times before.

His lips are soft against mine, his breath hot with a touch of sweetness. My fingers find the back of his silky hair and I urge him on, relishing the contact with the hottest man I’ve ever seen. His large palms press against the thin fabric of my shirt, the friction and pressure searing.

Way too soon, he pulls back, a huge smirk on his face. With raised brows, he shakes his head. “Keep that up and this entire trip will be futile.”

“I’m not sure how bad that would be,” I breathe, my voice raspy.

He glances at his watch and laughs. “I’m late and you’re making me want to blow off a meeting I’ve been after for six months.”

Guilt swamps me. I take a few steps back and motion for him to go. “I’m sorry, Fenton. Go. Go work.”

He laughs and comes to me, planting a sweet kiss on my lips. “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize for that, Brynne. I’ll just have to talk to my associates with a raging hard-on.”

Giggling, I shoo him off again. “Do whatever it is you have to do and get back here.”

He tosses me a wink and is gone before I know it, leaving a trail of his cologne behind.

I watch the door, hoping he comes back, but he doesn’t.

Heading into the living room, I find our bags sitting next to the sofa. I have no idea how they got here or when, but I dig around until I find my cell phone. Flipping it on, I find three missed calls from Pres.

I call her back and stretch out on a cream-colored sofa beside a wall of tinted, curtain-less windows. Vegas is stretched out below me, the mountains in the distance. It’s a gorgeous view. Not as good as the one that just left, but good nonetheless.

“It’s about damn time!” Presley screeches into the phone, making me laugh. “I was about ready to call Nick and have him send people to go get you.”

“And to think—you’re the one that told me I’d be fine.”

She sighs dramatically into the phone and I laugh again. My head rests on a red pillow with navy blue swirls as I listen to her go on and on asking why I didn’t text her when we landed.

“I’m fine, Pres. He just left to go to a meeting, so I found my phone.”

“He left you? Already?”

“Well, he did come here to work.”

“True.” She blows a bubble and it pops loudly. “So, what’s the plan? You just hang out while he’s gone?”

“Yeah,” I shrug, watching the lights blink below. “I might go down to the pool or something. He said to do whatever I want while he worked. But I need to explore this suite first. You should see this place. It’s incredible.”

“The suites are nice in Vegas. And the hotel you’re in is really known for its elegance.”

I roll my eyes. “You would know. Sometimes I forget who you are.”

She laughs. “Call me when you can. I have a date tonight, actually, so I need to go get spiffied up.”

“Oooh! A date? With who?”

“Just some guy I met at a cocktail party last week. He’s pretty cute and has a band. I’m going to be careful though. Swoon regret with rockers happens a lot.”

“Your’e so dumb,” I laugh. “All right, I’ll call you when I can. Have fun!”

“Hey, Brynnie?”

“Yeah?”

She pauses before she continues. “I like hearing you like this. Excited. Happy.”

“What’s not to be happy about?” I ask, raising up on the sofa. “I’m rebounding.”

“That you are.”

Resetting the button. That’s all I’m doing. That’s all this is.

S
tepping inside Funda, the upscale restaurant tucked inside the hotel, is like walking into a different planet. The hotel is loud and glittery, everything buzzing and pulsing with energy as casinos typically do. But inside the restaurant, nestled into a back corner, it’s the exact opposite.

I smooth my hands down my dress, a sheer, nude sheath dress with a turquoise embellished overlay. It has beautiful ribbons that wrap around my waist, making me look curvier than I really am. A dapper-looking man in a suit smiles as I walk into the restaurant and I nod politely, but don’t make eye contact. I’m nervous enough as it is—too nervous to risk opening my mouth. Besides, I’m here to see one man. The man that left the suite nearly five hours ago.

I didn’t hear from him all day. I headed to the pool after talking to Presley and read a little on a chair until my skin started feeling like it was going to melt off in the Nevada sun. There’s a little ice cream shop on the way to the room that I stopped in for lunch and then napped a little in the room. I was surprised that it had been two more hours and still there wasn’t a missed call or text. After showering and trying to read again, the text came to meet him at Funda.

People sit on oversized, backless sofas in the entryway as I make my way to the hostess desk. Once I identify myself as a guest of Fenton, I’m whisked through and pass other impeccably dressed diners through an archway to a more private dining room. There are five or six tables, but I don’t check them out. I’m focused on the man sitting at the table in the far corner.

Fenton’s running his finger around the brim of a tumbler, looking off into the distance. His forehead is marred, his mouth forming a thin line. The waiter clears his throat as we approach and Fenton jostles back to the present. Once again, his gaze roams slowly over my body. When it lands on my face, the stress melts from his.

He stands and whips around the table, pulling out my seat. “You look gorgeous, Brynne.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, sitting. “You look more stressed than I’d like to see you.”

He moves back around the table and takes his seat once again. He pours me a glass of wine. “I apologize for being gone so long today. Things took longer than I expected.”

“It’s fine. Like you said, you came here to work, after all.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about being gone all afternoon.” A stormy look passes over his features and I wonder what happened today, but I don’t ask. It’s not my place. So I go for the more general inquiry.

“How was your meeting?” I ask.

“Good. Tense. Frustrating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. Some people are just really hard to deal with. I wonder sometimes if they get off on just being complete jackasses.”

I laugh, having had those same thoughts before myself. “I think they do. You can completely bend over backwards for some people and it’s just not enough. They’ll press you for more and more. Or they’ll turn you around and bend you over again and stick it to you from behind.”

A waiter slips in and places a covered dish in front of each of us and is gone within seconds.

“I ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I say, lifting the lid. “This looks great.”

“I hope so. I didn’t want to spend any more time here than we need to.”

“Good idea.”

His eyes sparkle with promise, making my mouth water. He’s so different than any guy I’ve been with before in every way. He puts them all to shame.