“We’d play the slots, too,” she added, keeping up their Vegas dreams.

“We’d lose money and not care,” he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. Planting a kiss on the back of her neck. Making her shiver.

“See a show.”

“Fuck in a limo on the strip,” he said, tracing her hipbone with his strong fingers.

“Fuck in the elevator,” she said, sliding her leg through his, wanting to be wrapped up in him.

“Leave work behind. Leave the past behind.”

“Not look at my phone. Not think about my phone.”

“No one could reach us,” he whispered. “We’d get drunk on each other.”

She turned back around, needing to look at him, to see him. She ran a thumb over his lips, watching his eyes float closed as he hitched in his breath. “I’m already drunk on you, Clay.”

“Stay that way,” he said. “I need you to stay that way.”

“I will.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

He didn’t want the time with her to end. He didn’t want anything with her to end.

As he stepped into the elevator after dinner at an Italian restaurant that evening, he was painfully aware of the ticking clock marching towards tomorrow’s game, then Sunday morning when they’d meet Charlie at eleven, then Sunday afternoon when he’d put her on a plane and let her crisscross the country. As they reached his floor¸ the thought of sending her home again was like a cut inside the mouth, an annoying reminder that couldn’t be ignored. Because he wanted so much more with her. He wanted these moments to unfold every damn day.

But all he could do was make the most of this moment.

“I have a gift for you,” he said when they were inside his home.

A smile teased at her gorgeous lips. “A gift? I love gifts. However did you know?”

“Of course you love gifts,” he said, with the confidence of knowing her.

“Why do you say ‘of course?’” She leaned against the doorframe in his kitchen, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

“Because,” he said, running his fingers across the top of her skirt. “Because you know how to enjoy things. Because you don’t deny yourself. Because you let yourself feel pleasure and want. And that’s the kind of person who likes gifts. The kind of person who knows how to enjoy life.” He lowered his head to her neck, unable to resist brushing his lips against her soft skin. She shivered, and grabbed onto his shirt, tugging him close. “My point exactly,” he added.

She broke the embrace and made grabby hands. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

Stretching his arm around her, he scooped up the pink box that he’d left on the counter that morning. He handed her the gift, and tried his best to record every frame of her reaction. The way her eyes lit up as she ran a palm across the box, then as she untied the satiny white bow, letting it fall onto the counter. She lifted the top and peered inside.

“Ooh,” she said appreciatively, then took the black thigh-high stockings from the box, and laid the box on the counter. “Your favorite thing.”

He nodded.

“You want me to put these on now?”

“No. Save them. I need you to wear them tomorrow night.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

“It’s my poker handicap.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to win tomorrow. If you’re wearing those, I won’t, because it’s all I’ll think about,” he said, brushing his fingertips from her knees up her thighs.

Her lips parted as he neared the apex of her legs, but she pressed a hand against his chest, holding him back. “I want to win fair and square. I told you that. You promised.”

“I know you do. But you don’t need to prove to me you can beat me, Julia. I’m on your team,” he said, grabbing her hand and linking his fingers through hers. “And I need you to wear those tomorrow night for me. Say you will.”

He watched her. Her shoulders rose and fell, and she didn’t speak for a moment, as if she were considering it. “Why do you have to be so damn convincing?”

“It’s my job to make a good argument.”

“You’re too good at what you do. But I’d wear them for you anyway. And since it’s evidently Christmas early at your house, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to let you know I have something for you.”

“I love Christmas,” he said as she took his hand and guided him upstairs. When she reached her suitcase, she unzipped it and dipped a hand into the inside pocket.

“This is a surprise, so close your eyes.”

He did as she said. “I love surprises too. Did you know that?”

“No. But that suits you as much as you said my loving gifts suits me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because of the time you surprised me at my apartment. And then at McKenna’s wedding,” she said, as her heels clicked across the floor, and he felt her near him.

“Hold out your hands,” she told him, her sexy, sultry voice turning him on.

He opened his palms. “Put this on me,” she said, and he felt soft fabric fall into his hands.

When he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, he breath caught. A silk scarf was in his palms, and she was stripping off her clothes. “Blindfold me,” she said.

He flashed back to their night in San Francisco last month. She’d told him it was the only thing she didn’t want to do. “The thought of it makes me feel a bit too vulnerable, and for a woman with trust issues, well, I’m not sure it’s the best kind of kink for me.”

“But you said,” he began, but his words were swallowed dry as he watched her clothes fall in a heap on the floor, and she wore only her lace panties and heels.

“I know what I said.” She ran her hand down his chest, her touch sending tremors through his body. “But things changed, and I want to do this for you. This isn’t the same as you helping me out of my troubles, but even so, I want to give you what you want. Let me do this for you.”

He shook his head. “Don’t do this to say thank you.”

“I’m not doing it to say thank you,” she said firmly. “I’m doing it because I want to give you everything you want.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice hoarse, as he fought back the desire burning inside of him for this.

“I would never do something with you that I felt I had to. Everything I do with you I want to. I have so much want for you I don’t know what to do with it all, but to give you more of it. So sit down,” she said, and began to press her hand against him. She stopped. “Wait.” Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “I don’t think your fantasy is me telling you to sit down. You tell me what to do.”

Oh, fuck. He was done for. His body was dangerously close to overheating, and she hadn’t even touched herself. But this wasn’t his fantasy for nothing. He knew how he wanted her—al fresco. “I want you on my balcony.”

“As you wish,” she said, her eyes catching his, a spark in them as she glanced back at him and headed down the steps, giving him a perfect view of her gorgeous ass as she walked. His cock twitched hard against his jeans as he pictured all the things he wanted to do to her ass. When she reached the sliding glass door and tugged it open, she cast her gaze to the outdoors, then crooked a finger, beckoning him.

“On the lounge chair,” he told her, and she crawled across the cushions. He kept his eyes on her the entire time, savoring every move of her body as cars and cabs raced by five flights below. If he peered over the brick railing he could watch the Manhattan night roll along, the people walking down the cobblestoned street in the Village. But he wasn’t looking anywhere except at her. She shifted to her back, her red hair fanning out over a pillow, her long, luxurious body stretched across the wooden lounge chair. A warm breeze floated through the dark night, blowing wisps of hair across her cheek.

He straddled her, running the end of the silk blindfold over her belly, her breasts, then her throat, so the fabric teased her skin. Gently, he pressed the material over her eyes. She lifted her head so he could tie it behind her. As he tightened the knot, she wriggled her hips against his pelvis, and he felt the heat from her against the fabric of his jeans. “You want this,” he rasped out. “I can feel it. I can feel how fucking hot you are.”