Declan’s jaw drops.
I give him a death scowl. I am also unexpectedly aroused, and the combination of embarrassment and simple biological reactions makes the room spin.
Bzzzzzz.
That’s his phone.
“If you,” I say through gritted teeth, “actually think that I am going to hang out at a topless bar with you, Andrew and Amanda, you’re delusional.” I look at Amina’s rack. “And besides, my boobs are way better than hers.”
To his great credit, Declan immediately stands up and turns to the dancer, handing her a couple hundreds he’s pulled out of his wallet. “There’s been an enormous misunderstanding,” he says to her, throwing more money on the table and grabbing me so fast I stumble, unable to keep up with him, but somehow I figure a way out.
He bursts through the doors to the street and stands there with such a pitiable look on his face that I burst out laughing, the sound part horror, part hilarity, and part shock.
“You—you thought I wanted you to take me out to dinner at a topless bar?”
“That’s what you said!” He throws his hands up, flinging them toward the heavens, as if the God of Pasties will come to his rescue.
“When have I ever asked to go ogle strange, naked women with you as a form of dining entertainment?”
“Never. But there’s a first time for everything, and we’re in Vegas, and you clearly said ‘topless’ bar.”
“T-A-P-A-S. I said TAPAS!”
“You were going on and on about savoring the exotic, and licking melons, and sharing whatever we both liked—”
“And you thought that suddenly meant I wanted to hang out in a meat show with you? And—” I shudder “—share?”
He stops and goes quiet, looking down at the ground, hands planted on his hips, nodding slowly. Declan looks up, his face half-hidden in the shadows of a street light.
“Well, yeah. It did seem a little too good to be true.”
Our phones ring. Simultaneously.
“Don’t you dare answer that,” I growl as I fish my phone out of my purse.
“You can answer yours, but I can’t answer mine?” He ignores me and takes the call. I answer mine.
“What’s going on?” Amanda asks, breathless.
“I said TAPAS!” I scream. “T-A-P-A-S!”
“Oh.” She almost sounds...disappointed? “Well. I guess we really shouldn’t join you, then, if, um, it was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Ya think?”
I hear her whispering in the background, then a man’s groan of frustration. She comes back to the line and asks, “Just, you know, out of pure curiosity, what’s the address you’re at?”
Click.
Declan ends what is obviously a call with Andrew and gives me a wild look. “I gave the table to Andrew. Texted Geordi. He’ll be here any minute. We can go back to our suite and pretend this never happened.”
My stomach growls.
“If you think,” I say in a menacing voice as I walk slowly toward him like a mother lion going after a hyena eyeing her cubs, “that we can pretend this never happened, you’re certifiable.”
He winces, his mouth going tight.
I kiss it.
He rears back in shock.
“What?” My kiss muffles the end of the question, his mouth softening fast, responding to the sudden connection. My body is pounding from adrenaline and I wish I had more wine. He tastes like grapes and sweetness, and he’s covered in a fine sweat, his scent all male and hot and what the hell just happened in there?
“You hired a special dance for me from a woman who can bend like a pipe cleaner with two watermelons attached,” I fume, turned on and furious at the same time. I’m not sure whether to slap him or spank him.
Maybe both.
“I’m so sorry.” He looks bewildered and confused, contrite and simultaneously really turned on, and it occurs to me that I have the upper hand here. In a big way.
“You should be!” I slap his ass, hard. His hand is on my wrist in a flash, and I’m imprisoned by his grip. He moves me closer to the building and cages me with his arms, his hot, wine-soaked breath sending intermittent chills and heat waves through me.
“That kind of play is private,” he murmurs as he drags his lips along my collarbone.
“You were happy to have us ogle topless strippers in public.”
“The only body I want to ogle topless is yours, Shannon.”
I make a noise that clearly indicates I don’t believe him.
“Think back,” he whispers, his lips skimming my skin at the hollow of my throat. “Was I drooling over them?”
I can’t quite breathe right any more, the chilly night air making my skin ripple with goose bumps, Declan’s seductive moves leaving me weak-willed.
“No,” I say. He’s right. He kept looking at me the entire time. “Why did you watch me watching them?”
“Because I wanted to please you.”
“You took me to a nightclub where there were more bare boobies than a La Leche League meeting to please me?”
“I thought you were into it.”
I pause. I unpause. “Let me understand this. If I have a sexual...taste, let’s say, you want to fulfill it.”
“Of course.”
“So if I wanted you to whip me—”
“Oh, God, anything but that. Please don’t turn me into a billionaire cliché.”
“—or wear a chipmunk suit—”
“A what?”
“—or play The Fireman and the Dalmatian—”