Page 144 of Vegas Heat

“Oh, God. You’re busy. I’ll let you go.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” I hear more rustling, and then his voice gets a little louder. “What’s going on?”

“We just haven’t talked in a few days so I was calling to see if you want to hang out.”

He clears his throat, and then I hear a door click shut. “I have someone over,” he says, and this time he is definitely whispering.

“Who?” I whisper back.

“Fucking Brian! He’s interested and he totally made the first move. We were just kissing a little and it was maybe going to heat up to another level and then my phone rang.”

Brian? Brian…like intern Brian?

“Oh my God, why did you answer?” I screech.

“He told me to!”

“Get back in there! We’ll talk tomorrow!”

He laughs. “Okay, okay. Bye!”

“Good luck!” I yell at him, but the call has already dropped.

I wander around the house by myself a while as I suddenly feel really lonely. Mia’s been acting strange, and Justin doesn’t even know I’m back together with Cooper. I haven’t talked to Chelsea, Kelly, or Becky since my birthday party a month ago.Between getting caught up with Cooper and school starting at the same time as my internship, it’s been a busy month.

It’s times like these I wish I lived on campus. There’s always someone around to talk to, somewhere to go, something to do.

Instead I’m dating a thirty-three-year-old who’s hanging out at a strip club thousands of miles away while I’m sitting in my dad’s mansion by myself.

I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s after midnight in Boston, and I haven’t heard from Cooper all day. I decide to send a text.

Me:Hope you’re having fun with the strippers.

God dammit. I regret it the second I hit send, but I can’t change it now.

I don’t hear back from him, which only tells me he’s having a blast with the strippers.

I really need to get a hobby because sitting here sending passive aggressive texts can’t be healthy.

My phone rings an hour after I sent the text, and it’s him calling.

“Hi,” I answer.

“I told you once not to play games.” His voice is low and gravelly, a little demanding, and it’s freaking hot.

“I’m not playing games. I really did hope you were having fun looking at boobs. Maybe some vaginas, too.”

He barks out a laugh. “Have you ever even been to a strip club?”

“No,” I admit.

“They don’t show cunts, babe.”

Something about hearing what feels like the dirtiest dirty word out of his mouth presses a wild ache between my thighs.

“Well, that’s comforting,” I mutter.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get in touch all day. And I’m sorry I went to the club.” His words have just the slightest edgeof a slur to them. “I had to sneak out of the room just to call you. Your father rented some suite so we could all stay together.”