Page 73 of All Bets Are Off

I stare back at her, confused by the smile she wears and the dark look in her eyes, and I hate that I can’t comprehend what it all means. I’m not sure what she needs from me right now. Am I supposed to take her smile at face value? Am I supposed to push for more?

I obviously spend too long debating it, because she taps the rim of my glass in my hand and says, “Drink up!”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck in a breath and finish off my martini all at once simply to get rid of it. We settle the check, grab our purses, and head for the casino floor with our arms interlocked. It’s such a relief our friendship is solid and intact, but there’s still something tense about Addy. An uneasy look in her eyes, her smile artificial. Something that worries me.

30

Evelyn

I don’t dare gamble at the casino, because I know I’ve already experienced enough luck to last a lifetime, and there’s no way I’ll hit it that big ever again. So I sip on the free vodka sodas, mindlessly twirl my stool back and forth, and snicker at the guys’ misfortune as they endure a sickening losing streak on blackjack.

When I spot Addy and Hailey crossing the casino toward us, I’m relieved to finally have some female backup. They’re walking arm in arm with easy expressions, giving me the impression that their chat about Theo went well. It had to. There’s no chance in hell Adelaide would ever let anything ruin their friendship, and Hailey and Theo are cute together. That kiss in front of the Las Vegas sign was adorable. Who knew Theo was such a romantic?

“Still friends?” I ask the girls.

“Always,” Addy says, flashing Hailey a smile.

They unlink arms at this point, and Hailey gravitates toward Theo while Addy slips into the empty stool next to Liam. They’re both enjoying their weekend with the men in their life, and I . . . Well, I have a seriously hot man upstairs. What am I doing down here on my own?

I’d rather be with Jameson, and in more ways than one.

I knock back the last of my vodka soda, clink the glass down on the edge of the blackjack table, and hop off my stool. “I’ll be back,” I tell no one in particular, given not one single person is paying attention to my departure.

A jolt of electricity shoots up my spine as I ride the elevator up to Jameson’s floor. I like the damn guy, and I’ll probably never see him ever again after tonight, and I don’t want to leave Vegas with any regrets. I thought the only regret I’d have would be if I gave myself to him too easily—but what if the thing I regret most is not being with him when I had the chance?

I stride down the corridor to his door, full of confidence and courage. There’s no nerves, no doubts. Since the moment I left his room earlier, I’ve missed him.

I want him.

Knocking on the door, I hold my breath and wait. There’s every possibility he’s on the phone and my interruption will not be appreciated, but if I don’t make my move now, I might not have another chance. I can’t survive the rest of the day feeling this feral for him.

The door opens.

“Hello again, Jameson,” I say.

Jameson’s wearing some white linen pants with a baby-blue shirt and if I wasn’t already planning on seducing him, then I absolutely would be now. He seems pleased to see me, because he leans against the doorframe and smirks. “Yes, Evie?”

“You’re not on a call right now, are you?”

“No, I’m not on a call right now.”

“Good.”

Reaching out for a fistful of his shirt, I close the gap between us and crash my lips to his. We stumble backward into the room as the door clicks shut behind us. Jameson’s hands are around my waist, pulling my body to his, and I’m clawing at his shirt, desperate for it to end up on the floor. I kiss him hard and fervently, making my intentions clear. Even salaciously bite his lip as I tear my mouth from his.

“I’ve decided something,” I say, breathing heavily as I work my hands down his shirt, undoing all of the buttons. “I’d really like you to fuck me before the weekend is over, but there are two conditions.” I push the shirt off his shoulders and reach for the button of his pants. “One: A condom is a non-negotiable so if you don’t have one you better run to Walgreens before I undress you further. Two: No oral. Ever. I don’t like it. Giving nor receiving. Three”—I tug down his zipper and glance up at him from beneath my lashes—“you better be worth it.”

“Funny,” Jameson says, cupping my face in his hands, “those are my three conditions, too.”

His mouth finds mine again, his tongue working in wonderful, sexy ways. Bodies pressed together, he guides me backward until my back hits the wall and he rakes his hands over the curve of my waist and down to my ass. It’s so fucking clumsy and hot, like we’re so caught up in the moment we can’t even think straight. I’m grabbing his hair, his forearms, anything, everything. I feel the hot, thick swell of his dick against my stomach.

Jameson wraps a hand around my throat with just enough pressure to hold me in place against the wall. His lips trail hungrily down my neck and I shudder with anticipation as his hand travels up the soft skin of my thigh, disappearing into my mini skirt. My breaths turn shallow as he touches me over the lace of my underwear first, and then he moves my thong to one side, his fingers pressing against my clit. With a whimper of satisfaction, I tilt my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

“Evelyn,” Jameson says, commanding my attention. He touches me with the expertise of a guy who’s definitely too old for me. “You like that, don’t you?”

I nod in response, his hand still against my throat.

“Tell me,” he orders, and the seductive heat of his breath dances across my face.