Page 53 of Keep Vegas

“I know. I remember. But since your hair is exposed and your—”

“Nope. Do not name your favorite body part.” I pull my hair up into a top knot.

“Come on. It will be fun. I’ll name the feature and you uncover it.” He waggles his eyebrows.

God, this man gets me wet, and I love seeing his face. “And you’ll do the same?”

“Yeah, we can call it StripTime. It’s a fun FaceTime game all the kids are playing.” I laugh and end up snorting a little. “Adore that little snort.” I shift in my seat, and he leans back on what appears to be a headboard.

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like 4:00 p.m. Are you napping?”

He grins, and I realize why he wanted to call me while in bed. What the hell are we doing?

“I don’t think I’m ready for FaceTime orgasms. Get out of bed. Right now.”

He pulls his phone back a little, and he’s shirtless. How the hell does he look better now than he did? Jesus. I’m getting thirst trapped. Help! This is not something I can handle. Being in bed with him in LA was the ultimate, but we didn’t do anything but be with each other. I cannot combine the phone sex with that face. I won’t survive, I’ll spontaneously combust.

“Mak. I’m comfortable. I don’t have to work today and I’m relaxing.”

“Do it in the kitchen.”

“You want to do it in the kitchen? I’m game. I can certainly clear my schedule to bend you over a countertop.”

My eyes bug out of my head. We’ve masturbated, but I need to not do this with the salad duo like fifteen feet away. And it’s not like I can tell him I live with my parents in a retirement village in Henderson, Nevada without it all splitting open. He deserves to hear all of this in person.

Unfortunately, every part of me is aflame, thinking of bending me to his will or over any surface. Not only has it been ages since someone bent me over something, but I also almost always think of Tony when I orgasm. No matter who’s in the room.

I’d slept with six people before him and three times as many since, but he’s the gold cock standard.

“Go to the kitchen, grab a shirt. I want to watch you cook. Something not sexy.”

“You think this is sexy?”

He runs his hands up those abs. All of them. I glare at him.

“We are not doing this. And on second thought, don’t cook because that’s sexy too.”

He sits up, and I’m left staring at the ceiling. Then his face reappears, looking down at the phone. He’s grinning and has a t-shirt on, thank God.

“Maybe not today, but we are doing this. Mak. My Makenzie, don’t be silly, this has to happen.”

His head suddenly jerks to the left, as if someone called his name. Oh God. He’s not alone. Ugh. What am I doing? I have to get ready for my shift. I don’t have time to flirt with billionaires full of empty promises and a chest I could literally curl up on and live.

“Mak. I have to go.”

Wait, what? No explanation and he went from cute to dismissive.

“Ok. But—”

He hangs up. I’m a bit hollow and confused. I stand and pace around my room. I call him back. He sends me to voicemail. I text.

MAK: Hey. Did you lose service or did I just get stood up?

MAK: Tony? WTH?