his bed. But if she changed her mind at the last minute or got cold feet, he wasn’t going to force her. He’d never forced any woman, and he wasn’t going to start with Elena Sanchez.
Of course, she didn’t know that. As far as she was concerned, flying to Las Vegas constituted her first act as his mistress, and he planned to go with that for as long as he could, hoping everything worked out just as he’d been fantasizing since she’d walked into—and out of—his office.
“Relax, Elena.” He touched her arm with his free hand and rubbed the bare flesh with the side of his thumb. “We have the whole week to get to know each other better. And I promise not to jump your bones until after we’ve checked into the hotel.”
Three
The short flight to Nevada was comfortable in first class, and quite uneventful. Chase kept his word, barely touching her the entire time and keeping their conversation to benign, unimportant topics.
But that didn’t keep the nerves from skittering up and down her spine. In fact, the closer they got to the hotel, the worse her anxiety became.
He’d said he wouldn’t “jump her” until after they arrived at the hotel. Did that mean the minute they hit the lobby? Would he accost her in the elevator, or as soon as they were inside the room?
She knew she was being irrational. In all the time she’d spent with Chase so far, she hadn’t seen him do anything the least bit impulsive. For some reason, she simply couldn’t picture him being so overcome with lust that he’d corner her in the hallway or participate in some passionate public display of affection. He was entirely too somber, too controlled.
Not that any of that kept her mind from wandering down a dozen confusing, carnal alleyways. Her body felt like a tightly strung bow, waiting for the moment he would touch her, kiss her, demand she fulfill their bargain between the sheets.
And she cursed herself for the anticipation building like a tornado at her center. For wanting him to do just that when she should be despising him for forcing her into an unacceptable situation.
A spacious black town car met them at the airport and took them directly to their hotel. The Wynn was one of the luxury hotels directly on The Strip, with marble floors, chandeliers and lots of gold and dark, polished wood. There was a casino off to the side, but it was obvious this particular establishment was meant for wealthier visitors to the city, rather than those who might come in for a weekend of fun and debauchery.
Little did the owners of the hotel know that their rich patrons could be just as interested in debauchery as those with limited funds; they were simply better at hiding their true intentions.
A bellman dressed in a maroon uniform trimmed with gold accompanied Chase and Elena to their suite. He opened the door, ushered them inside, then transferred their luggage from the wheeled cart to the bedroom.
The suite was made up of a large sitting area, a kitchenette, bathroom, and through a wide double doorway, the bedroom and a second, more private bath.
Elena had grown up with money and stayed in her fair share of luxury hotels, but even she found the opulence of this particular suite to be somewhat overwhelming.
A king-size bed filled the center of the bedroom, surrounded by ornately carved dressers and a wall of mirrors that hid the long closet space. The bathroom had a shower stall and a separate, deep Jacuzzi, both big enough, she thought, to hold three or four people.
She was standing in the doorway, admiring the almost spa-quality equipment, when Chase came up behind her and whispered in her ear.
“We have more than an hour before we need to be downstairs for dinner. Would you like to take a nap, or unpack, or…something else?”
Although he wasn’t touching her at all, his voice poured over her like warm honey, his hinted suggestion sending off fireworks low in her belly. Her breathing grew choppy and she had to blink several times to stave off the sudden bout of lightheadedness that assailed her.
She wasn’t ready. Not yet. She knew the moment would come when she couldn’t put it off any longer, but for now he’d given her other options, and she grabbed at them like a drowning victim reaching for a life raft.
“I think we should unpack,” she said a bit too loudly and a bit too brightly, spinning on her heel and slipping past him before he could protest or—worse—try to stop her.
Not waiting for a reply, she hurried to where their bags had been left and hoisted her suitcase onto the mattress. There was a luggage rack off to the side, but she decided that if the bed was covered with clothes and such, it couldn’t be used for…other things.
Without a word, Chase joined her and they unpacked in silence, filling the drawers and closets, and cluttering the counter around the bathroom sinks.
When they were finished, Chase suggested they start getting ready for dinner and politely left her alone to change. She hurried with her hair and makeup, and shrugged into one of the half dozen cocktail dresses she’d brought along, knowing Chase would need time in the bedroom and bathroom to get ready himself.
Stepping into the sitting area, she found Chase standing at the bank of tall windows, staring out at the bright lights and bustling activity that made up the heart of Sin City. Though the thick, lush carpeting absorbed the sound of her footsteps, he seemed to sense her presence and turned as she rounded the end of the floral-patterned sofa.
His eyes softened when he saw her, and a gentle smile curved his lips as he skimmed her appearance, from the upswept knot of hair that left her neck and shoulders visible, to the strapless royal blue dress with its lace overlay that hugged her every curve and left her legs seductively bare. She shifted slightly and toyed with the sapphire pendant at her throat, uncomfortable with his thorough perusal.
He strode forward, taking his time and keeping his gaze firmly locked with her own.
“Nice,” he murmured as he passed, careful to leave just enough space between their bodies that her skin prickled in awareness, but they never actually touched.
“I won’t be long,” he added before disappearing into the bedroom and closing the connecting door behind him.
Dinner, Elena was relieved to admit, passed much more enjoyably and with a lot less stress than expected. Chase had introduced her to his business associates by name, with no further explanation, rather than referring to her as his girlfriend or mistress or some other label she’d been concerned he might use. And though she’d made small talk with the other women at the table, she mostly remained silent and allowed Chase to conduct his business.
He even asked her to dance at one point, and held her close while the orchestra played a slow, romantic song. After a couple glasses of wine and the lulling atmosphere seeping into her bones, she let herself lean against the strong wall of his chest and absorb the heat of his fingers where they rested at the small of her back.
She hadn’t forgotten their agreement or her reason for being here—both to help her father and become Chase’s lover—but since the outcome of her decision was inevitable, she started to relax and live for the moment rather than obsess over what might come next.
They said goodnight to the others and made their way through the lobby to the bank of elevators, their footsteps slow, her arm wrapped around his and their hips brushing.
