Buy Me(4)

I turned twenty dollars into twelve thousand that night and was offered a room at the casino. I knew enough to know that I’d raised some flags, so I stopped and took my winnings up to my room. I had enough to last me a while, and at that moment I just needed a little peace.

When I went to bed that night, I cried until I couldn’t shed another tear. I never let anyone see.

“Missus…?”

“Oh, honey, I’m far too young to be called a missus. You can call me Peaches.”

The older man across the table from me blushes, and I give him a wink. He seems harmless, but I’m not taking any chances. I stick to my rules. Be polite, be charming, be their fantasy, but don’t let them touch you.

I sit back in my chair, waiting for the dealer, and it’s then I feel it. His eyes are on me.

I know before I turn around, those Sinatra-like baby blues are going to be waiting on me. And yet I can’t stop myself from doing it.

When I lock eyes with his, everything inside me is set on fire. On the outside, I’m calm and cool. But on the inside, there’s a raging inferno that wrecks my body with need.

My eyes roam down his suit and back up to his eyes again. He looks like George Clooney standing there with his salt and pepper hair, hands in his pockets, and that half smile of his. He’s old enough to be my father, but nothing about him strikes me as paternal.

Biting my lips is the only way to keep the moan from leaving my lips. This is bad. This is very, very bad.





Chapter Three





Don




The dealer says something to her, drawing her eyes away from mine and back to him. I clench my jaw at the loss, at the thought of someone else pulling her attention away from me. When she looked at me, I didn’t see surprise in her eyes. I thought I’d always been good at fading into the background and not getting too close to her. But the look in her eyes felt like she’d seen me before. Maybe she actually had seen me that day she walked right past me without giving me a second look.

Or maybe she’s done her research on the hotel she’s staying in. Probably the latter.

I don’t wait to see if she turns to look at me again. I don’t want to see her give me one of those fake smiles she so easily gives out. It’s strange not having someone’s undivided attention. I’ve been in Vegas my whole life, worked my way to the top. Everyone who is anybody here knows who I am. There isn’t anyone in this city with a little power who doesn’t owe me a favor for one reason or another.

Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to her. She’s not someone who would give in so easily. I’ll have to chase her. She’ll make me work to have her. I know it’s going to be a fight, and I’m going to enjoy every bit of it. It’s been years since I’ve had to fight for anything, really work for something. Now everything just seems to drop into my lap.

Placing my hands on the back of the vacant chair behind her, I watch as the dealer’s eyes go big before he stumbles over my name. I don’t play on the casino floor like I used to. I’d spend hours on the casino floor when I was younger, wanting my hands in everything, but I’ve learned to delegate now. It also doesn’t hold the same appeal anymore. It all started to taste the same. The excitement was gone. Empty. I had no one to share it with.

“Look at you. Making the poor man stumble right over his words. Normally that’s the effect I have on men.” Her southern twang rolls over me. I’ve heard it before, but being this close to her while hearing it is more intoxicating than I thought it would be. I wonder what it would sound like filled with desire. The things I could get her to moan and say for me…

I look down at her, forgetting about the dealer’s greeting. She does that to me a lot. Makes me forget about everything and everyone. She has a half smirk on her face, revealing the slightest trace of a dimple in her creamy porcelain skin. I have the urge to reach out and run my finger across it to see if she’s as soft as she looks. But I have the feeling she doesn’t like to be touched unless she invites it, and if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she’d be the first to let me know if she wanted me to touch her.

“Cat got your tongue?” she says, raising one of her perfect eyebrows and reminding me I’ve yet to say a word. I’m lost in my thoughts of her once again. Her smile grows even bigger, and I can see she likes that she thinks she’s got the best of me. Maybe she has, but I don’t care.

“Doesn’t seem to be the only thing that’s gotten me.” She has this wholesome look to her in her sundress with a little jacket on. One might think my blunt comment would make her blush, but I know it won’t.