Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(89)

But bar after bar, no sight of Boon. And it wasn't much use asking the  bartenders; they were all either busy as hell or had no patience for my  admittedly vague description: tattoos, blue eyes, blonde hair. I might  as well have been asking for a girl with brown hair and pierced ears.         

     



 

Finally, the hour was up and I was disheartened and tired and hopeless.  It wasn't happening. Maybe it wasn't supposed to happen, I thought,  reminding myself that the whole plan was pretty crazy. Track down a  stranger I made out with once and ask him to take my virginity? That  really was Britney Spears-level crazy.

I clomped up to the hotel room and found Alicia and Becky were passed  out on the couch, an old TV show playing softly. I switched the TV off  and covered the girls in blankets before taking to my own bed. I lay  there for a long time, tossing and turning, thinking about Boon and  trying to figure out what it was about him that was so irresistible to  me.

At around 1am, I still hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and when my phone  buzzed I assumed it was one of my friends from home sending a drunk  text. My heart stopped entirely when I saw an unknown number on the  screen.

Tag, you're it, the text read. I nearly fell out of bed, I was so  excited. My heart started beating again with a vengeance, pounding in my  chest. There was a picture attached to the text: it looked like the  Vegas skyline, taken from above. I racked my brain to see if I could  recognize the angle or view from any of the little amount of sightseeing  we had done. Coming up blank, I pulled on my shorts and tank-top again,  grabbing my wallet as well, and slipped out the front door.

In the lobby, I marched right to the concierge desk. It was late, but  there were still lots of people milling around, and the concierge looked  bright-eyed and eager to help.

"Do you know where this could have been taken? Sorry, I know it's weird,  but … ." I started to say, handing my phone to the concierge, who took it  with interest. He adjusted his glasses and stared at the screen.

"There are no weird requests in Vegas," he said, smiling broadly and  handing me back the phone. "That photo would have to have been taken  from The Mix Lounge at Mandalay Bay. Shall I call you a cab, ma'am?"

"Yes! Please! Tell them to hurry!" I said, ecstatic. This had to be it.  It had to be him. He would be there. And at least I'd have a chance to  see him one more time, sober, before never seeing him again. I was being  impulsive, and probably acting recklessly, but I didn't care. If I saw  him and still felt that magnetic attraction, I would go for it. If I saw  him and it didn't do anything for me, so be it. I just wanted to do it,  take the risk, walk the tightrope without the net.

I pulled a ten from my wallet and handed it to the concierge as he  called a cab; he grinned at me and took it suavely, hanging up the  phone.

"Shouldn't be more than five minutes, ma'am," he said. "Would you like to have a seat while you wait?"

"No, no, I'll go outside, I don't think I could sit still," I said with a  giggle, my giddiness showing. The concierge smiled knowingly and  nodded.

"Best of luck, ma'am," he called out after me as I hustled outside. Once  on the sidewalk, I could hardly keep still. I wanted to pace back and  forth but realized that would look crazy. My mind raced with a million  thoughts as I waited. I wanted to text Boon back, but I also wanted to  take him by surprise. Part of me was horribly anxious that he would  leave before I managed to get there; the other part wanted to keep this  as mysterious and exciting as possible, and that anxiety was just adding  to the rush.

A cab pulled up and I nearly broke my ankle jumping to grab it.

"Are you the lady going to Mandalay Bay?" the driver asked gruffly.

"Yes, please, and fast!" I said, my voice cracking as my emotions ran  higher and higher. The cab pulled away and the driver began to make his  way down the strip, far too slowly for my addled mind but as fast as he  could possibly go in the traffic. I fidgeted as I looked out the window,  wondering if I could have walked it faster.

For the first time, I wondered if it wasn't Boon who'd texted me, after  all. Maybe it was the bartender from the bar, just getting off his  shift, planning to try his hand at wooing me. Or maybe it was someone  else, someone that the bartender had mistaken for Boon. Maybe it would  be Boon, but it would just be a joke. My nervousness grew as the cab  moved slowly down the long, brightly-lit street.

"Someone waiting for you?" the driver asked, pulling me out of my frenzied thoughts.

"I hope so," I said, smiling at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Well, if they leave before you get there, they'll surely be kicking  themselves for it," the driver said, pulling a sudden turn and slowing  down in front of a huge, lavish building.

I could give you every last detail of my trip through the lobby, to the  elevator, up to the bar. My nerves were so on edge that I think I  devoted every vase and painting to memory. But, of course, that wouldn't  be very interesting for you. Suffice to say, I was impressed, and I was  impressed that Boon would want to meet me there. It showed … class.         

     



 

Especially when I got to the Mix Lounge, which was a multi-colored  fantasyland, with views of the strip that dazzled the eye and gave you  pretty bad vertigo at the same time. It was dark, and I panicked for a  moment, worried about finding Boon in the crowd. But I needn't have  worried; as I began to slowly inch my way around the room, walking along  the windows, I felt someone tug on my shirt.

My palms immediately began to sweat as I turned. And there he was.  Handsome and dangerous and smiling. Dirty and cool and bright-eyed. I  saw his lips first, I think, and spent a long second remembering last  night's kiss, the memory turning my legs to Jell-o. My eyes traveled up  to meet his. It was still there. The uncontrollable, immediate,  surprising, animalistic craving that took me entirely by surprise.

"Hello," he said, his voice deep and warm. I melted.

"Hi," I managed to say, aware of a crimson blush lighting up my face.

"You found me. Drink?" I shook my head; I desperately wanted a drink,  something to take some of my anxiety away, but I also wanted to remain  in control, totally aware. I didn't want to make a mistake that could be  chalked up to alcohol. If I was going to make a mistake, I wanted it to  be entirely my own.

"Come," he said, grabbing my hand and leading me towards a darkened  corner where there were some empty seats. His grip on my hand was  strong, forceful, and I found myself pulled along like a rag doll. My  hand was wet from sweat and I was embarrassed, but I also thrilled at  the chance to feel his rough, calloused fingers against my own. I  imagined what they would feel like on my body, tracing my sides …

I could barely breathe when we sat down, and bit my lip. Boon took a long, slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine.

"So," he said at last, putting the drink down and looking at me critically, as though he were studying me. "How can I help you?"

I blushed even harder, and my brain skipped like a broken record. I  could barely process the question, never mind come up with an answer.

"Um … I just … I liked … I don't … I mean … I'm not … " I said, starting a hundred  sentences but not finishing a single one. I stopped trying, then, and  simple stared at him hopelessly. God, he's so fucking handsome, I  thought, my only coherent thought. He was grinning at me, his face  boyish and yet still mature, as though he had lived too much too young.

"Okay, okay, it's okay. I'll make it easy," he said, pulling two  keycards out of his back pocket. "These keys go to room 254. They are  going to stay right here on this table between us. In fifteen minutes, I  am going to take one of those keys and go to that room. Five minutes  after that, you are either going to join me, or you're going to leave.  How does that sound?"

I nodded, mute. He was calling the shots now. I was just along for the  ride. But he was giving me an out, too. And I appreciated that. A lot.

"You've never done anything like this before, have you?" he asked,  leaning back in his seat and picking up his drink again. I shook my head  no. He chuckled.

"Well, I admire you going after what you want. Gotta say, it's kind of a turn on," he said.

"How can you afford a room here?" I blurted out. I don't even know where  the question came from, it was just the first thing that popped into my  head. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Boon studied me, a  look on his face like he was trying to figure out whether or not to lie  to me.

"There are hundreds of ways to make money," he finally said, a tone in  his voice that told me that this wasn't a conversation he wanted to  continue. "It doesn't really matter."