Every time she looked at him, she went a bit more breathless. He was gorgeous, but she didn’t feel this way with every gorgeous guy she met. It was him. He rolled up like a quiet storm, all cool and collected, but inside, barely leashed power filled him. Kata wanted to be the one to undo all that.
“I came here for you. I’m nothing but game, honey,” Hunter drawled.
“Then . . . I guess we should go to the bedroom.”
“Damn straight!” Ben rose to his feet, stumbled.
Hunter caught and steadied him, while gesturing down the hall. Ben lurched, walking unsteadily forward. Still, he managed to bounce from one wall to the other like a pinball on the boards. She watched, biting her lip.
Hunter approached her, his hot palm at the small of her back. “Second thoughts?”
“No. I’m worried about Ben.”
He gripped her shoulder, squeezed. “It’ll all work out. C’mon.”
She nodded, figuring she was wasting time worrying about what might happen. Right now, she had two hotties willing to fulfill her fantasy. Why worry about anything?
Exhaling away her tension, Kata sauntered toward the bedroom, anticipation simmering inside her. And not just from the fantasy itself. She was familiar with Ben; they’d fallen into a twice weekly routine, so she knew exactly what to expect from him. But Hunter . . .
She cast a glance at him, and her breathing hitched. He sent her a slow smile that dripped sex. Kata looked forward to him. He’d likely drive her insane with the sort of pleasure she’d only ever imagined. She couldn’t wait.
“If you move that pretty ass faster,” Hunter drawled, “I’ll get my mouth on your pu**y faster.”
Her stomach flipped over, and their gazes connected. Her breath caught. Oh, holy shit. He meant that.
She nearly ran the rest of the way to the bedroom.
Inside, against the backdrop of glittering Vegas night sky, Ben was already shedding his clothes, shirt half unbuttoned, one shoe on, the other off. The fly of his jeans and his eyes were both partially open.
After she drew shut the heavy hotel drapes along the south side of the room, Hunter took her cue and closed those along the east wall, shrouding the room in almost total darkness. Which brought her a measure of comfort. As a plus-sized girl, she liked her curves, but if her lover didn’t, she didn’t want to know. She preferred to leave the lights off. Ben had never minded.
Hunter flipped on the bedside lamp, and a white glow encircled the bedroom’s huge king-sized bed. She hesitated, then crossed the room and switched it off, leaving them in shadow. “I’d feel better . . .”
Even in the semidarkness, she sensed his displeasure. Kata found herself regretting that. Why should she care what he thought? He’d be gone by morning. And she’d always been determined to please no one but herself. The minute a guy showed any sign of trying to pull controlling macho bullshit, she got out quick. Hunter hadn’t said a word, but somehow, she knew that he wanted to see her exposed to his gaze. Vulnerable. The thought terrified and aroused her at once.
“Kata, I need help,” Ben called.
Relieved to have something else to focus on, she dashed to his side, helping him off with his other shoe. “You really tied one on tonight.”
“Aw, don’ be pissed off. The guys challenged me, and—”
“And you weren’t smart enough to turn them down, even when you knew you’d win? Seriously, Ben.”
“So I’m a dipshit.” Pulling off his shirt, he sent her a lopsided grin.
Kata couldn’t help but smile. Even drunk, he was self-deprecating and funny. And true-blue. Impossible to hate, even if he wasn’t showing his good side tonight.
“You are. You’d better not ruin my birthday.”
“Hey, didn’ I bring you someone?” He gestured vaguely in Hunter’s direction as he pushed his jeans around his ankles. “He’s done this before. And the girls who worked the bars near the RTC where we went to boot usta ooh and aah about him. I brought you the best. Happy birt’day.”
Hunter had experienced a ménage before? Her gaze zipped across the room to him. What little she could see of Hunter’s expression neither confirmed nor denied Ben’s claim . . . but she didn’t imagine for an instant that he’d been a choirboy.
So “yes” was a safe assumption.
His experience should have made her feel better. He’d know what to do, how to minimize any awkwardness and maximize the pleasure. But instead of feeling relief, the truth irritated her. Of course she wasn’t special to him. He hardly knew her.
But logical or not, she wanted to be special. Or maybe she simply wanted the event to be special. Yeah, that made more sense.