that.
Maximo took his phone from the wide-eyed woman and pocketed it. “Thanks.”
She shot me a sly smile. “Lucky girl. Have fun, kids.”
As we walked through the busy casino, I spotted a display advertising their Cirque du Soleil show with naughty new acts. “Can we go see that?”
“No.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his hand resting above my breast, his fingertips teasing the sensitive skin. “But we can go home and create our own version.”
That sounded better anyway.
After a stop at the Hershey’s store for a chocolate covered strawberry, we headed outside.
“I used to think the Strip was only a couple blocks of cramped hotels,” I shared as I devoured my treat.
“What’d you think when you saw it for the first time?”
“I hated it.” I shrugged. “None of my experiences here have been good.”
“We’ll change that.”
We already are.
Maximo wiped a smudge of chocolate from my bottom lip. “What do you want to see next?”
I took a moment before giving him the only answer I had. “Everything.”
So we did. Fine, it may not have been literally everything because there was only so much we could do in one day. But we did a lot, including seeing the shark reef at Mandalay Bay and getting an up-close and terrifying visit with the flamingos, angry swans, and turtles at the Flamingo.
Once dinnertime hit, we stopped to eat in the promenade outside The Linq. I doubled up on my hot dog consumption—that time with the addition of fries.
“Are you having fun?” Maximo asked just as I stuffed my California dog into my mouth.
Chewing the delicious and semi-healthy goodness, I nodded emphatically. I swallowed and wiped my face before saying, “Minus the swans.” I gave an exaggerated shudder. “I thought they were supposed to be elegant and graceful, not aggressive assholes.”
“They’re violent to protect their mate.” His lips curved up on one side. “I can relate.”
His admittance he’d be violent for me shouldn’t make me happy.
Yet it does.
I took a needed drink and asked, “What about you? Are you having fun?”
Lifting his chin, he admitted, “More than I expected to. I’ve lived here my whole life but never bothered to do the touristy shit.”
“Even when you were a kid?”
I tried to picture him as a child, but it was impossible. All I saw was a somber mini-adult or a brooding bad-boy teen—and something told me that wasn’t far off.
He shrugged. “You’re not the only one who used to hate the Strip.”
“Why?” I asked, wanting to know more about him.
“Long story,” he evaded, and I didn’t push.
Sometimes—probably most times—the past belonged in the past. Heaven knew I didn’t want to delve into my history.
I took another bite, half the toppings spilling out the other side of the bun.
“I’ll grab a fork,” Maximo said, already standing.
“And napkins.”
And maybe a bib.
Watching Maximo move through the crowds, it didn’t matter he wasn’t at one of his properties. People still responded to his air of authority, his size, and the dangerous vibe that emanated off him. I could do without the way some women stopped to stare, but since he didn’t so much as glance at them, it was whatever.
He was hot. It would be impossible not to notice.
Reaching for a fry, I stopped short and froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and a chill slithered down my spine. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched.
Inconspicuously, I glanced over my shoulder, but nothing stood out.
I’d had the sensation off and on all day. Maximo’s whole BDE-king-of-the-world thing attracted a lot of attention. As did his frequent PDA that went beyond affection and bordered on obscene.
We probably made for good people watching.
The feeling faded and another scan of the area confirmed nothing amiss, so I went back to what mattered.
Food.
After dinner—and a quick stop for a cupcake covered in sprinkles—Maximo asked, “Now that you tackled the coaster, are we going on the High Roller?”
The deliciousness I’d devoured churned like cement in my stomach at the thought of stepping onto the giant Ferris wheel.
Reading my expression, he chuckled. “Didn’t think so.”
He curled an arm around me as we continued down the street to ride the gondolas before visiting Bauman Rare Books. I hardly breathed as I scanned shelves of old, insanely expensive books.
When I finally dragged myself away from the treasures, we backtracked down the Strip.
With the sun setting, the nightlife came alive and transformed Vegas from family friendly-ish to Sin City. The warm air was wired with excitement and depravity. People were ready to