Seduce Me - J. Kenner Page 0,5

sex in her inbox.

“Knowing you,” I retort, “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Okay, that’s fair. If I scroll back I’m sure I can find some truly stellar sexts. But Ryan promised he’d send me something to keep him on my mind, and so far pffft. Nothing.”

She flops back in the seat and pouts—or at least pretends to. I’m feeling a bit pouty myself, because I was certain that once Jamie planted the sexting seed in Damien’s head he would jump all over that but my inbox is likewise sexless. Of course, sexting is like sloppy seconds compared to Damien’s truly incredible phone sex skills. But that’s not something I want to experience with Jamie in the limo with me. We’re close. But we’re not that close.

Truthfully, I’m not surprised that Damien hasn’t checked in. His schedule was jam-packed today, what with zipping all over the West Coast. And right about now, I know he has a meeting with his assistant Sylvia. They have a conference call with a friend of Damien’s at the Pentagon about buying Santa Cortez, a military-owned island off the California coast.

Most likely he’s on that call right now, immersed in details and negotiations. It’s really not the time for me to be bothering him.

Of course, I do anyway.

Just arrived in Sin City. Feeling deliciously sinful. Who knows where that will lead…

I hesitate only a second and then press send.

A moment later, my phone buzzes with a reply.

I’m intrigued. Take pictures.

I text back: ???

I don’t have to wait too long for his explanation.

If you’re naughty without me, I want to know exactly what I’ll be punishing you for later.

Oh.

I think of some of the very delicious ways that Damien might punish me and decide that a few selfies during this weekend jaunt will be well worth the trouble.

And no underwear. When I think of you, I want to think of you bare.

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. My soon-to-be-abandoned panties, however, are damp. I tap out a quick, Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.

Good girl. Meeting starting. Soon, Mrs. Stark. Until then, imagine me, touching you.

I smile, then tap my final reply: I always do.

When I look up, Jamie has her chin propped on her palm and is watching me.

“What?” I demand.

She just shakes her head. “You guys are so good together.”

“Aren’t you and Ryan?”

A wide grin lights her face. I’m girl-next-door pretty, with my blond hair and curves, but Jamie is movie star gorgeous. And when she smiles, it’s a wonder that Hollywood producers don’t drop from the skies and sign her to projects.

The smile she flashes now with Ryan on her mind is one of the most radiant I’ve ever seen. “Yeah,” she says. “We are. Isn’t that just the coolest thing?”

Considering Jamie’s crappy track record with men, I have to agree that it is. And I am truly, genuinely happy for both of them.

“This is where we really got together,” Jamie says, nodding out the window at the Starfire Resort and Casino, which we are approaching. “I mean, we fooled around in Malibu after your wedding, but it wasn’t until Vegas that things really heated up.” Her grin is wide and a little sappy. “So I really, really love this hotel.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.”

Although the Starfire is a Stark International property, I’ve only been a couple of times, and then on very short stays. The fact is, Damien owns so many properties in so many places that I could visit one every day for the rest of my life and still probably not hit all of them.

It’s a little daunting when I think about it. Which is why I usually don’t think about it.

Edward turns off the Strip and into the drive, which circles a magnificent fountain that shoots jets of colored water into the sky to the delight of a crowd of people gathered around its edge.

We roll to a stop under the portico, and it’s clear that although this limo has no identifying marks, the staff knows who we are. I’m treated like a queen, Jamie like a princess, and we are whisked through the lobby and down one of the long, tiled hallways to a set of elevators that access the penthouse suites.

Jamie and I are chatting as we walk, debating whether we want to go out for dinner or just have drinks in the bar and then go back up for room service. I pause, reaching out for Jamie’s elbow.

“Did you see—?”

“What?”

But I shake my