to prove my point. No way will Web be able to keep holding hands with a guy in such a public place for any significant span of time.
Sure enough, we’ve only made it past two hotels when he lets go of my hand and digs in his back pocket for his phone. Reading the screen, he murmurs, “The others are wondering where we are.”
“I guess if you tell them you’re off to see a drag show it’d raise some eyebrows,” I say with a chuckle.
Web scoffs. “No, it wouldn’t. I’ve seen plenty of drag shows. They’d be more alarmed about the two of us hanging out together, I think.”
And with that, he shoves his phone back in his pocket and threads his fingers through mine again, causing me to almost trip over my own feet in surprise.
Okay, what exactly is going on right now? I’m supposed to be having fun at Web’s expense, but for some reason it feels like he’s just taken the upper hand. I need to work much harder on getting it back.
As we amble past the Venetian, I’m struck with a brilliant idea that’s guaranteed to put me back in the driver’s seat. Grinning broadly, I tug on Web’s hand and pull him toward the canal. “Come on, sweetie pie. Let’s go for a romantic gondola ride.”
Web plants his feet firmly in the ground, his expression blank. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Moving in close to him, I reach out and rub my hands slowly over his torso—Damn, those are some hard chest muscles—offering an innocent smile. “What, too gay for you, Webster?”
“Too lame for me,” he corrects, his voice coming out a little hoarse. And is it my imagination, or do his eyes look a little heated right now? Interesting. “But,” he continues after letting out a slow breath, “if that’s what my guy wants, that’s what my guy gets.” And he pries my hand from his chest, taking it in his as he leads us toward the gondolas.
What the hell?
So, once again I had him on the ropes and he just goes and turns the tables on me. This is going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought, but I’ll get him to admit defeat eventually.
“First time in Vegas?” the gondolier asks in a thick Italian accent as Web and I settle in the boat’s loveseat and he starts paddling down the canal.
“Yeah,” Web replies. “Just for the weekend.”
“That’s right.” I smile brightly as I throw an arm around Web, pulling him in closer. “It’s our anniversary.”
“Ah, bellissimo,” the gondolier cries, touching a hand to his heart. I’m having trouble figuring out if he’s genuinely Italian or just an actor playing the role up for the tourists.
As we continue along the canal, our gondolier—Alfredo—points out various features of the Venetian hotel and tells us a little about Vegas, before breaking into what sounds like an incredibly sad Italian love song. Of course, I don’t speak Italian, so for all I know it could be all sunshine and roses.
“So, what’s next on your list, sweetie pie?” Web murmurs in my ear as we approach one of the little bridges that stretch over the Venetian canal. “Assless chaps? Cage dancing? Or should I just fuck you and put an end to this bullshit once and for all?”
I jerk in surprise that he’d even make the suggestion; I can’t see his face right now because we’re under the shadow of the bridge, but it’s hard to imagine he’s actually serious. And I’m definitely not going to let him wrong-foot me.
“Sorry, but I don’t catch,” I say with a little shrug.
I feel his breath tickle my ear as he moves even closer to me, whispering, “Even better.”
Oh my god, no. I cannot be getting hard right now. Not because of Web, of all people. I swallow hard, giving a quick shake of my head. “Don’t try to tempt me, Webster.”
“Don’t try to pretend you’re not tempted,” he murmurs.
I have no idea how my hand ends up on his thigh, or how his fingers find their way into my hair, or how our lips somehow become fused together. It’s all a little blurry and frantic and probably the hottest kiss I’ve had since…well, ever.
But, luckily, I manage to jumpstart the rational part of my brain and break the kiss.
“Marriage,” I spit out.
“Huh?”
“The next thing on my list,” I clarify, offering a teasing smile. “We’re in Vegas. Let’s get married. Or would that be…problematic for you?”
Web