Page 47 of It Happened in Vegas

My skin vibrated as his hands gripped my hips and pulled me flush against the hard heat of his body. Every part of mepressed to every part of him. His arousal pulsed against my stomach. I’d never felt so exposed, so wanted, and so ready for spontaneous combustion with a man.

No more pretending. No more rules. No pillow wall.

Just us.

He lifted me and set me on the desk in the room. He kissed me like a man who had every intention of undoing me, tongue sweeping past my lips, claiming and coaxing at once. We were on a complete free for all and I didn’t care if I crashed—if he was the one I landed on.

My fingers fumbled at his buttons, hungry to feel him—his skin, his heat, his strength. A guttural sound escaped low in his throat when I pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

“Finally, your tattoos. I’ve want to run my hands along them all weekend each time you were shirtless.” My fingertips traced the outline of each one. God, his skin heated like a furnace. Every inch of him formed solidly, like he’d been carrying beer kegs all year, preparing for the pleasure of only me, only for tonight.

He gathered my hands in his. “Since the first day at Hops,” he confessed, jaw brushing the back of them as he spoke, “I’ve dreamed of this.”

My stomach knotted. “First day?”

“The moment I saw you behind my desk, I wanted to take you on it. Wasn’t exactly something I could admit to you at that point.”

“Not to the snooty new marketing specialist?” I teased.

“You would probably have gone running to Richard, begging to be free of this job and me.”

I bit my lip, tilting my chin up. “Exactly how much have you been thinking of me?”

He grinned, wicked and slow. “Let me show you now.”

He leaned in, his mouth closing over my neck, just beneath my ear. I gasped at the sharp jolt of pleasure, my knees weak. My brain short-circuited with the way his tongue moved against my skin, the scrape of soft beard against my collarbone, the way he growled my name like he was already halfway gone.

His hands skimmed up my stalkings and under my hem, gathering my dress at my waist.

He pulled back just enough to look at my black lace there with flushed skin, eyes wide.

“Garter belt and stockings? Classic. Sexy. Jesus, Soph, you’re a damn wet dream.”

His words tripped my pulse. My heart thundered like it wanted out of my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at me with smoldering eyes like that.

Like I washis. Like I was more than just a fun fling or a good time. Like I was the storm and the calm that came after.

I leaned into him, craving him, at risk of losing myself for him. “Keaton…”

His fingers ghosted over the edge of my panties, knuckles running along them. I arched into him, needing more, every nerve ending screaming for him to touch me, claim me, take me.

“Tell me you want me,” his hoarse voice commanded.

"I want you, Keaton. I’ve wanted you longer than you’ll ever know.”

He hesitated. “I told you my moment. Tell me yours.”

I bit my lip, worried about admitting everything to him. Weighing the pros and cons of it. Ultimately, what’s the harm? So I went from a crazy fan to being in his arms. I landed here with him now, that’s all that mattered. I hoped.

“Well, basically, from the first Brewed for Love show, I’ve admired you. Like your millions of raving fans, I was glued to the TV, hoping that you’d win. Even started a fan page about you on social media, gaining thousands of followers fast. Sowhen I met you in person I knew right away who you were. When I visited your brewery with Maisy and we flirted, I couldn’t believe how you seemed interested in me. I pitched Richard, never knowing if anything would come of it. And when I got the job, it was all I could do to keep things professional and friendly with you, and not let it get to my head or heart that I was spending time with Keaton Kingston.” I ended chewing my cheek, watching him absorb all of this.

He leaned his knuckles on his desk and squinted eyes at me. “So you’ve been stalking me?”

“What? No. I wouldn’t call it that. N-not exactly. More like I’m your biggest fan? A hobby? Oh God. I do sound like a stalker.” I attempted to push off the desk, but he held me in place with a wicked laugh and grin. “I’m no better than that jerk who stalked me long ago.”

“Relax, Sophie. I’m flattered. I’ve never had a stalker.” He slyly smiled, laughing more.

“Do you know how hard it has been all these weeks to hide my fan girl away so I wouldn’t gush all over you?”

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