3. Sam

sam

. . .

Irummage through my drawers to find pyjamas for us, grabbing a "read banned books" top and flannel pyjama bottoms. After I've changed into my own comfortable clothes, I take her the set I picked out and return to the living room, setting them on the sofa.

Isla is grasping for a book on the shelf that's out of reach, with her dress riding up the back of her thighs enough that I nearly see her arse. I can't help coming up behind her to assist. As I approach, she looks over her shoulder, smiling and, thankfully, not catching me admiring her incredible body.

"Sorry, I've been meaning to read this one," she breathes, and the urge to touch her is almost too much.

I retrieve the thick novel, my hand covering hers, and I bring it down. Being this close to her, I get a hint of her intoxicating shampoo or perfume—something floral or herbal, maybe lavender.

I don't step away, bracing my other hand on the shelf behind her. "One of my favourites."

She turns to face me, back pressed against the shelves, and I hand her the book; though, it's mostly sandwiched between us. "Thanks."

Her eyes dart between mine, and it takes everything in me to keep from kissing her. I brush off the thought; I actually like this girl and don't want to move too fast. Though I hardly know her, she's easily the most beautiful woman I've ever met, on top of her wit and finding her reading a smutty book at a casino bar… She's too perfect to be real.

We stand there for a moment, stuck in some sort of trance that neither of us can wake from. I throw all caution to the wind and lean in, desperate to taste her lips, only making it an inch before her phone rings with "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush.

Isla shuts her eyes tight and winces. "Sorry." She hands me the book, and I step back to allow her space to retrieve her phone. After a few swipes and taps, she laughs. "It's just my friend, making sure I'm all right." She types something in response, and after setting her phone back in her handbag, she picks up the pyjamas. "Mind if I get changed?"

I shake my head once. "Not at all."

She shuffles off to the other room to dress. As soon as she's out of sight, I quickly take a survey of my living space, tidying up a few coffee cups I left out and placing them in the sink. My employee badge is sitting on the kitchen counter; I stuff it into a drawer. Based on her response when she discovered I work at the casino, I don't want to trigger any additional questions. Performing half-naked in front of hundreds of people isn't how I want her to see me tonight, even though I'm not ashamed of what I do.

A few minutes later, she meanders out of the room, and I'm left speechless seeing her in my clothes. Immediately, a vision of this woman spending her nights here flashes before my eyes, and I struggle to ignore how much I like the idea of having her here for more than tonight. She's tied her hair into a messy bun, removed her makeup, and is still just as beautiful as when I met her at the bar.

"Fuck," I breathe, then stammer to correct myself, "I, uh, I mean…"

Isla looks down, pulling the shirt out to the sides as if to ensure nothing is amiss. "That bad? Should've stuck with the dress." A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she lifts her gaze to me.

I rub my hand over my face to ensure I'm not about to wake up from this dream. "No, absolutely not." She's fucking stunning, and I'm still in shock that she's actually here, though I'm scared to admit it aloud and risk her disappearing from existence.

She adjusts her glasses and returns to my bookcase, scanning the shelves. "I know better than to ask what your favourite book is, but what about the top five in your collection?"

"I still couldn't narrow that down. Maybe by category? There are too many amazing books I've read to ever choose only five. It also depends on my mood." I join her at the bookcase as her fingers brush the spines. "See any you've read?"

"A few. What would you recommend I read tonight?"

"Don't you have a limousine scene to return to?" I tease, unable to hide my smile.

Her eyes light up, and she rushes to her bag. "Shit, I almost forgot!" Pulling out the ereader, she turns it on and taps it a few times. "Mind if I…?"

"Why would I?" I laugh. "Make yourself comfortable." Pulling out a soft blanket from the linen closet, I set it next to her. "Water, tea, or gin?"

She thinks for a moment, chewing on her lip. "Surprise me." Her eyes widen. "Wait, no. What am I doing? Sealed bottled water, please."

I offer my hand. "Come on." She takes it, and I lead her into the kitchen. "What do you really want?"

"You… I, uh… I mean, you're a gracious host. I'll just have water."

I know I didn't imagine it; I fucking heard it. She said, "you." I'm used to women throwing themselves at me while I'm performing, but there's no connection, let alone things in common with them. No one I've wanted as much as her. Isla? She's fucking stunning and appears to read as much as I do. Could she actually want to be with me? Not just because of a performance? I can't rush this, or I might risk losing my shot with her.

"Tea or gin?"

"Honestly, I'd love another gin and tonic, if you have everything on hand."

I pull out a bottle of gin from the cupboard and two small cans of tonic from the fridge. I set them in front of Isla and retrieve two glasses, filling them with ice. "Lime?"

"Sure." She smothers a smile and asks, "What's the catch?"

"Catch?" I pour gin into both glasses. "I'm sorry, I'm not following."

"You. What's the catch?"

Cracking open the cans, I fill the glasses. "The catch for what?"

She takes a lime out of the fruit basket and hands it to me. "Never mind."

"No, what?" I pull out a knife and slice two wedges, squeezing them into the drinks. She doesn't answer, so I change the subject. "You're a smart woman to not accept a drink from a stranger." I raise my glass and take a few long drinks from it.

She lifts hers in a toast, takes a sip, and teases, "Guess both of us are getting drugged tonight."

I nearly spit out the gin. "I suppose my plan has been foiled, as your friend suggested." Setting down my drink, I add, "I'm going to grab my ereader from the bedroom. Go sit and relax, I'll be back in a minute."

As I step around her, she grabs my hand and sighs. "I'm sorry, I just… I don't know what's happening here. I don't go home with random men, especially ones like you."

"Ones like me?"

"Yeah," she laughs nervously, "ones like you."

"Am I being friend-zoned already?"

"Do you want to be friend-zoned?"

Her eyebrow lifts, and I stifle a laugh. Squeezing her hand, I reply, "In no world would I ever want to be only friends with you."

"I haven't had sex in over a year," she blurts out. Eyes wide, her hand flies to her mouth. "You didn't hear that."

A groan escapes me at the thought that this intriguing woman hasn't been touched by anyone in a year or longer. I'm envious of the last man but desperate to be her next. "You're fucking lying. You? There's absolutely no way."

"I'm not lying. So, I… I don't know what you expect tonight. The invitation to spend time with you away from the bar and the strip was too good to pass up. I'm just"—she takes a deep breath—"I don't want to unload the baggage, but I haven't had sex in at least eighteen months. So if that's what you want…"

I bring our joined hands to my lips, kissing the back of her hand, and she offers a small, lopsided smile. "I didn't invite you here for a shag, Isla. Though, any man would be a fucking idiot to say no if that's what you wanted. Whatever you want to do tonight, I'm all yours."

Shit, this is escalating quickly…

But truly, I don't fucking care.

"Are you sure? I don't want to waste your time. I can grab a ride?—"

"Isla." I close the distance, sliding my free hand across her jaw to the nape of her neck, tangling my fingers in her hair as my thumb rests on her cheek. "You are not a waste of time." She draws her lips into her mouth for a moment, my eyes falling to them. "Please, stay."

Lifting onto her toes a little too quickly, her nose crushes mine in her rushed attempt to kiss me. She steps back, rubbing hers, laughing, "See? Fuck! This is so embarrassing."

"Come back here." I snake my hand around her waist and pull her to me by her lower back. Tucking her hair behind her ear, I lean in and press a single kiss to her cheek and whisper, "We're going to try that again, even if it takes forty more tries for me to properly kiss you."

I pull back, her eyes fixated on mine. I can't wait another moment and kiss her, though I proceed with caution. She's nervous, tight-lipped, her body rigid against mine. I don't want to push for more, but she relaxes and opens for me. My tongue sweeps across hers, and as she moans into my mouth I nearly lose my resolve to wrap her legs around me and make love to this goddess all night. Her hands slide up my chest, cupping behind my neck and…

Shit, I'm fucking hard from a kiss.

"Thirty-nine to go?" she asks against my lips, and I can't help but laugh.

When we finally break apart, I reply, "Minimum. Practise makes perfect." I brush the pad of my thumb to her bottom lip before chastely kissing her.

"Thirty-eight."

I can't seem to wipe the smile off my face. "That one doesn't count. You have your book to get to, and I need to find out why my favourite character was killed off in a battle. But I intend to make the next one count."

I lead her back to the sofa and bring the gin and tonics over before making my way to the bedroom to retrieve my device. That woman doesn't need practise by any stretch of the imagination, but I'd happily taste any inch of her that she'll afford me.