I debated about calling Olivia back, but there was too much to discuss and I didn't know when Brad would be getting back. I also wasn't ready for her questions. I didn’t know how I felt about Brad. Half the time he pissed me off with his arrogance and sexual misdoings, the other half of the time I wanted to shove him down and rip his clothes off. I was used to being the aggressor, to being in control of the relationship. That wasn’t going to be a possibility with Brad. But then again, a relationship wasn’t a possibility anyway.
Having only had sex with two guys, the prospect of Brad being the third scared me. What did it say about me if I had sex with someone that I didn't even like, much less love? What had been the point of me waiting until I was 19 for sex if I was just going to jump in bed with strangers now? I dusted nude shadow on my eyelids and then reached for the bronze. I couldn't resist the incredible attraction I felt for Brad. I wasn't naive enough to think that this animal attraction was something just the two of us shared. I could see the look in every passing woman, in every waitress, room attendant, and grandma that walked by. I remembered this morning's orgasm, and a twinge of pleasure zipped through my lower body. I wanted, even needed to have sex with him. I couldn't remember ever wanting to have sex with anyone; unless it was to show my love and to preserve a relationship. Sex with Brad would be different, dangerous, passionate, and….and… I didn't know what to do. I blinked and looked in the mirror, examining my eyes. They looked good. Adult, sophisticated, and sexy. I leaned forward to apply a second coat of mascara. I was just about ready.
I was in a lace bra and panties, had slipped on some heels for the hell of it, and was spritzing on perfume when Brad walked in. His eyes widen slightly, and he walked into the bathroom and leaned against the door, whistling under his breath. He must have come up and changed at some point during the day. He now wore a white button-up shirt with dress pants and a jacket. "Not the outfit I would have expected for dinner, but you look mighty fine Ms. Campbell." I sashayed over and placed both hands on his lapel, pulling him gently to me and kissing him on the lips.
"Very funny smartass. I'll be dressed in a minute."
"I'll watch." He grinned wickedly. "Want a glass of wine? I can grab some out of the wine cooler."
He stayed in his position, arms crossed, and watched me as I went into the walk-in closet and shut the door. Becca had blessed me with three different dresses - all ridiculously short and sparkly. According to Becca, EVERYONE in Vegas glittered. From what I had seen so far, she was right. I grabbed a nude strapless minidress that sparkled when the light hit it. I paired it with my highest stilettos and rubbed some lotion on my legs. Fluffing my hair, I prepared to make my grand entrance to Brad. Swinging open the doors dramatically, I put on my sexiest scowl and walked out. To an empty bathroom. My inner goddess rolled her eyes at me.
Shaky on the plush carpet in my ridiculously high heels, I made it to the living room without turning an ankle and sat in the first chair that I came to. Brad whistled at my wobbly entrance and let his eyes linger on my legs, tanned and freshly shaved. I pretended to glare at him. I had worked pretty damn hard to look this hot and was glad it was getting the proper attention. He walked to my chair and leaned over me, placing his hands on the armrests on either side of me. His scent invaded me and I got wet just from smelling it. It and his beautiful face and those dark, sexy eyes with their thick lashes. He nudged my legs apart with one knee and moved it in a bit, his rough jeans against my smooth skin. His mouth so close to mine, he brushed my lips sweetly and then moved his mouth to my ear. "I want to f**k you in that dress."
I inhaled sharply, his knee moving further in between mine. Fuck dinner and the damn show. I wanted him right now, right here in this suede leather chair. I leaned my head back and he nuzzled, nipped, then kissed my neck. "You smell good," he said. I smiled.
"Want to skip dinner?"
He froze, then pulled back with an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? A man's gotta eat. Plus," he moved his hands from the armrests to my waist and lifted me to my feet like I weighed nothing, "you'll need fuel for tonight's activities." He nuzzled my neck again and squeezed my ass. Hard. I loved it.
"What, the Cirque show?" I pasted an innocent look on my face.
"Get your ass out the door," he growled, smacking me.
We arrived at Prime a few minutes before seven. Brad stopped just outside of the restaurant, reaching into his pocket to answer his cell. I wandered to the side, seeing a balcony with a view of the lake. Just then I heard something. A few soft, haunting notes. Brad tapped my shoulder and I turned. "Out," he whispered, the phone still pressed to his ear. "On the balcony. Watch the fountains." I made my way to the balcony and leaned on the heavy marble railing, the water starting to move in front of me. The music began again, softly and then increasing in volume until every note was clear and beautiful. The fountains increased with the music, swelling and falling, thousands of different jets under the lake creating a beautiful dance that made my heart ache. I stood there, transfixed and swept away by the perfect harmony. As the last note lingered on the lake, I became aware of Brad's presence behind me.
Touched by the display, I turned and hugged him, holding him tight and feeling his strength. He smoothed my hair and looked out on the lake. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I nodded and backed away from him. He turned and offered his arm to me. "Shall we eat?" I beamed and nodded, accepting his arm as gracefully as I could. "Yes we shall." And Cinderella arrived at the Ball.
Prime was incredible. Decorated in navy, cream, and silk - it was elegance to the ninth degree. The restaurant was located right on the lake, and our seats were in a private alcove with a full-length window showing the view in full excellence. Brad began by ordering a thousand dollar bottle of Dom, which was delivered to our table before the waiter even finished his initial speech. I took a sip timidly. It was the first restaurant other than Centaur that I'd ever been to that had more than 3 utensils. The nervousness from last night returned. Brad sat across from me in his suit, playing with a fork and looking devastatingly handsome.
The first food brought to our table was a seafood tower. It was four towers of white meat, almost four feet tall. Crystal clear ice chips with colossal shrimp, oysters, clams, crab legs, and lobster stacked its silver shelves. The minute it landed on our table, brought by two black-clad waiters, Brad rubbed his hands together in glee and pounced on it. The white china plates set in front of us were both filled by Brad, him plucking succulent items from each level and stacking both my plate and his full. I waved him off but he ignored me, piling my plate high. I stared, aghast, at my plate.