My inner sense of self-preservation tells me to let it go.

Wish her an enjoyable time tonight.

Play it casually.

Instead, I write, Why don’t I take both you ladies out for dinner? Then we’ll take in a show or something.

I hit send, and then curse, “Fuck.”

“Something wrong?” August asks me from across the table.

I shake my head. “Just something I need to take care of,” I tell him with a casual smile. Then I nod to the model. “But you have my approval to go forward.”

August nods at me, then turns back to Carina, who is still talking to the architect with animated hands. She’s the detail person in our three-way partnership. She’ll hone in on and iron out the nitty-gritty shit that August and I overlook.

My phone dings, and I look down. That’s awesome. What time and how should we dress? I mean… you know… where are we going to dinner? Fancy? Casual? So excited.

And then she put a little heart emoji on the end.

I grit my teeth and write back without any sense of self-preservation anymore. Fancy, expensive restaurant. High-dollar cocktails. Put your dancing shoes on.

God, what am I turning into?

“I got to say, Walsh,” Elena yells as she puts her arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “You sure know how to treat the women in your life well.”

I smirk down at her as we wait for Jorie to come back from the restroom. We had a three-hour dinner at the best restaurant in Vegas, and then I suggested a nightclub where we could drink and dance. Except, dancing’s not really my thing, but I sure didn’t mind watching Jorie shake her ass out there with Elena.

“Women?” I yell back at her because the music’s shaking the building.

She gives it right back to me just as loud. “You know… as her best friend, I’m your woman, too.”

“In the platonic sense, right?”

“God, yes,” she says back in horror. “I mean, I’m the bestie. You get me along for the ride. You hurt her, I destroy you. You buy her Tiffany’s, you buy me Tiffany’s. See?”

“Got it,” I tell her with an amused shake of my head.

The music turns slow, and Elena wags her finger in my face. “No, no, no. I may be the other woman in your life, but you can’t slow dance with me. There are some lines I won’t cross.”

I roll my eyes at her, and then sweep my gaze across the club looking for Jorie. Suddenly, I feel her hands on my hips as she presses into me from behind. I look over my shoulder at her, and she slides around to stand in front of me.

“You about ready to go?” she asks. “It’s getting late.”

I respond by taking her hand and leading her out onto the dance floor. It’s practically empty because no one comes to a Vegas nightclub to slow dance, but I don’t give a fuck. I feel like swaying to cheesy music with the hottest woman I’ve ever been with.

The girl in my life I’ve known longer than any other.

Jorie’s smile is soft and her eyes are sparkling with the champagne she drank earlier as I pull her to me. I bring her hand in close to my chest and wrap the other around her back. She presses her face into my neck, and I fucking love the feel of her breath on my skin.

“This is weird,” she murmurs.

“Why’s that?” I ask with a smile playing on my lips.

“You being all romantic.”

I snicker. “I can be romantic.”

“Yes,” she deadpans and then mimics me. “That’s it, baby, come for me harder. Or, take my cock down your throat, baby, and I’ll give you multiples after.”

I reach down and pinch her ass hard. Her pelvis flies into mine as she yelps.

“I do not talk like that all the time,” I admonish her. “And besides, you like my dirty talk.”

I can feel her sigh into my body, and she admits softly. “I really do. I love dirty Walsh.”

My step falters slightly at her casual drop of the “L” word, but her tone was teasing enough that I don’t take it for anything more than her profession that she’s got a kinky side like me.

“You had enough dancing tonight?” I ask.

“Yes, and I’m horny,” she says petulantly. My hand goes down to palm her ass, pressing her in tighter so she can feel I’m horny, too. “Want to go fuck in the bathroom?”

This time, I do stumble. When I regain our rhythm, I pull my head back to look down at her. “I’ve created a monster.”

“You didn’t create it,” she says with a wink. “You just released it.”

“Well, as fun as fucking you in the bathroom sounds, I’m thinking tonight I just want you on my mattress, on your back with your feet pressed into my shoulders and my hand over your mouth,” I tell her.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett The Wicked Horse Vegas Billionaire Romance