Page 62 of Timeless
“We don’t have to go. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“It’s their night.” Besides, the last thing I wanted was for anyone to cater to me.
“Yes, but this—this is something completely different from what was initially planned.”
“I’m aware.”
“Jameson and his freaking lack of filter,” he murmured under his breath. “I wished he’d think before he spoke sometimes. Though I don’t know why I’m surprised, his wild side fits right in with this city.”
“Afraid he’ll bring you over to the dark side?”
“No, I’m just trying to be respectful, that’s all.”
“We’re in Vegas.” I reached for his hands, which were fisted at his sides. “Let’s just go with the flow and see where the night takes us. I’m open to anything.”
“Anything?” His gaze turned to molten lava.
“Yes.”
“I like this side of you,” he whispered low for only me to hear, sounding like a man who was about to ruin me.
“Like?”
“Correction, I fucking love this side of you: playful, adventurous, trusting.”
“Only because you’re here with me.”
His fingers slid to the back of my neck, tilting my head, drawing me into a kiss that left no space between us.
Chapter Eighteen
Lily
It was obvious that both Cameron and Jenna had connections because things just seemed to fall into place for them, and quickly. First, the tattoo artist came to the penthouse, and now, not even thirty minutes after Jameson suggested it, our group exited a limo and made our way past velvet ropes and into an ultra-exclusive club.
Once inside, we were given private lockers for our belongings, including our phones, before entering a dark space pulsing with sultry music and a thick, seductive air. The space was dim, the ambience passionate and alluring, lit only by wall sconces, tea lights on tabletops, and warm LED lights along the floor and bar.
I hadn’t known exactly what to expect from an adults-only club—but it definitely wasn’tthis. I’d clearly had an image in my head from books I’d read. The kind where a man who was a dominant paid an obscene amount of money to live out his fantasies in an ultra-private club, the kind only billionaires could afford memberships to.
You know the kind.
The ones where you’ve stepped off the street into an unassuming building that suddenly turned into a hedonistic, gone wild playground. Pulsing with energy, and half-naked, if not fully naked, people bestowing pleasure while on their knees or straddling partners, as onlookers sat back sipping whiskey as if it were just another casual weeknight. While newcomers weren’t sure whether to look or not, they couldn’t turn away or help but be turned on by the proclivities and the awareness that they didn’t care who saw them; they were too lost in their own rhapsody to care.
Instead, the scene unfolding around me was surprisingly tame in comparison.
Elegant, even.
Couples clustered in cozy embraces, talking low, laughing softly, and some swaying to the music over on the dance floor. In other areas, small groups of women and men mingled casually, sipping drinks and exchanging glances.
If there was a darker element to the place, it had to be hiding behind the arched alcoves framed with thick burgundy-colored velvet curtains and golden tasseled tie-backs that Cameron and Jenna, hand in hand, led us past as we moved along the side of the dance floor toward the back corner and up a set of stairs into a roped off area with a view of the club pulsating below.
Each couple settled into oversized chairs made for two, arranged in a semi-circle around a low, round black-and-white marble table. Sitting on its surface were two bottles of champagne, chilling in silver canisters. While between them lay an artfully arranged charcuterie board with an array of fruits, nuts, thinly sliced cured meats, wedges of cheese, crackers, and chocolate squares.
Jameson busied himself uncorking the champagne while a female server with a sleek, pulled-back black ponytail, wearing a sleeveless white button-up tucked into black, fitted shorts that were provocative yet surprisingly tasteful, presented Cameron with a bottle of Macallan whiskey.
I crossed my legs and relaxed as Jaxon’s hand rested on my knee. The privacy of the alcove, the soft flicker of the candlelight sconces and candles, was a slow-burning backdrop to something implied, pulling us closer without a single word. My body buzzed from the alcohol that had eased my worries, silenced my fears of being in such a public place, and allowed me to lower my walls and tap into this new, alluring side of temptation.
An irresistible, seductive energy swirled in the air, not from the music pulsing through my veins, but fromus. The carnal tension between Jaxon and me was magnetic and impossible to ignore.
