Page 3 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
After a fortifying breath, I tipped my head back and let the sweet liquid roll straight down my throat, burning all the way to my belly. I grimaced but managed to repeat the process with the other three shots.
“I didn’t even have to dare you that time. You’re relaxing, Emmy.” Nick grinned, leading me away from the bar and to our VIP section seats.
I sank into a moderately cushioned, straight-backed chair, then leaned over to whisper in Nick’s ear. “No judgment if you are, maybe I’ve been misreading things between us, but is this your way of telling me that you’re gay?”
He threw his head back and laughed into the air above us. His laugh was amazing. Rich. Deep. Honest.
And long.
He kept at it until the show started and his sound was masked by the thumping music and the audience’s catcalls. When he finally stopped laughing, he turned and placed both hands on my jaw. His large hands framed my face completely.
I stared at his mouth, waiting to see what he was going to say, but instead of speaking, he licked his lips, sending tingles straight to my center. Then his mouth came crashing down on mine, his soft lips taking over, coaxing my mouth open so he could dip his tongue inside for a taste.
Before I could kiss him back, he pulled back an inch.
“Does that answer your question?” His hands were still framing my face but I managed a nod. He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose before turning back to the stage.
I stared, unblinking, at his profile, only seeing the show peripherally. A half-naked man had just stripped off his shirt and was parading around in a fireman’s hat and baggy pants.
I barely heard the screams when the stripper started unbuttoning his pants. The beat of my own heart and the rush of blood in my ears were deafening. I was in shock. The way Nick’s lips had moved on mine and the gentle caress of his tongue had been like no other kiss I’d ever had.
So preoccupied, I jumped when a hand landed on the back of my chair. I turned to see what was happening a millisecond before a man’s arm pulled me from my seat and out of the VIP section.
“Have fun!” Nick called before I was whisked up on stage by a stripper dressed as a police officer.
“No way!” I shouted, pulling away from the fake cop. My feet were pointed toward the exit, but I didn’t get two steps into my escape before the nearly naked fireman and the now-shirtless police officer pushed me down into a chair, center stage.
I sat, mortified, as both of them started shaking their manly bits in my face and dry humping my legs. The laughter and the shouts from the audience rang loudly in my ears as my face turned violently red. And above all of the female noise was Nick’s booming male laugh.
Squinting through the bright stage lights, I searched for him in the audience. I lost sight when a third stripper joined the show, this one dressed in a cowboy hat and brown briefs printed with horseshoes.
Nick had been right. I had needed those four shots.
After an eternity, I was released from that torturous chair but I didn’t go back to Nick. I marched straight to the now-deserted bar, where I promptly ordered another two shots.
“You did good, Emmy,” Nick said when he reached my side. “But I think that’s enough crazy for a while. Feel like gambling?”
“If that means we get to leave here, then absolutely, yes.”
He bent down and placed a short, sweet kiss on my forehead. “Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, we walked out of my first and, hopefully, only male strip show to continue our Vegas adventure.
The desert night air had cooled but it was still warm enough that walking in my little black dress was comfortable. I’d bought this dress special for the trip, hoping it would be sexy enough that I wouldn’t look like a librarian compared to Steffie’s wardrobe of slinky dresses and midriff-baring halter tops. It had capped sleeves and a plunging neckline that framed what little cleavage I had. Its short a
nd tight fit gave my petite frame the illusion of curves.
Most of the men around us were dressed in full suits. Just the type of men my father would have expected to see me walking with. If he saw me now, strolling along with Nick, his face would give me that look of disapproval I was all too familiar with.
Nick was dressed in a solid black T-shirt that was strung tightly across his broad chest. When he crossed his arms, it cinched around his large biceps, displaying all the contours of his chiseled frame. He wore a pair of faded jeans that sat perfectly on his hips and muscled thighs. Not to mention the wondrous things they did for his ass.
He looked better than any of the suit-clad men we passed.
Wanting to know more about my handsome new acquaintance, I asked, “Where do you live?”
“Colorado.”
“Oh.” I frowned. Colorado and Connecticut were on opposite sides of the country.
