Falling Free: What happens in Vegas... (The Fall Series) Read Free Page B

more.
    “Why did you come here?” His
voice was gentle yet I sensed the tension lurking beneath his calm demeanor.
    Reeling with anxiety I carefully
considered my reply. What did he expect me to say? Why DID I come here? I
told myself I was here to save The Grand—and I was…mostly. But there was
something more that I didn’t want to admit. Not even to myself. I wanted more
of HIM. I wanted more of the person I became when I was with him.  Just more. But
I wasn’t about to let him know.
    I had to think fast, not like Lo
the girl from Michigan, but like one of his high priced Vegas escorts. What
would she say? Long before I arrived, my stubborn pride decided that I
would behave like the prostitute he hired me to be, and staying true to my role,
I made a move that shocked both of us. I turned toward him, my breasts brushing
his bare chest and said, “To make you happy, Mr. Blackwell.” Anger tempered
with need simmered just below the surface of my thinly veiled smile.
    He cocked his head inquisitively,
obviously caught off guard by my unprovoked sarcasm, but I couldn’t read his
expression as he studied my face. Just as I was feeling satisfied for throwing
him off his game, his eyes grew dark, and his jaw muscles tensed. My heart pounded
out a frantic rhythm against his chest, giving away my insecurity, but I wasn’t
about to back down. I stood confidently against him waiting for him to make the
next move. He’s a professional poker player, Lo! He reads people for a
living, and right now he’s reading you like a book!
    “Well, then you can start right
now. Turn around.” As he spoke he grabbed my shoulders and turned me away from
him. “And please, call me Parker,” he growled as he expertly unzipped my dress
with one swift tug.
    An unnerving jolt of adrenaline blazed
through me as I realized my plan had backfired. He was raising the anti and had
turned the tables on me so effortlessly that I stood frozen by the impact. I
heard his footsteps walking away, then the sound of him settling into the
chaise lounge directly across the large open room. My heart was racing. I expected
him to get angry. I expected him to ask me what was wrong so I could get angry
right back. I never considered what I would do if he actually called my bluff.
The bastard was playing along!
    “Bend over and place your drink
on the floor slowly. Then take off your dress.”
    “As you wish, Mr. Blackwell,” I
responded through gritted teeth before squatting down toward my three inch
stilettos with shaky knees.
    “No! Bend over.” Now there was both
anger and urgency in his voice, and my body responded as if by instinct to his
primal demand. I stood up straight, and slowly, delicately bent forward curving
my back until I felt my drink touch the floor and my dress slide up just over
the curve of my cheeks exposing me to him. Bastard! Nothing but a thin
line of silk shielded the very center of me from his sight.
    “Now the dress.” His tone was increasingly
more demanding.
    I stood up languidly, hooking my
thumbs into the top of my dress and began to ease it down.
    “That’s right. Slowly,” he
warned.
     I inched the fabric down,
stopping just below my breasts to see if it pleased him. Fucking bastard! Why
was he torturing me? How did he make me so hot when I was mad as hell at him? When
he didn’t respond, I continued easing it down my body until it was around my
ankles then kicked it aside without hesitation.
    “The rest please,” came his sharp
reply, and this time I heard his body weight shift against the leather chair.
    Standing naked in front of the
enormous windows for all of Las Vegas to see while Parker examined me from
behind was unnerving. With a million winged things fluttering in my stomach, I
unfastened my bra letting it fall to the floor and began sliding my panties
down before carefully stepping out of them one stiletto at a time. I bit my lip
when I nearly stumbled and felt tears sting my eyes. A confusing mix