She’s petting my chest with heavy-lidded eyes.
Is she sleepy? Or does that look mean she wants me too?
Either one suggests it’s time to go. “Wanna get out of here?” I ask, trying to keep any innuendo from my voice just in case I’m reading it wrong.
Fiona nods, which is no help. I take her hand and lead her to the bar. “I thought we were going?”
“I’m still thirsty,” I tell her and ask the bartender for another bottle of champagne to go.
Chapter Seven
Fiona
Therewasamomentwhen we were dancing when I thought Mase was about to kiss me.
And I think I would have let him.
But as we leave the soul-shaking volume of Bubbles, Mase chugs from the bottle of champagne, putting some distance between us.
There’s still a line-up to get in, and the streetlights make it as bright as early evening rather than the early hours of the morning. The sidewalks are still full of people and we’re not the only ones who carry a bottle.
It’s late; I’m exhausted and I’m sure Bexley will want a text when I get back, but going back to the hotel is the least thing I want to do.
Because I think Mase wanted to kiss me and if we call it a night it’s never going to happen. Ever. Again. Because I’m Fiona Stark and he’s Mase Stirling and it’s just not going to happen. I slow my steps, not only to prolong the night but because now that I’m off the dance floor, I realize how much my feet hurt.
“You okay?” Mase asks as I pause to lean against the side of the building.
“My feet hurt,” I moan, resisting the urge to take off my shoes. Walking barefoot around the streets of Las Vegas isn’t a good idea regardless of the ache in my arches.
Mase leans over to peer at my feet. “You need new shoes,” he decides.
“I like these shoes.” I wore my favourite ballet flats rather than heels, but since the flats are basically slippers with a bit of tread, I felt every inch of the concrete dance floor.
“I want to buy you shoes.”
I look at Mase with disbelief. “You’re not buying me shoes.”
“But I can. I can buy youallthe shoes.”
“You don’t have to buy me shoes. Or anything.”
“I want to. I really, really want to because you’ve been very nice and you introduced me to Slammers, and I like them almost as much as I like you.” He smiles, and the sight of the dimple on high alert does something to my insides.
It really shouldn’t do anything to anywhere, but it does.
“Let’s go find something that’s open.” He grabs my hand and hauls me away from the wall, and I laugh. It’s after four o’clock in the morning, I’m with Mase Stirling on the streets of Las Vegas, and he wants to buy me shoes.
I kind of thought he wanted to take me back to his hotel room but this could be fun too.
Not as much fun, but sure. Fun.
But it’s better since I hadn’t decided on what to do if he suggested we take this somewhere more private. Kissing is one thing, but anything further would need a conversation.
Am I attracted to Mase? Yes, because I have eyes and female body parts. Those black pants alone are worth a third and fourth look, and when I touched his chest…
And when he had his hand on my hip…
Boen would be proud of the chemistry between me and Mase. Would he approve of Mase, since he’s Grayson’s best friend, and a billionaire to boot? Things like that work out in books, but my life is not a romance novel, not even a rom-com. My life is real so I know someone like Mase Stirling—as cute and fun and sweet as he is—and I will never work out.