Page 18 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

I sighed, trapped and frustrated by a situation I couldn’t possibly begin to explain.

“Well, I’m not ,” I said.

We stopped outside the penthouse suite. I reached into my bag for my keycard. Dakota stood closely behind me, his knuckles grazing the sides of my arms, setting my nerves on pins and needles.

“Good,” he said, his breath warm on my neck. “Then he won’t be waiting for us in there with a knife.”

“Right?” I snickered.

But deep down, I panicked.

Crap—Leo—what if he’s home?

I swiped my keycard, my heart racing as the door opened.

Dakota walked in and whistled. “Damn. You got this whole place to yourself?”

“Yeah, um, it’s a welcome home gift from my dad.” I excused myself to take a quick look around the rest of the suite—and let out a breath of relief when I confirmed Leo wasn’t home.

I found Dakota where I’d left him, his brow furrowed as he poked around the living room.

“Should we have some wine?” I asked, feeling a lot more at ease now that I knew we were alone.

“Sure …” he said, seeming both distant and preoccupied as he followed me into the kitchen.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Sorry, I’m just having my mind blown over here.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just realized this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this suite,” he said, his grin spreading.

“It’s nice, right? My only complaint is the wine rack is way too high.” I pointed at the bottle of Tuscan red I wanted. I needed a step ladder to reach that high, but Dakota simply walked up to it and effortlessly nabbed it for me. “Thank you!”

“No prob.”

“So do you stay here often?” I asked.

“No. I didn’t stay here. My teammates, Brock and Connor, stayed here,” he said, chuckling at the memory. “It’s kind of a funny story, actually, if you’d like to hear it.”

“I’d love to hear it!” I said as I set out two wine glasses.

Dakota began uncorking the bottle of wine while he told me a story from the Vegas Sin’s very first year.

During the summer, the team aggressively pursued the league’s two top free agents, Brock Benning and Connor Deadmarsh.

Brock and Connor were teammates who were seeking “a package deal,” meaning they wanted to sign on the same team so they could keep playing together.

“Aw, cute!” I said.

“We were a total long shot at signing those guys, because we were a completely new team and everyone expected us to be horrifically bad,” he explained as he poured two glasses of wine.

“So the team really had to roll out the red carpet for them. Your dad flew them here on his private jet so they could see the city. And he put them up in this very same suite, which is how I know about it.”

“And so, is that what convinced them to sign here? Staying in this suite?”

“Not quite.” He chuckled. “See, that’s where the story starts to get a little crazy.”

We moved to the couch. Dakota sat next to me, his eyes locking on mine as our glasses met with a crystal ding.

Dakota leaned closer, his big hand finding its way to my knee, and continued his story. I loved listening to him talk—the gentle rumble of his voice comforted me, and I couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his pretty mouth.

But my jaw dropped in astonishment when he revealed the big twist: during their stay in this very same penthouse, Brock and Connor both fell in love with Coach Miller’s daughter, Sofia.

“Wait—they both fell in love with her?” I asked, my eyes wide.

“Yep. And she fell in love with them, too.”

“What?!”

“She couldn’t choose between them, so … she chose both.” He grinned plainly, as if this were a tale as old as time. “And that’s how we got Brock and Connor to play for us. Wild, right?”

“Um! Excuse me, what?! ” I felt a rush of excitement, and a burst of scandalous laughter escaped me. “She chose both? What do you mean?”

Beaming, he seemed to revel in my delight. “Well, I mean, she’s in a committed relationship with both players.”

“So … they share her?”

“Yup.”

“And they’re still friends to this day?” I asked, my intrigue growing.

“They’re super close. The three of them live in the same house and everything.”

I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think they … do it?”

He nodded, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“No, I mean—” I stammered, not knowing how to say it. “The three of them—?”

“I know what you meant, Ottavia,” he said with a wink. “And the answer is, oh hell yeah.”

He was so ridiculous! No one could make me laugh like him.

I erupted into a fit of whole-body laughter that led to me toppling over and falling against Dakota’s chest. My head rested on his solid pecs, and my hand found its way to the chiseled contours of his abdomen.

He gently held me while the last of the giggles worked their way through my system, softly stroking my hair.

When the laughter stopped, I realized I was in the most comfortable place in the world. The pleasant scent of his cologne mingled with the warmth of his body—an intoxicating combination, indeed. I wished I could stay there forever—but I had to pick myself up before I did something.

“That’s wild,” I said, lifting myself. “But good for Brock, Connor, and Sofia. I really, truly hope they’re happy.”

“They are, yeah.”

“Maybe it’s this penthouse?” I teased, playfully catching his glance. “Maybe it has some kind of matchmaking magic?”

“Maybe.” Dakota’s warm smile grew as he moved closer, his hand gently caressing my cheek. “Your cheeks are so red.”

His smooth touch and softly spoken words caused a rush of warmth to spread through me, which I’m sure only made my cheeks redder. I couldn’t help but be captivated by his green-eyed gaze.

“You’re so cute. You know that, Ottavia?”

His words hung in the air, a palpable charge between us. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in that moment. I felt an attraction, like a magnetic pull, drawing us closer with every passing second.

I couldn’t resist responding, my voice nothing but a feathery whisper. “You think I’m cute?”

We both began to lean in, our lips inching closer and closer, my heart pounding. As our lips hovered just inches apart, Dakota’s voice, filled with reverence, gently broke the silence.

“Nah,” he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. “I think you’re absolutely beautiful, actually.”

My heart skipped a beat as Dakota cradled my head in his hands and pulled me closer.

His confident touch, possessive yet tender, made my insides churn.

But what really ignited the fire inside me was when his lips met mine.

His passionate kiss consumed me, leaving no room for hesitation.

I responded eagerly, our mouths melding in a scorching embrace, a perfect fusion of the tension and desire that we’d been flirting with all day long.

I’d never been kissed like this in my life.

Every kiss threw more fuel on the fire, intensifying the hunger and urgency of our connection, the passion between us growing with each passing second.

Our bodies pressed against one another, and his hands began to roam, grazing and gliding over my sides as we sank deeper into the couch.

“Dakota …” I moaned, my lungs tightening as my body was smooshed beneath the weight of his massive frame.

His luscious lips tasted even more tantalizing as he deepened our kiss, like a sweet and juicy peach.

Our tongues touched, pushing and pulling, a seductively intimate dance that fanned the flames of desire smoldering in my core.

I felt myself opening for him as his warm hand wandered down my waist, my stomach twisting into knots, pleasant but conflicted.

How far was I truly comfortable going with someone I’d just met?

Was here and now really the time and place?

But as his big hand slid through the slit of my dress and traveled up my bare thigh, I didn’t dare tell him to stop.

Another part of me took over—the part of me that was sick of feeling like I never had a choice, that my life, my body, belonged to someone else.

I softly moaned into his mouth instead, encouraging him to keep going, to take more, take it all before either of us thought better of it.

His hand inched closer, and the heat between my legs went up like a wildfire, craving his touch. His hand glanced against the crotch of my panties, and I melted against his finger.

“Fuck, your pussy’s hot,” he grumbled, his voice thick and husky with lust. “You soaked your panties, too.”

I’d never been told anything so primal, so dirty before—and I was surprised at how much it resonated with me, deep down; how much I liked it. His words of affirmation only wound me tighter, the blistering heat inside me spreading.

Dakota’s finger gently reached under the crotch of my thong.

“Oh my God …” I moaned, running my fingers through his hair, as his finger touched my bare flesh.

Back and forth, he tenderly stroked my folds, slathering my heat like warm honey. He circled my entry with the tip of his thick finger, and I gasped, begging him please, my pussy fluttering with insatiable craving.

I was ready for this.

So ready, in fact, I tried to convince myself that the distant rustling I heard just outside the penthouse door wasn’t real.

But just as Dakota began to sink his finger into my wet grip, his warm heat seeping inside me, we heard it.

Plastic swiping against metal. The ka-thunk of a deadbolt unlatching.

Dakota pulled back, his hand still burrowed beneath my panties, to stare at me. His alarmed eyes were wide with surprise, as if to ask, Who’s that?! I thought you were staying here alone?!

Unable to hold his gaze, I forced my eyes away. Sorry.

The door opened.

“Tavi?” Leo asked as he walked in. “You home?”