Free Seducing Seven (What Happens in Vegas) by M.K. Meredith Page A

breast, making it difficult to swallow against the goose bumps racing up her neck.
    “I can’t pitch your book at my interview, but you win.”
    Her mouth dropped open, then she snapped it closed. She won? Something akin to terror and elation raced through her senses. “I win?”
    His finger dipped under the edge of her dress, causing her heart to slam with insistence, then trailed to her arms. “You were right. I did go there to gather information, until everything you said made me realize you won. I want you.”
    His hips shifted forward, pressing her back, then his fingers fluttered from her arms to her neck. It was an agonizing trek that left her more confused than ever.
    Wrapping her hands around his wrists, she stilled his roaming fingers. “That wasn’t the whole bet.”
    He’d said nothing about feelings, about wanting her as a person.
    “I want you , Seven. You.”
    A delicious feeling as if she were floating washed through her.
    He wanted her.
    He desired her .

    B lake had no clue what to expect, and when Seven wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his, kicking his heart into overdrive, he couldn’t wait to find out. The past hours of constantly resisting the woman’s easy teasing and pointed seductions had been slow torture.
    Angling his head, he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Kissing her was like biting into a pastry. At the feel of her tongue sliding against his, his dick bucked in his pants. He slid his hands down the sides of her arms—fuck, her skin was soft as silk—and then dropped to the swell of her hips and her full, round ass. Flesh overflowed his hands and he squeezed. Sweet mother of God, the woman had an ass that would make J-Lo jealous.
    After seeing her all hot and bothered with that damn vibrator last night, he’d wanted nothing more than to finish the job for her, but there was something holding him back. He’d never questioned women’s decisions before; they were in charge of their own fun. So why the fuck he wanted to take charge now confused the hell out of him.
    Pulling back, he asked through a gasping breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if you’re not, tell me to leave now.”
    “It’s your room.” She bit her lip.
    Fuck, please don’t tell me to leave. Goddammit, why the hell was his conscience coming into play when his dick was so very interested in the game? He never worried over one-night stands before.
    He pressed a kiss to her mouth. “I’m serious.”
    Seven looked him in the eye. Something passed over her face as she studied him. He waited, holding his breath.
    She nodded, then whispered, “This is Vegas, baby. You say I won the bet, but you just won the jackpot.”
    He lifted her up against his chest, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her body against the ridge of his length. Son of a bitch, if she didn’t slow down, he’d go right now.
    He pressed her up against the wall, grinding into her, hoping to relieve the pressure, his dick swelling thicker still, and he growled low in his throat.
    The twin thumps of her shoes hitting the floor sounded, and Seven slid her tongue along his lower lip and sucked it into her mouth.
    His knees buckled, and he pressed into her more fully to gain some stability. “Fuck.”
    “I’m trying.” She smiled against his mouth, then trailed her lips along his neck to his earlobe, biting with a gentle tug, sending shivers down his spine.
    Not the wall. Not the wall.
    She tugged on his earlobe again and he went blind. What the hell was this woman doing to him? He needed to get it together—this wasn’t his first Vegas trip. Pulling in air, he tightened his grip on her ass and stepped back from the wall. In two steps he was by the bed, her body sliding down the length of his. He grabbed the hem of her dress and dragged it up her body as she went.
    Her lacy nude bra teased him with a peekaboo effect that made his mouth water.
    Placing her hands on his