Free Vegas Miracle by Liz Crowe

plush carpet, she ran directly into a masculine bare chest.
    "Whoops," she blushed and tried to walk around him realizing without effort that he was the man from the bed.
    "Grace, my dear," his voice was deep and inflected with some exotic accent Grace couldn’t place.  "Are you enjoying yourself?"  He side stepped with her and wouldn’t let her pass.
    "Oh, um, yeah, I mean, sure." She shook her head at herself.
    He moved alongside and put an arm around her shoulders. She caught of whiff of vanilla and resisted the urge to bury her nose in his dark skin.  She shivered.  "How do you know my name?"
    He turned, smiled and Grace’s knees started to shake.  His dark hair, combined with the burnished brown of his skin and the sheer lust in his mocha eyes made her want to…Then his lips on hers cut off all rational thought.  Grace put her hands on his shoulders, thinking she would push him away but the feel of his bare skin under her hands merely added to the enticement.  She let him press her up against the wall as his lips ravaged hers.
    "Wait," Grace broke the connection and pushed back, trying to regain some semblance of control.
    The man took a step away from her and smiled as he took her hand and pulled it to his amazing lips.  Grace shuddered and then looked around the hall, half hoping Ryan would appear and take her out of this situation. The other half was still wobbly with desire for the man sucking on her fingertips.  His eyes never left hers but when he released her hand, he settled an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to her ear.
    "I’m Henri."  His accent was thick, edible.  "I invited you."  He nibbled her earlobe, sending shockwaves through her entire body.
    "Well, Henri," Grace leaned away from him as a defensive measure.  "I, uh, should really go find my…"
    Before she could finish, Henri pulled her into a room and shut the heavy door with a loud thunk, and was kissing her like she’d never been kissed, lips firm and forceful.  Not even fully comprehending what she was doing, Grace wrapped her arms around his neck and had her hand buried in the silky tangle of his long, dark hair.  Their tongues collided and heat rose in her enervated body, making her nipples harden to tight peaks and her core flame with urgency.  Breaking from his intoxicating lips, she gasped and looked up at the ornate ceiling.
     "But, wait. I can’t, I mean," she tried to extract herself from his embrace but he held her tight, running dark hands down her back and cupping her ass.
    "My dear, it’s why you're here," he whispered, his grin glowing against the deep mocha of his skin.  "Haven’t you figured that out yet?"
    "I'm not here to do this with you," she felt anger replacing lust and channeled it to break free of Henri’s arms.
    He took a step back and sank gracefully onto a large lounge chair that seemed contoured to fit his body.  Raising a knee so she couldn’t miss the huge bulge under his soft trousers, he appraised her.  Grace stood, chest heaving in anger, trying to calm her wildly thumping heart.  He was like something out of a movie stretched out on that lounge, a man shaped smorgasbord.  Shaking her head to clear it, she crossed her arms.
    "Look, Henri, I just don’t know if my husband would appreciate me, you know, just going off with you like this."
    Henri laughed a deep, warm sound that oozed into her psyche, somehow soothing her in spite of its implication.   She started to protest but felt her knees giving out in a combination of stress and confusion.  Tears threatened.  Henri was beside her in an instant, pulling her head to his shoulder, his lips on her hair.
    "No, no, it’s not like that. I’m sorry," he tilted her face up to his.   Running the back of a finger down her cheek, he smiled and Grace couldn’t help but smile back.   His mouth, when it reached hers, already felt familiar.
    She let him ease her down until she was lying next to him on the soft duvet.  Unable to