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West.
That's what he said his name was when I met him on the flight from New York City to Las Vegas.
I was on my way to sin city for a bachelorette party. West had business there.
He was wickedly handsome, demanding, and the intensity in his eyes melted me from the inside out.
I left his hotel suite before he woke up because a one-night stand is just that. It's one night of pleasure that doesn't seep into the next day.
At least that's what it's supposed to be if it doesn't go completely wrong.
I didn’t give him my real name. We never exchanged numbers.
West didn’t need any of that to find me.
All he had to do was look across a conference table in Manhattan two months later.
Out of all the advertising agencies in the city, Jeremy Weston chooses the one my father owns to work on the campaign for the launch of his company’s latest product.
I try to pretend I’m not the woman he spent a night with in Las Vegas, but my body betrays me.
Not everything that happens in Vegas stays there.
The sins of my past are proof of that.
Author’s Note: This standalone novel contains a handsome stranger on an airplane, male strippers, and a HEA that will leave you breathless. Although some characters from my previous books appear in SIN, you don’t have to read any of my other books to enjoy this sexy romance!
Lincoln
“If this is how you dress on Monday morning, I’d love to get a glimpse of you on Saturday night.”
I close my eyes even tighter. There’s no way he’s talking to anyone but me.
His breath inches over the skin of my neck. “Just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”
I thought he was still fast asleep.
When I boarded the flight in New York City two hours ago, the man in the seat next to me was already belted in and silent.
It took me a few minutes to realize that his eyes were shut beneath the dark sunglasses he was wearing.
I used that to my advantage. I spent the first thirty minutes of the flight blatantly staring at him while he slept.
Broad shoulders, day-old stubble covering his jaw, brown hair that is messed up just enough to promise a sexy, bad-boy beneath the tailored suit and expensive tie.
“I’m West.” His deep voice rumbles through every part of me.
If I could orgasm just from a man’s voice, this would be the one.
“And you are?” he continues talking even though I’m clearly not responding to him. “You’re not asleep. You can stop pretending you are.”
I bite the bullet and open my eyes. I turn to look at him.
Holy hell.
I thought this man was hot when he was wearing sunglasses.
His deep brown eyes add another dimension to how devastatingly gorgeous he is.
“What’s your name?” He looks into my green eyes before his gaze travels over my shoulder length brown hair.
I turn my head so I’m facing forward again. I was the odd woman out when my friends and I decided to take this trip to Las Vegas. After a quick game of rock-paper-scissors they ended up sitting next to each other in the third row.
I was stuck with this aisle seat in the first row next to this stranger.
I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing or a very good thing.
“We’ll revisit the name issue.” He slides his hand to the armrest so it’s just mere inches from mine. “I need a vodka.”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
I catch a side glimpse of him sliding up the sleeve of his suit jacket to look at a big watch. “In New York. It’s three in the afternoon in London so cheers.”
The flight attendant is pushing a glass of clear liquid into his hand before I can absorb what he just said.
First class definitely comes with perks.
“Can I get you anything?” She looks me over trying to hide the smirk that’s tugging at her lips.
One dose of self-esteem with a chaser of courage, please.
I wish that were on the drink menu.
“She’ll take one of these,” West says.
“I don’t day drink.” I glance in his direction again.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” He lets out a deep laugh. “You were sober when you got dressed this morning?”
I look down at the tight white tank top, bright pink tutu and white high heels I’m wearing.
Thank God I tucked the tiara that was on my head back into my bag after my friends took their seats.
“I’m not the only one dressed like this.” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “There are two other women on this flight dressed just like me.”
The plan we hatched a week ago seemed sane at the time.
Our mutual friend, Kendra, is set to marry her fiancé is less than a month. Since we’re all bridesmaids, we thought it would be fun to plan a one-night-only bachelorette party.
Unfortunately, the only night our schedules synced up was tonight.
We told the bride-to-be to meet us at the airport since her flight from Atlanta lands thirty minutes before our flight. She has no idea that we’ll all be dressed in the same over-the-top outfit she wore in the pictures she posted to social media to announce her engagement.
The part of the plan was not my idea. I was outvoted. Twice.
“I don’t care about them.” He leans so close to me that his lips almost touch mine. “Something tells me that you’re the one who is unforgettable.”
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