Chapter 127 Chapter 127 The Kiss
I am trying to figure out why he thought a comedy club was a good idea.
We are sitting right at the front of the room. Front row. Prime target. I sip my drink and listen to this dumb comedian absolutely lay into Mike.
Why?
I guess it’s some sort of sin to look like him and be out with me. Please. There are so many other women who are more attractive than me; with uglier guys than him. Looks are not everything. I don’t see what the big deal is.
Mike is laughing.
I am not amused.
“Your girl doesn’t find me funny at all,” the comedian says, pointing right at me.
I don’t hesitate. “I am waiting for you to tell an actual joke. Your set sucks!” I yell out.
The room erupts in laughter.
At least someone here is funny.
The comedian blinks, thrown off for half a second, then turns his attention back to Mike. “Where do I know you from? You look familiar.”
Mike smiles easily, like he’s used to attention. “My father owns this hotel. I’m Mike Stone.”
That catches me off guard.
We are sitting in one of the newest, coolest hotels on the Strip. It opened a few months ago—massive buzz, impossible reservations, the whole thing. His father is Michael Stone.
Well… damn.
But then why is he working at a furniture gallery?
His car is expensive—offensively expensive—and in a color so bright it almost hurts to look at. But this is Vegas. Cars like that are everywhere. It could have been a rental.
Still… I have questions.
Questions I’m not going to ask.
It’s one date.
For now.
“I see,” the comedian says, nodding slowly. “Okay. That makes sense. She wants you for the money.”
Mike shakes his head, still smiling. “She didn’t know about that until now.”
“Damn, man,” the comedian says, leaning in. “You are definitely getting a blowjob tonight.”
I laugh.
Because that was actually funny.
“For having money,” he adds, “or because she feels bad that I’ve been picking on you?”
Laughter, then moves on to his next victims.
Finally.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and take another sip of my drink. Mike drapes his arm over the back of my chair, casual and warm.
He leans in slightly. “I really thought he was going to be funnier.”
I laugh. “He sucks.”
Another painful thirty minutes crawl by before we finally get up and leave the comedy club. The noise fades behind us as we head toward the restaurant.
I smooth my dress down with one hand. Mike has my other hand in his.
And I feel… nothing.
It hits me all at once. No spark. No pull. No tension. Nothing about him excites me.
I start questioning everything.
Why did I go out with him?
This was a stupid idea.
Mike pulls my chair out as the hostess leads us to our table. The restaurant is dim, warm, with a pub-like feel—but elevated. It smells incredible, like gourmet cheeseburgers and something buttery I can’t quite place.
The server comes quickly, takes our order, and disappears just as fast.
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you about my dad?” Mike asks.
“I’m not on a date with your dad,” I reply simply.
Mike laughs, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “If my dad saw you, he would definitely hit on you.”
“So he’s like every other old man when they see a fresh pair of perky tits.”
Mike almost falls out of his chair laughing.
And there it is.
Something about the way laughter rips through him—unfiltered, genuine—it’s… sexy. Huh. Maybe there’s some hope left for him.
The rest of dinner is easy. Basic conversation, nothing too deep. He goes to the university like me. He’s studying advertising, works part-time at an ad firm and at the furniture gallery. He rents a house with his sister. His best friend is a guy. That’s a big plus. He golfs. Goes to the same country club Gemma and I do.
He flirts.
I flirt back.
Automatically.
But my mind drifts anyway.
What would he be like in bed?
The thought slides in uninvited.
Maybe I should find out before I completely write him off.
But not tonight.
If he asks for another date… I’ll say yes.
A few dates, though.
I can’t go off the rails again.
Not like before.
I’ve been stupid. Careless.
And then the thought hits me—the one I try not to sit with too long.
Am I doing this to myself?
I’ve been the other woman before.
Without shame.
So… is that why I can’t get a man to be faithful to me?
The hypocrisy stings.
Am I even allowed to ask for that?
By the time dinner ends, my thoughts are quieter, pushed aside. Mike walks me up to my door, just like he picked me up earlier. We linger there in silence. I reach into my bag for my keys. He moves fast, closing the space between us. His lips press against mine—
—and I melt.
My bag slips from my hand, hitting the floor as I grab onto him, pulling him closer. One of his hands cups my face, steady and warm. The other rests on my hip, grounding me.
I let him deepen the kiss.
His mouth is soft, warm. His lips—
God, his lips are absolutely bite-worthy. My heart flutters, my palms are sweaty. He’s really good at this. Mike pulls back slowly, breaking the kiss.
Fuck.
My panties are soaked.
He bends down to pick up my bag, lingering just a second too long before standing back up. I fight the urge to pull him inside my apartment. Ivan is there, the walls are thin. Sounds like a terrible idea.
“Can I take you out again?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, still a little breathless.
“Have a good night.”
I nod as he steps into the elevator. I stay where I am, watching him as the doors begin to slide shut. There’s something in the way he looks at me—something that finally sparks a little heat in my chest. Maybe this isn’t a total loss.
The elevator doors close.
And then—
The door across the hall swings wide open. My cousin stands there, leaning against the frame, grinning like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“I thought he was never going to leave,” he says, laughing.