An Indulgent Moment (The Extravagant #2.5) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Novella, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Extravagant Series by Lauren Blakely

Total pages in book: 8
Estimated words: 7188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 36(@200wpm)___ 29(@250wpm)___ 24(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

An Indulgent Moment (The Extravagant #2.5)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Blakely

Book Information:

A sexy bedtime short story for you!
I've been longing for the man for years. Wanting him in my private thoughts. Wishing we could be together.
But we're too forbidden.
So I'll take what I can get — one delicious night. One indulgent moment.
Then I'll let him go.
But fate has other plans for me.
Books in Series:

The Extravagant Series by Lauren Blakely

Books by Author:

Lauren Blakely


* * *

The dazzling thing about Las Vegas is that no matter where you look, somehow the light is always in your eyes.

In the morning, the sun is either bouncing off buildings or the desert. At night, the whole moon pales behind our glitz. The only stars you’ll see are the endless celebrities at every hot new club on the Strip. I love this shining city of mine, where anything can happen.

And tonight, I’m hoping the dress I’ve chosen will make me the brightest light at the masquerade.

I’m hoping something magical will happen.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my walk-in closet and gauge the effect of my gown. It’s a pale gold silk column that skims my curves and makes my skin shine. At the vanity, I dust gold shimmer across my shoulders and décolletage to amplify the effect.

Tonight’s ball is themed “Cosmos,” and I want to look like a sun goddess.

I finish glossing my lips and add the final touch—a small crown of golden spikes that perches atop my waves of chestnut hair. Perfect.

I try not to place any expectations on the evening as I wrap the straps of my Grecian-style sandals up my calves. I’ve never seen him at any previous masquerade. Only his best friend, the one who’s our cover, who gives us the chance to chat and talk, sometimes to all grab a drink together.

I can’t help but wonder—if Xavier saw me now, would he like what he saw?

I’m made up as a fantasy—a reverse image of my usual self. During the workweek, Nadia and I both favor simple, elegant blouses and slacks. Except on Fridays, of course, when we proudly wear our custom team jerseys. Go, Hawks.

The one I sleep in at night is different. That one has his name on the back. His number. Forty-four.

I allow myself the briefest moment to imagine that if he saw me tonight, we could pretend. Pretend I’m not one of the women who holds the stakes in his team. Pretend it wouldn’t be the scandal of the year if we indulged, just once, in the promises our eyes have been making for the past two years while our lips have stuck to pleasantries and observations. Promises our voices have been making in secret phone calls, furtive stolen moments with his friend having our backs.

We’ve never touched.

Touch is too risky.

I dream of his touch though. I long for it. My body craves it madly.

But could it ever happen?

I hope, then I tuck that hope away.

My phone alerts me to Sage’s message.

Your carriage awaits.

I smile, feeling a little like Cinderella.

Slipping my mask into my clutch, I allow myself one final glance in the mirror, and then head outside to find Carlos holding open the limo door for me. Inside, Sage waits for me with a glass of champagne.

“You look absolutely incredible,” I tell her, my jaw dropping at the dress she’s chosen. It covers her completely. Floor-length, long sleeves, high neck—but it’s made from a frothy midnight-blue tulle, so only the silver embroidered stars scattered across her torso prevent it from being entirely transparent.

“Speak for yourself,” she says, handing me the flute of bubbles that nearly matches my own gown. We touch the rims together as Carlos pulls off, whisking us toward The Invitation. “Cheers to an unforgettable evening.”

I can feel my smile mirroring hers, secretive and knowing all at once.

Neither of us are shy about our desires, or our cravings to be desired. The difference is that she knows exactly who she’ll be leaving with this evening, and I haven’t met my Prince Wicked quite yet.

Seeing as the one I want is off-limits.

But I’m an optimist. To work in sports, it’s a good attitude to cultivate. My inner bright side tells me that tonight could be a special night. Maybe the kind where I go home with a man I can be deliciously unguarded with. One who wouldn’t mind exploring the naughtier sides of my fantasies.

One who I don’t have to hide my feelings for.

The champagne slides down my throat, crisp and dry.

“Cheers,” I say, and she repeats it.

We gossip for a bit, trading tidbits about who might be there tonight, and whether we’d even be certain if they were. The masks are the allure of these parties. They’re our freedom from our daily lives. From our reputations.

Ironic, isn’t it? Only by hiding our faces can we reveal our true selves.

Soon enough, Carlos pulls up in front of The Invitation, and we barely have time to slip our false faces on before he opens the door and we’re ushered in toward the ballroom. Attendants in livery are waiting to check our phones, and then finally we’re here.

The lighting prisms around the ceiling and walls like stars. A string quartet plays on a small stage flanked by heavy velvet curtains.