“Exactly. Like you’re asking to be checked out. It’s not appropriate, Christian.”
“Are you saying you have dirty thoughts about me when we’re in your office? It’s been two days.”
“I had dirty thoughts in Rome, too, as you know. And you’re a terrible influence,” he says.
“Am I slutty?”
“So slutty.” He runs his thumb across my lips, and I catch it in my mouth, giving it a long, wet suck while I watch his gaze heat.
“But you like that,” I say once I let him go.
“How many times do I need to say it?”
I smile. “A lot. I have validation needs.”
“Do you? You seem fine to me.”
“This from the guy who wants me to see a therapist.”
He grins. “I care about my employees…And my friends,” he adds quietly.
“Well, the benefits are good either way.”
“Oh, you wanna be a brat, huh?”
I laugh. “No, sir. I wanna be a good boy.”
“Then come to the club with me tonight. Keep me company.”
I narrow my eyes and put my face back in his neck, groaning. “What is your deal with that place?”
“They need to know I have my eye on them. Otherwise, I lose influence.”
“Influence to blackmail politicians or make legitimate business deals?”
“There goes my blood pressure.”
“You like knowing everyone’s dirty secrets?” I ask.
“I promise most of them have worse secrets than what they do in my club.”
“How do you figure?”
“Okay,” he says, “maybe not most of them, but some of them certainly.”
I grin against his skin, unable to resist the urge to kiss it again.
He lets out a deliberate breath and places a hand between my shoulder blades. Squeezing.
“This pet of yours…”
“Mmhm?”
“She gonna be there?” I ask, remembering too well the way she shook her ass for him.
He draws back to look at me. “Is there another question in there somewhere?”
I meet his gaze. How weird do I want to make this? My history of being a once and done kind of guy is no help here. But I don’t want to stop messing around with Gibson. I also don’t want to stop feeling the way he makes me feel—it must be special if I don’t want to share. “You still want…that?”