Page 65 of The Broker

Charlotte and I stayed.

Maybe it was because I wanted to see the full conclusion to the scene. Or maybe it was because I couldn’t get my damn hand to move away from her.

So we remained watching as a lot of other people filed out. Travis finished cleaning Lilith up, undid the clasps of her cuffs, and helped her to stand. She turned to face Clay, who stepped between her and the audience’s view, then draped Travis’s coat over her shoulders. He worked to undo the buckles on her wrists while his partner focused on her ankles.

They were so tender and caring with each other, the sexual energy in the room faded. The atmosphere was too personal, too intimate. We’d watched them get naked, play, and fuck, but this quiet moment after?

It felt weirdly intrusive.

Charlotte must have sensed it too, because she glanced at me and looked like she was about to say something.

I beat her to it, though, and gestured to her now-empty drink. “C’mon,” I said softly. “Let’s get another round.”

When she nodded, it disrupted the spell enough that I was finally able to pull my hand away from her. But as we moved for the door, I felt the touch of her lingering on my skin. There was a craving in me to get her back in my hands as soon as possible.

We weren’t the only ones who’d decided to grab drinks after the show, which meant the bar was crowded and we had to stand close together while waiting our turn to order—but I wasn’t complaining. With her heeled boots, she was almost as tall as I was, and we fit together nicely in the cramped space.

“What’s the plan after we get our drinks?” Her voice turned sultry. “Are we going into one of the private rooms so you can do me that favor?”

I’d been trying to get the bartender’s attention, but now she had mine and I turned to look at her. “You like watching,” I said.“So I thought we could go upstairs,” I ran my heated gaze over her for emphasis, “where clothing is optional for everyone.”

Her smile started slowly and built. “Yeah. Definitely.” She looked so excited about it, I half expected her to say she wanted to forget about the drinks and head up there right now.

But I needed to slow her down, and my expression turned serious. “There are some things we have to talk about first.”

Worry flashed through her eyes at the same moment the bartender appeared. I put in our order, and she waited impatiently for him to leave and start making our drinks before she could ask it. “Talk about what?”

I went with the easiest question first. “How do you think you’d feel about being watched?”

This wasn’t what she’d expected, and it took her a long moment to consider it. And then she blinked, and it looked like she was holding in a laugh. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. You haven’t figured out that I’m kind of an attention whore?”

Shit, she was right. Charlotte had been the center of her parents’ universe growing up, and the goal for her now was to build a channel that got as many eyeballs as possible.

She thrived on attention.

Could the same be said of me?

In certain settings, yeah. Not as much with my family, but with my career. When I’d executed a major trade or negotiated a big deal, I made sure my name was all over it. And in the bedroom, I fuckinglovedbeing watched. Even if the woman’s partner didn’t want to see or be in the room during, I knew they’d be talking about me after the deed was done. That gave me a dark satisfaction.

Oh, man. Maybe I was an even bigger attention whore than Charlotte.

After I paid for our drinks and we’d collected them, I turned to survey the room.

“Was that all you wanted to talk about?” She asked it innocently, but there was an edge of impatience beneath it. She was eager to get upstairs.

“No.” I found what I was looking for and pointed to the empty table near the dance floor. The music was loud here, but not too loud to talk over, and if we went anywhere quieter in the club, it was likely we’d both get too distracted.

She shuffled begrudgingly to the table, and I had to hide my chuckle behind a sip of my drink. Her pouty attitude shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but it fucking was.

We set our drinks on the tabletop that was lit with a single flameless candle, but when she moved to take a seat, I stopped her.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore,” I announced.

She jolted with surprise and immediately looked distraught. “What? Why?”

My heart went out of rhythm because there was no turning back. I got the same rush I did when buying a risky stock. The unknown was exciting, full of promise and danger.

Goddamn, she was pretty. I reached out to trace a fingertip over her forehead and down the side of her face, brushing her hair out of my way. The action stunned her perfectly still, so I had to curl my fingers beneath her chin and pull her mouth toward mine.

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