Page 19 of Dirty Dealer
“As soon as fucking possible.” He clears his throat, his voice low again. I imagine he’s probably in his office. “I can’t get enough, man. And I can’t risk getting caught coming from one of the clubs. Much better to host my own parties, you know?”
“Right on. I’ll put together an itemized list and invoice for you by the end of the day. If you think of anything specific, shoot me an email or call.”
“You’re the best, Jude. And hey, once it’s all set up, you can come by to help me test it out. We can get away with a lot more in a private residence.” The joy in his tone sends my skin crawling. Worse, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it’s making Rachel. God, I need him off the phone, and now.
“Sounds good. Hey, I’m stepping into a meeting, but look for my email end of day.” I end the call before he even finishes saying good-bye. “So, um.” I slide my fingers along the grooves in my steering wheel.
“Yeah.” From the corner of my eye, she shifts in her seat.
“Just so you know, I’m not . . . He’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“I am not kinky.” I chance a glance her way, relieved she doesn’t appear as horrified as I anticipate. “At least not like he implied. Not that there’s anything wrong with that lifestyle.”
Her lips quirk up to one side. “No whips and chains for you?”
“I’m more of a whip cream and chocolate guy.” A vision of Rachel, shirtless and in my kitchen as I lick my favorite flavor from her skin flashes in my mind. Yeah, that’s more my speed.
She bites back a smile. “Sweet tooth.”
She has no idea. I shift in my seat in hopes she doesn’t catch sight of my growing arousal. “You?”
She laughs. “You saw me suck down my milkshake in record time last night.”
Yeah, I did.Her lips around that straw gave me naughty daydream material to last all month. “But whips and chains?” She’s going to slap me. She should, because I have no business asking about her sexual preferences. Only, I can’t help myself. It’s Pierce’s fault.
She glances out the window, and fiddles with one of her earrings. “I think some of the more sensual aspects of play can be stimulating if shared with the right partner.”
Oh?My interest perks. “You’ve played?”
“Uh, yeah.” Her cheeks redden. She glances at me before looking back out the window. “I dated a guy who was into the scene.” She clears her throat. “A Dom. At least, he liked to play one in the bedroom.”
The thought of her with another man quashes all lust-filled thoughts. I don’t want to hear about that. I don’t want to imagine her with anyone but me. A crazy instinct since she and I are hardly friends and she’s given zero interest as to anything more.
Still. I can’t help but notice how she crosses her legs. The slit in her dress falls open to her thigh. If she notices me staring, she doesn’t move to fix it. That’s got to count for something.
“Oh, I love this song.” She leans forward and turns up the console. I don’t know if she’s really into the music or doesn’t want to talk, but it’s not as if I can ask without sounding like some desperate weirdo.
Patience. I need to have some fucking patience.
Focusing on the drive, I let myself enjoy the music. Rachel sings along with some of the lyrics, and I try not to stare at her lips. Much too soon, I pull into an empty space in front of the studio.
“Let me help you.” I say, slipping out of my seat and ignoring her protests before they start. She can carry these bags herself. She’s been doing fine without me, but I’m not ready to say farewell. Thanks to Pierce’s call I missed out on conversation we could have shared. I grab for her bags and sling the straps over my shoulder, not minding a bit that it wrinkles my suit.
Rachel stares pointedly and lifts an eyebrow.
“What?” I grin, “And don’t tell me I don’t have to walk you in, because you know I’m going to anyway.”
“But—”
“Nope.” I hold up a hand and walk toward the building, praying to God she follows. “The only thing I want to hear out of those gorgeous lips is a thank you.”
Her hips swing purposefully with each step matching my stride. “Thank you.” The words leave her mouth just above a whisper. I try not to stare. Or trip. Jesus. I can only imagine how she’d never accept my help again if I dropped these bags. I’ve spent enough time with women to know there’s got to be thousands of dollars’ worth of product in these bags. The cost of beauty isn’t cheap.
“Well, this is me.” She stops a few steps before we reach the door, and accepts her bags as I hand them over.
Even though I’m a little bummed she doesn’t invite me inside, I appreciate the fact she takes her career seriously. “Same time tonight?”
