Page 43 of A Secret and a Lie
“Sometimes I wonder if society will ever reach a place where sex, and therefore, sex workers, aren’t vilified or considered taboo.”
“Says the man who was vanilla just five minutes ago.” I wink at him, unable to suppress my grin.
He smirks right back. “I just had you strung up on a cross, I dare you to tell me I’m vanilla now.”
“Oh, no one could brand you with that label at this point.”
When he steps closer to me, I regret growing too comfortable with him and whirl back around, throwing the dart at the board. “I’m shit at this sport.”
As I turn back to him, his mouth has softened, and the lines bracketing his eyes have disappeared. He smirks, stepping up behind me.
“I think your technique is the issue. Here, I’ll show you.” He invades my space, his front now pressed against my back as he reaches around me, his palm cupping my hand. My breath picks up, the heat of his body warming me from the inside out. When he lifts the dart still clutched in my fingers, I notice how rough his hands are, indicating that he works with them in a way most businessmen don’t.Is that from the gym? Something else?
Our fingertips brush, and my stomach flips. It’s been so long, almost fifteen years, since I feltthis.
“You’re only using two fingers to throw the dart. You should use at least three,” he explains, dragging me back to the task at hand. “Grip it in your hand like you’re holding a pencil. Good, yeah, like that.”
The praise over my grip on a damn dart shouldn’t affect me nearly as much as it does, my pussy quivering like a needy bitch.
“Now, spread your legs,” he instructs, his voice authoritative, as if the command is coming from the dominant side of himself, and that’s exactly the way my body responds. His left hand falls to my waist, gripping my hip as he adjusts my stance.
His fingers dig into my flesh, but only hard enough to remind me he’s there, holding me—as if I could possibly forget. “Shift your weight onto your right leg and use your left for balance as you throw.”
All I want is to tell him to lift the hem of my dress, bend me over the pool table, and fuck me into tomorrow. I don’t. BecauseIcan’t.
It’s official; I shouldneverhave agreed to see this man again.
“Bring your arm back.” He draws my hand back, like he’s the Master and I’m his doll. “Your shoulder is the only thing that shouldn’t move. Let your elbow and wrist do all the work.”
Just as I let go, the dart arcing through the air and nailing the board, I hear a rustling sound come from behind us. I turn, squirming out of Ford’s embrace to peer around his muscular form. “Did you hear that? Are you sure we’re the only one’s here?”
Stepping out from around him, I scan the bar, my gaze lingering on the mouth of the shadowy hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Straining my vision, I assess the dark walls and tenebrous silhouettes that seem to be clamoring to be released from the confines of the corridor, but no one emerges.
“Just us, I promise.”
My head swivels back in his direction, eyes narrowed dubiously. Meeting his gaze once more, I tilt my chin to the side, the blunt end of my straight bob kissing my neck chastely. Just because I don’tseea lie floating on the surface of his ocean-blue irises, doesn’t mean there isn’t one lurking beneath the waves.
Everyone has something to lie about.
I’m just on edge. It’s fine.
“What do you think about a change of scenery?” He smirks, that disarming dimple emerging.
“What did you have in mind?” I arch a skeptical eyebrow, but the smile on my face betrays my giddiness. I feel light, like my brain is floating on a cloud above my head, and I mentally cut myself off from any additional gin.
Extending an open palm toward me, I slip my hand in his, the warmth radiating through me like rays of sunlight. “You didn’t think I brought you to a dive bar just to play darts, did you? I can plan a better date than that.”
My belly flips again, but I don’t correct him this time because—God, help me—I want this to be a date as much as he does. I adamantly refuse to admit that, though. Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I allow him to lead me to the back of the bar and into a narrow hallway that doesn’t seem like it’s typically open to the public.
At the end of the corridor, Ford opens a door to reveal an old staircase and flips on a light to illuminate our climb. At the top, he swipes a keycard before he pushes the metal door and holds it open for me.
When I step onto the rooftop, I gasp, my eyes going wide. “You did all this?”
Twinkle lights are strewn above us, glowing like tiny lanterns. Numerous species of hedges and potted plants surround us, transforming what’s a slab of concrete and brick into a lush botanical garden. Music plays from a speaker somewhere, but it’s soft rock, not classical. However, the best part is sitting on a table in the center of the rooftop.
Lemon squares, pies, eclairs, frosted cakes, brownies, cookies, fruit tarts, and every dessert in between are artfully displayed. It’s sweet tooth heaven; it’smyheaven.
“I’ll stop at nothing to get what I want.”
