Sean glares at me like he’s ready to brawl.If he wants to go, bring it on. I’ll show him just how tough thislittle rich girl can be.
“Maybe Ryan does have a fighting chance withyou after all.”
“Maybe,” I respond snidely.
“Maybe what?” Ryan’s voice carries over themusic and Sean and I both look over at him.
“Maybe nothing, Sean just needed somereassurance about something,” I say pseudo-sweetly.
“Anything I should know about?” Ryan pinsSean with an accusing look.
“Nope, nothing, bro. Your girl was justputting me in my place,” Sean says derisively.
“Right where you should be,” Ryan smilesscathingly. “Do you need a drink?” he asks me.
“Like the desert needs rain.” I hand him myglass.
“So are you ready to own me?” Ryan asks afterwe have a few more glasses of champagne. He has me pinned againstthe wall, his half-naked body pressed against mine, moving subtlyto the music.
“I guess as I’ll ever be,” I murmur,completely spun up in the mix of Ryan’s hot and steamy alter egoand the heady effects of the alcohol. I understand why he’s sosuccessful as Jack the Stripper, he exudes sexuality; a seductive,beguiling, temptation that just derails you. He’s magnetizing.
Ryan takes my hand and leads me away from ourlittle crowd. I give a small wave to Emily as I walk out the door.We head back downstairs and through the main room of the club,cutting over the dance floor. As we walk a multitude of lustfuleyes size Ryan up; some even go so far as to touch him, caressinghis arms and chest like a devout harem.
It’s odd to experience, and just before webreak away from the mass of dancers I hear someone hiss, “Luckybitch.”
Suddenly a wave of possessiveness comes overme; lucky is right, he’s mine.
I squeeze his hand tighter as we slip throughthe hanging beads at the back of the club. We walk past the dozensof tiny alcoves where just like before, silhouettes of bodies aredoing sinful and illicit things. And as the scent of lavenderincense hits me I’m transported back to the night Ryan and I spenthere doing our own sinful and illicit things. My flesh heats,curious which room he’ll choose, but he just keeps going until weget to the end of the hall.
“Aren’t we going in one of those?” I point tothe hanging beads behind us.
“Not tonight,” he glances back at me, andthere is a mischievous look in his beautiful blue eyes.
He pulls a silver chain out of his pocketthat has a gold key dangling on the end. Then he unlocks thedoor.
“What’s in there?” My curiosity isprovoked.
“Take a look,” Ryan pushes the door open andI poke my head inside.
I gasp at the opulence. It’s a bedroom; abeautifully decorated bedroom. I step in and spin around inspectingeach and every aspect of the space. It’s done in all pale colors,whites, creams and the softest of pinks. The walls are draped withsheer white fabric and illuminated with tiny twinkle lights.
“Why is there a bedroom in the back of anight club?” I ask astounded, while candle light flickers allaround us.
“We call it the B and B,” Ryan says, steppingcloser to me.
“And what does B and B stand for?”
“Boyfriend bedroom,” he answers, trying togauge my reaction. “It’s for the boyfriend experience.”
“Do I dare ask what the boyfriend experienceis?”
“It’s the most private and personal servicewe offer.”
Service?
“And how many boyfriend experiences have youdone?” I look around and have a feeling this goes above and beyondanything that happens behind those dangling crystals.
“Two,” he says seriously, “and they were bothbefore you.”