My entire body was jerking.
A soft kiss to my neck. A second one feathered to my jaw, then a lingering kiss on my lips.
He was claiming me.
I was his.
I was a complete muddled mess.
I shook my head. “You—not fair.”
A rakish grin. “Trust me.” Another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You will be paying me back later tonight.”
God yes.
That meant he was coming back to me, after whatever he had planned. Kash wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it.
Please mean it, I suddenly thought. Please, please mean it.
I was worried about him. And oh boy, if I was starting tonight, about a blogger’s place, how would I handle the rest? His grandfather was Calhoun Bastian, for fuck’s sake.
He ran a hand down my face, tucking a strand of hair back and frowning just slightly. “What’s wrong? You just tensed.” He mock frowned at me. “You’re not supposed to be tense. That was the whole purpose of coming up here.”
A different thought hit me.
“You don’t think they have cameras in here?”
He grinned, his teeth flashing. “If they do, I have a feeling they’re going to have a hack tonight.”
Damn straight they would. Still. I eyed over his shoulder to the corners. I bet they did.
He dipped down again, his breath hot on my skin. “I asked them to turn them off.”
Oh. Relief.
Then … “How do you know they actually did?”
“Look up.”
I did.
“Is there a red light in the corner?”
Red. Red. Red. I was looking everywhere. I shook my head.
“They turned it off.”
That was good—very, very good. Then I could indulge some more. I lifted a hand, trailing it up his shoulder. Moving in, I grazed my nose against his throat.
I felt his rumble. “What are you doing?”
“Maybe I want to make you lose control too?” I looked up, enough to flash him my whites and wink before I moved my hand to his front.
“Bailey.” A gentle warning.
I didn’t care. Biting my lip, I was exploring, and I was loving it.
I dipped my fingers inside his shirt, between his buttons, and he sucked in his stomach. “Goddamn.” He grunted, grabbing for the railing behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Returning the favor.” I glanced up, our eyes met for a second, and I lowered myself below him.
“Bailey.”
He was hanging on, breathing harshly.
Good. That was so good.
I ran my hand over his pants, and he groaned, his body surging toward me. He was hard, straining against his zipper, and I was loving this. It was addicting, making him feel good, making him shudder from a mere touch, and pulling down the zipper, I reached in to bring him out.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
I looked up. His head had fallen back. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I saw his throat moving up and down.
Then I moved, my lips opening, and I encircled him.
“God,” he hissed.
I moved my lips over him, my teeth gently touching him, and he jerked in my mouth. Delicious. Dark. That’s how I felt, pleasuring him right back in this private box, in this club that had secrets in every corner. Here we were. My man and me. I was making him feel good, just as he had done for me, and I was loving every bit of it. Moving my mouth, angling for a deeper suction, I was bringing him how he had with me. I was leading him, taking him with me, and I could feel his stomach starting to tremble from the strength it took for him not to come.
I wanted him to come.
“Fuck, Bailey.”
He finished, but I still held him. Lowering his head, looking at me, there was a gentleness regarding me, and it made my heart squeeze.
He shook his head, catching me and lifting me. He didn’t help me stand. He picked me up, and I latched onto him. Like a damn koala. That was me. Legs wrapped around him. Arms holding on, and my head to his chest.
He walked me back to a couch and sat, me on top of him.
* * *
It was a bit later, after he had splayed me out on the couch and was bending over me, his mouth moving in another slow and torturous exploration, when the light flared on in the room.
I yelled, but Kash flattened his body over me, covering me, and growled, “It better be life-or-death.”
A voice sounded from the door, strained. “It’s Mr. Francis.” And then said, “Something’s wrong.”
That was enough.
The tension lifted, and he clipped his head in a nod. “A second. Please.”
“Of course, Mr. Colello.”
The light was switched off. The door closed.
And silence.
He expelled a strong burst of air, lowering his head and pressing his forehead to my neck. “I’m sorry.” He smoothed a hand down my side again, sitting up and helping to cover me.
I was quivering but moved my head up and down. I croaked, motioning, “Go. See what’s wrong with Matt.”