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She adjusted her buttoned-up collar, already dampening with sweat. The air was cool, but it suddenly seemed fucking stupid to have worn a coat she couldn’t take off until they were alone. “Shady characters. There’s, like, no lights in the parking lot. A car like this won’t last five minutes.”
He laughed as traffic opened up, allowing him to turn onto a side street that led to the back. “There’re lots of people out tonight. It’ll be fine.”
She rubbed her hairline. If she pushed it, he’d ask her why it mattered to her. She’d just have to work around it.
Beau pulled into a spot and shut off the car. They sat there for an unusually still moment, a dreamlike state, Lola still not sure she could pull this off. Maybe if she didn’t move, she wouldn’t have to. She shook her head quickly to shoo the ridiculous thought. This was what she’d wanted for weeks, and she wasn’t turning back now.
Beau looked at her in the dark. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, keeping her eyes forward.
He reached over and turned her head to him. He leaned in, pulling her closer by her chin, and kissed her once on the lips. “Sometimes I forget how it feels to receive a gift without a price tag. I know you put a lot of thought into this.”
“I did.” Lola forced herself not to look away. Was he just figuring out that what made something special was the thought behind it, not the dollar amount? Sporadic comments like those made her think Beau was changing in little ways, that maybe he wouldn’t always put money and work first. She hoped he’d keep going down that path. “There’s something else.”
“More?”
Lola removed the lid from the box in her lap and held up the cat ears. “As soon as I put these on my head, I’m no longer your girlfriend. I’m a stranger. A—sex worker.”
The corner of his mouth crooked into a smile. He dropped his hand to one of her thighs, squeezing it right under the hem of her coat. “Is it bad if that excites me?”
Lola removed his hand by his wrist and placed it back on his side of the car. “That means absolutely no touching tonight. You’re getting an authentic experience. You’re my customer, and you’ve hired me to dance for you, just like you did that first night. Which means keeping your hands to yourself.”
Beau sighed up at the roof. “I’ve come this far—what’s a little longer?” He looked back over at her. “Anything else, my queen?”
No—there was nothing else. Except that she couldn’t seem to move from that spot and get out of the car. He was being so good tonight. Attentive. A real boyfriend—better than Johnny, even better than Beau at his best. “Yes,” she said softly. “Kiss me.”
Beau put his hand to her cheek without hesitation. He inclined over the console and brushed the tip of his nose against hers. He pecked her once, but she put her arms around his neck before he could pull away. They opened their mouths to each other at the same time, their warm tongues meeting in the middle. It wasn’t in her plan. It wasn’t even her parting gift to him. This one was just for her.
He inhaled and separated from her but kept his forehead pressed against hers. “You sure you don’t want to just go home?”
She hesitated to seem genuine, but she was ready. She was picturing ahead to being inside, dancing close to him, turning him raw and defenseless. She lifted the cat ears on her index finger and dangled them in front of him. “Want to do the honors?”
He took the headband and placed it over her hair. “Perfect.”
Beau got out and rounded the car to get her door. He held out a hand to help her, but she shook her head at him.
“Right,” he said, dropping it back to his side. “No touching.”
She unfolded out of the Lamborghini, and they walked around to the front, shoulder to shoulder.
The bouncer took one look at Lola and opened the velvet rope for them. “Evening, Miss Winters.”
“You really went all out, didn’t you?” Beau
asked behind her.
She ignored him and passed through the entryway into the club. The music hit her like a fist to the gut, uglier than usual, all hard bass without any detectable rhythm. Or maybe her brain was jumbling things that didn’t matter, unable to afford the extra attention. Kincaid was at the bar, watching over things like he sometimes did. Neon streaks cut through the dark like they were trying to dismember him. They exchanged a nod.
“Follow me,” she said to Beau over her shoulder. She was in charge for once. That was how she knew she had Beau. He was letting her get away with more than he would anyone else, especially tonight.
She walked him down a long hallway until they reached the last door. There, Lola took a moment to herself. With a deep breath, she adjusted her headband and smoothed her hand over her trench coat. What had Kincaid called her earlier that day?
“The cat that swallowed the canary.”
She liked that. She’d have to remember it.
Lola opened the door and led Beau into their final moments together.
18
Cat Shoppe’s VIP room was more than familiar to Lola and Beau. After all, this would be their third time renting it.
“VIP?” Beau asked from behind her as they entered.
“It was either here or out there,” Lola teased, nodding toward the main stage.
Beau stepped so close to her, she felt his heat on her back. “You don’t think I’d let you dance out there, where anyone could see. Do you?”
Lola walked deeper into the room to get away from him. Just being back there, remembering how she’d gotten to her knees and sucked him off, was enough to make her heart beat a little faster. She gestured toward the red-velvet couch, which curved around the circular room. “Sit.”
He obeyed, easing into the seat, looking amused as he crossed an ankle over his knee. “If I’m the customer, aren’t I in charge?”
“If it makes you feel better to think so.” Lola took her time unknotting the belt of her trench coat. “Sometimes I’m not sure which one of us is in charge—but I guess that’s just the dynamic of our relationship, isn’t it?”
