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“You still have not come to my club,” Nairobia said as she eyed Marcel. He sat across from her, cutting into his steak. They were having an early dinner. Not a date. She’d driven her own car. And he’d driven his. And now they sat, finishing up their meal, sharing a cozy table for two.
“Why? Do you not wish to see the inside of sweet decadence?”
Marcel wiped his mouth with his napkin, and regarded her with a smile. He was proud of her success with The Pleasure Zone, and had this been another time in his life, he’d been there with his libido and hard dick in hand ready to indulge in his sexual proclivities. But since Marika’s death…that part of his life had died too. He had no desire for sex parties or clubs, things he and Marika had enjoyed together. These days, he preferred the comforts of behind closed doors to pander his desires…hopefully, one day, with one special someone.
“I’ve already felt the inside of sweet decadence,” he murmured. “Inside you.”
Nairobia felt her cunt tingle, and herself warming from the inside out.
Damn it all to hell. And damn him. The man was unapologetic. Relentless.
She dismissed his comment. “How is my darling Carlos doing?”
Marcel raised a brow. “Would you like his number to call him?”
He smiled, but his eyes had gone dark as sin. She stared at him unsure if he was pulling her chain, or serious.
Was that jealousy she saw flash in his eyes?
She’d bet her gun’s license and second-degree black belt—something many had no knowledge she possessed—that it was.
Feigning a shrug, she said, “If you wish for me to have it, my love.”
His body stiffened. “I’ll tell him to call you,” he said blandly.
Nairobia reached over and placed a warm hand over his very large, long-fingered one. She smiled. “I don’t ever need another man to do my work, my darling. His number is at my fingertips whenever I want it.” She tilted her head. “Tonight, I dialed yours, no?”
Marcel regarded her in kind. True, tonight she’d called him, a pleasant surprise to say the least. Finally, they were turning a corner…or maybe not.
She still had up so many walls. He thought he was guarded. But, goddamn. She had the walls of Jericho erected around her. But he was more determined than ever to climb over them, one layered-brick at a time.
He nodded. “Yes, you did.”
“Then let’s not dilly-dally over nothing. Stay right here—with mij, in the moment.”
He smiled. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
She had her long hair elegantly pinned up in a French twist, and still wore the faint traces of a burgundy-wine lip gloss over her plush lips. Marcel’s gaze dropped to her cleavage, and he licked his lips.
Tonight, she’d worn something a little less…revealing. Still sexy, still seductive, yet, far from scandalous, she’d worn a black dress, with lace sleeves and lace cutouts on either sides of her. The dress hugged her in all the right places, still leaving room for one’s imagination to roam freely, filling with salacious thoughts.
She cocked her head to the side. Then a slow smile worked over her mouth. “No, mijn liefde, you have not. Not in”—she glanced at her diamond bracelet watch—“the last hour or so.”
He laughed, his brown orbs sparkling, his dimples deepening. “Then let me correct that now. Nairobia, baby, you look beautiful. Edible. And I’d love nothing more than to take you home and eat you alive.”
She felt heat brush over her skin. God how she loved his deep dimples, his infectious laugh. He was everything she should want. That she would want, if she were on the market in search of a life partner.
She slid out of her heel and extended her leg, sliding her foot over the inner part of his thigh. The left. Where his dick usually rested. Marcel smiled, and leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs wider, welcoming the press of her warm foot against him.
He felt the question simmering on his lips. He felt it burning the tip of his tongue. So he asked her—point-blank, “When are you going to stop running from me?”
Nairobia’s lashes fluttered. “What do you ever mean?”
“Don’t play coy with me, baby. You know exactly what I mean. Why are you running from me?” She felt his dick thicken and stretch the fabric of his pants against the sole of her foot. Her mouth watered at the feel of him coming alive.
She licked her lips. “I-I’m not running, my love.”
Marcel pressed his legs shut around her foot.
