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“And if you decide you want to record us again?”
“Then I will.”
“And what?”
“When we’re done, you walk away with anything intimate or incriminating.”
“I can’t trust you.”
“Okay,” he said, pulling her arms away to step back. “Daly will take you home.”
Which meant her family’s pain. Plenty of journalists went deep for the right story. Was the risk worth it? As he said, he already had enough to pull the trigger. Even if he recorded every other encounter, all it would mean was more embarrassment for her. The damage would be the same. Her words, she’d be careful with those, but the physical? The horse had already bolted on that one.
“No,” she said, sliding off the desk. “What do I have to lose? You already have all the power.”
Though he grew more discerning, his exhale was gruff enough to be amusement. “Flattery?”
“Girl’s got to get through the day,” she said, stroking down his arm to guide it around her as she stepped in against him. “Last time we got close down here, someone got shot.”
“He survived.”
“So you want to take another shot?” she asked, tucking a hand under his jacket again. “Or take this somewhere else?”
“I have a meeting.”
“And I heard you were one for breaking rules…”
As he dipped lower, he squeezed her ass and tipped her chin to join their mouths. Whoever she was trying to convince, there was no lie in her natural response to those lips massaging hers. Maybe it was his force, the unapologetic demand of his tongue conquering her mouth. Within seconds, she was clinging to the fabric on his body, pressing her own against him.
She didn’t hear the door opening, but he must’ve because he broke the kiss to turn. There was Babcock on the threshold, Niall just behind him, and someone beyond.
“Any weapons around?” Niall asked, obviously thinking of what had happened last time.
“Mr. McDade,” Babcock said, his eyes widening. “I didn’t mean—we think—”
“It’s okay,” she said, avoiding Ire’s eyes when they came around to hers.
“Upstairs to bed,” he growled down at her, squeezing her ass. She just nodded and wiped the smudge of her lip gloss from his mouth. His arm loosened to let her go. As she turned, she paused to tip the whiskey from one glass to the other, taking it and her purse with her. Something had to keep her company as she came to terms with the change. She reached for the curtain. “Ser…” Pausing, she peeked over her shoulder. “You like anything you’re wearing, lose it before I get up there.”
The curve of her lips was honest. How could she not be flattered by that implication? Disappearing around the curtain, she ascended the stairs into Ire’s private space.
It was unlikely he meant the tease. Babcock was there, they had an audience. Oh, God, what had she gotten herself into? McDade was in charge and, until he said otherwise, she was his plaything.
As far as the McDade world was concerned, their relationship was mutual. She could play to that. It was a game. Nothing between them was real… was it?
READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK FROM THE NEXT BOOK…
* * *
SNEAK PEEK FROM…
ONE
POUNCING ONTO HER ELBOWS, Sersha awoke suddenly.
Bed low to the floor, black satin sheets, stag heads embroidered in the corner of the pillowcases.
She was alone.
