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TWENTY-FIVE
Carter
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We’ve spent every possiblemoment together over the past month. Either my house or her condo. Going out to concerts, comedy shows, golfing, dinner, lunch, breakfast... whatever Taryn wants to do, we do.
So it’s not surprising that she seems a bit affronted when I present the contract in front of her and ask her to sign it.
“This is weird,” she says with mistrust in her amber eyes, standing against my kitchen island. “Why do I have to sign this? Don’t you trust me?”
I turn her around, bracing her against the counter with my arms on either side of her body. She stares up at me and I just want to take her into the bedroom and not deal with this, but I have to. I finger a lock of light-brown hair that hangs in two strands on either side of her face, the rest of it tucked neatly into a high ponytail at the back of her head.
“Everyone who visits the Mile High Rooms has to do it.”
She points at the offending electronic tablet. “But it says in there that I can only do sexual stuff with you.”
I grin. “I added that part.”
“But who else would I be doing them with? It’s kind of insulting that you’d think I would hook up with some rando when I’m there with you.”
I try not to become exasperated with her naivety. “It’s a sex club, Taryn. After you sign this, you’re free to go there without me. I’d prefer if you didn’t, since you’ll be the hottest woman in there, but you can. You just can’t do anything with anyone else while you’re there,” I say.
She shakes her head, her ponytail sliding along her bare shoulders. “But we’re in a committed relationship, I wouldn’t do that anyway, and I don’t want to visit the club without you.”
I feel relief at her words. “Then signing it shouldn’t be a problem.” I lean down to kiss her.
Taryn puts a hand on my chest. “Stop trying to distract me. Just hand me the damn stylus.”
Without breaking eye contact, I grab the stylus from the counter and hand it to her. Then, I slide the tablet toward her. She scribbles her signature at the bottom then plops the stylus down.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you don’t have a contract to sign with the same conditions for my benefit,” she says, staring up at me with an eyebrow cocked.
I shrug one shoulder. “I already signed a contract.”
Her eyes widen. “With whom?”
“There’s no one on my contract. I signed the generic one that they require stating all the legalities. No talking about the club outside of the club, no sharing the password, no video or audio recording while inside, you know, all the rest of the stuff. Like I said, I added that last part for my benefit. I can’t handle the thought of another man touching you.”
“And I can’t stand the thought of another woman touching you,” she whispers, staring up at me.
I slide my hand along her jaw. “You’re fucking mine, Taryn. You understand?”
