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“I’m not her type, if you know what I mean,” he offers, his voice low and serious now.
“Really?” I ask, glancing back up.
He nods. “Oh, yeah. Didn’t you hear the comment about her not liking dicks?”
“Sure, but I thought she meant assholes—because who likes those?”
He shakes his head. “Nope,actualdicks.”
“Huh,” I say, my mouth dropping open. “I never would have pictured that.”
“You picture that sorta thing often?” He quirks an eyebrow.
“I mean—no. Not that I wouldn’t. Or that there’s anything wrong with … That’s not what I—” My entire body goes rigid and my blood pulsates, hammering in spots that really need no extra awareness.
His laughter returns and he stands up, then walks over to his door and shuts it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna lock this to keep out any more distractions.”
I nod, shifting in my seat, and thankful for the redirection.
When he returns, instead of having the desk as a barrier, he pulls the chair next to me around, so it’s facing my direction, and he takes a seat. I shift slightly so I’m facing him, too.
After a few seconds, he reaches out, placing a hand on my knee. Instantly, it feels as though my entire leg is on fire as his touch ignites a chain reaction in me.
I suck in a breath, trying not to freak.
“What I’m about to tell you, very few people on the whole planet are aware of,” he whispers.
I blink hard, trying to focus on his words and not his touch. “Okay.”
His eyebrows knit together and he takes a deep breath. But his hand is still on my knee and I don’t think I can remember how to breathe.
“Remember those rooms on the upper level? The VIP rooms?” he begins.
I nod. “Yes.”
His eyelashes flutter wildly across his cheeks as he drops his gaze to where his hand touches my knee. After a beat, he finally whispers, “They’re meant for hookups.”
I narrow my gaze. “Hookups? Like …a sex clubkind of thing?”
He winces slightly. “Not exactly. But sorta.”
“Are sex clubs even legal in Wisconsin?” I respond, trying to wrap my brain around what’s happening.
“There’s no money exchanged for what happens here. So, yes. What happens in the VIP rooms are legal,” he says, meeting my gaze. His eyes practically burn a hole straight through me.
“Okay,” I breathe, not fully comprehending what’s going on. “Why did I need to know this?”
Because let’s face it, I kind of wish I didn’t.
London’s tongue snakes across his lower lip and he inhales through his nose.“Because the event you’re going to be planning is for theUpper Tier.”
“Is that what you call the people who—” I begin, not able to bring myself to say the rest.
He nods.
London is the manager of a sex club.
The thought barrels through my head and does strange things to my insides. I don’t know whether to be repulsed or turned on—or mortified that I’m even considering those as my only options.
