every second of my thoughts for the past few nights stepped off looking sinfully sexy. Dressed in a custom black suit and stone-grey tie, he stopped right in front of us once his eyes met mine.
Raising his eyebrow, he stared at the bouncer who was holding my arm—looking as if he was upset about him touching me.
“What the hell is happening here?” he asked, his tone terse.
“Miss Thatchwood has violated our phone policy,” he said. “We’re kicking her the hell out.”
“I see.” Michael looked at me, his lips curving into a smirk. “Let go of her, Ramon. Now.”
He dropped my hand, and Michael snapped his fingers.
“Yes, sir?” A hostess appeared at his side.
“Give me a phone pouch.”
She pulled one from her bag, and Michael gently grabbed my cell phone from my hands and tucked it inside.
“Place that at the desk so Miss Thatchwood can access it on her way out.” He stepped closer, closing the gap between us. “I’ll show her back to her booth and thoroughly go over my rules, so we’re more than clear from here on out.”
The bouncers didn’t question his decision, and the hostess disappeared.
He pressed his hand against the small of my back and slowly walked me to the table, keeping his eyes on me with every step. When we reached it, he let go of me and just stared at my dress.
His gaze lingered on the low cut above my breasts, at the slit that went up my entire left side and stopped short of my bare ass.
“I told you I was coming here yesterday,” I said, swallowing as his eyes continued to move up and down my body. “Why didn’t you say that you worked at this club?”
“Because I don’t work at this club,” he said. “I own this club. And if I was being fair, I’d kick you out of it for breaking my number one rule.”
“You’re not going to?”
“Not yet.” He smiled. “I was actually coming up to personally deliver a message to your suite. The man you’re supposed to meet—” He pulled a card from his pocket and read it. “It’s from a Mr. Jameson Turner. He just called my office to say he’s still a little tied up, and he won’t be able to make it.”
“Did he ask for a raincheck?”
“I would never tell you if he did.”
I blushed, unsure of what to say.
“Would you like a tour of the club?” he asked.
“Right now?”
“Yes,” he said. “Seeing as though your date was too cheap to pay for bottle service in advance, you’ll have to wait for a hostess to bring you drinks if you stay here.”
“I feel like you’re making that up.”
“I am.” He smiled. “Tour?”
I nodded and he pressed his hand against my back again, returning the same flurry of sparks and adrenaline I’d felt the other day. He led me through the VIP booth section and into a cigar bar that overlooked the left side of the dance floor.
He shook hands with the high rollers as we walked through a hallway that was dedicated to high stakes poker, and then he held me next to him as we went down a set of steps that led to a massive room that overlooked every angle of the dance floor.
“This is my office,” he said, dimming the lights.
“Is there any reason why you need this much space to yourself?”
“I don’t like sharing.” He looked at me. “Or as someone said yesterday, I like having something that very few people know about. “
“I thought it was because you need this much space to fuck all the other women you bring up here on weekends.”
“I’ve only fucked one woman in my office.”
“Lucky her.”
“Maybe. She’ll have to let me know if that sentiment holds when we’re done.” His lips suddenly met mine and my back hit the wall. His hands fisted my hair, and my arms went around his neck.
I didn’t want his lips to ever leave mine, didn’t want him to ever let go.
He pushed the dress up to my waist, and I sucked in a breath as I felt his cock hardening against me. As I felt the thickness and the length of it.
As he slid a finger between my thighs and touched my soaking wet slit, a hard knock came to the door.
“Mr. Anderson!” It was a female’s voice, and she was knocking even harder now. “Mr. Anderson, are you in there?”
“Yes…” He groaned as he kissed my neck.
“Um, can you meet me downstairs in four minutes? A certain