the phone and slip it into my bag. Then I turn and look defiantly at Damien, as if I expect him to criticize me for wanting this—him—so much that I’m blowing off my partner.
But all he says is, “Do you remember Germany?”
I frown. Of course I remember Germany. He’d been on trial for murder. Not something either one of us is likely to forget.
“Do you remember the club?” he asks, not waiting for my answer. “That nightclub I took you to. You in that ridiculously short skirt. That sofa, right in the open. You straddled me, baby. Right there, where anyone watching would have known exactly how I was touching you—and just how much you were enjoying it.”
“I would have stripped naked for you that night,” I admit.
“You liked the danger. Being under my command.”
“I still do.”
“I know,” he says. He waits a beat, then lifts my hand. Slowly, he sucks on my finger, sending a heated thread of pleasure shooting from my mouth all the way down to my pussy. “Touch yourself.”
“What?” I wasn’t expecting that, but even I can hear the excitement in my voice. This is something new.
“You heard me, baby. I want to watch you come.”
Chapter Six
I want to watch you come.
Those words shouldn’t hold such power over me. But they do. I feel as if I’m melting into the leather bench. As if there’s nothing in this world I’m supposed to do except experience the pleasure of watching my husband watch me.
That’s part of what’s so remarkable. Husband. So many times I think that we’ve moved past that intense sensuality that marked our early years together. That wild, almost feral need for each other. We have children now. Playdates and pre-school, dance lessons and birthday parties. We have work and Disney movies. And our master bedroom that used to have all manner of sensual toys tucked away within easy reach now has a chair that plays home to a few stuffed animals, and those adult toys are locked away in a chest under the bed.
Things have changed. And yet right now, in this moment, I remember how much things haven’t changed, too. At the core, we’re still us. And I know we always will be.
I start to do as he asks—start to slide my fingers up my leg to my swollen, begging clit—but Damien’s hand stops me. Before I can question him, he’s nodding a greeting, and I turn around to find Red coming to a halt at our table, two glasses of Scotch, two waters, and a basket of fried mushrooms balanced on a tray.
“You look deep in conversation,” he says.
“Just enjoying an evening away from the kids,” Damien replies. “A bit of adult interaction,” he adds, and I’m sure I turn a thousand shades of red from the innuendo.
“That’s a lovely watch,” Red says when I reach for my water.
“Thank you. A present from my husband.”
“You have good taste, my friend,” Red says, then frowns.
“Problem?” Damien asks.
The bartender shakes his head. “You look familiar, Mr. Stanfield,” he says, using the name attached to the room number we gave him.
Ryan Hunter—Damien’s partner and my best friend’s husband—helped me set up the false IDs, complete with a fake driver’s license so that I could check in as someone other than Mrs. Damien Stark.
Now Red looks between the two of us, frowning slightly. “Must be one of those faces.”
“People say they recognize me all the time,” Damien says, and I have to fight not to laugh.
“At any rate, enjoy. And again, just signal if you need me.”
“Mr. Stanfield,” I say after Red is out of earshot.
“Mrs. Stanfield.”
I sigh, surprisingly content despite the ill-timed interruption. And as much as the thought of sexy times in the booth had turned me on, I realize that the moment has passed, and I want something different now.
“I love my watch,” I say softly. “I got you an early Christmas present, too.”
“You did? I’m intrigued.”
I reach into my purse to find the box, but of course it’s fallen to the bottom. I frown, then rummage around, pulling out my makeup kit and then my phone. I put it on the table, and the screen flashes, the SOS-Call me!!! message from Abby larger than life.
“I think she wants you to call her.”
I wince. “I’m so sorry. I told her she could call in an emergency.”
He kisses my forehead. “Then I’m sure it’s a real emergency. Abby wouldn’t interrupt you otherwise.”
“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of,” I admit. “We’ve got several updates