On top of that, wasn’t she just a tiny bit curious what went on upstairs?
Feeling his gaze on her, she looked up and was immediately drawn back into his riveting intensity. There was knowledge in those eyes. Knowledge she didn’t have. A man who provided pleasure for a living. Arranged it. If given the opportunity, what would he do to her? Stop. Irrelevant. She pushed the errant thought aside, but her voice came out sounding husky, betraying her. “What’s going to happen upstairs?”
“That’s entirely up to you.” His gaze traced the curve of her neck, leaving heat in its wake. “My plan is to give you a tour, but you should be fully aware of something before we go up.”
When his hand coasted over her hip and squeezed, a tremor wracked her belly. Snuck lower. Pulsed. Oh, God. She shouldn’t be allowing this. “What’s that?”
He brought his mouth within a scant inch of hers. “If you give me the slightest bit of encouragement, I will get you somewhere dark and rough up that mouth with mine. I’ll push those lips open and give it a better reason to pout.”
Their bodies brushed together, and she almost moaned at the simple contact. His words were weaving some kind of spell and she needed to get clear of it.
“But you won’t encourage me. Will you, Caroline?”
She jerked back. It was a challenge and she answered it immediately. “No.” No, she affirmed to herself. No man, especially not some cocky BDSM club owner, would be breaching her defenses this evening. Her brain was in control, as always. This response she was having to him…it had to be the atmosphere, the liquor. This place had been designed to test people’s judgment, but she wouldn’t give in to it. Not on her life. She was here for her story, nothing more.
With an alarming effort, Caroline distanced herself from Serve’s confusing, but undeniably interesting owner and glanced around the lounge. No sign of Eliza and Gavin Rossdale. The crowd had begun to close in around them, pressing together tightly at the bar. Bass pumped even louder. Several couples were making out, bodies grinding to the beat, drinks forgotten on the bar. One such couple bumped her elbow hard but didn’t cease trying to swallow each other long enough to apologize.
What was more appealing? Staying here and waiting for Eliza or gaining a valuable perspective for her story from this walking, talking paradox? After all, she’d come here to hate this place, hadn’t she? What better way to succeed than getting a front-row seat?
She tilted her head and met his challenging gaze. He expected her to decline, and that sealed her decision. “Against my better judgment, I’ll brave the wilds upstairs.” She drew her phone out of her purse and shot a quick text to Eliza. “Do you mind saying something for me first, though?”
“Depends.”
She dug deep for her best Humphrey Bogart impression. “Say, ‘Of all the BDSM clubs in the world, she walks into m—’”
“Jesus.” He curled a strong hand around her arm and tugged her off the chair, but not before she saw a smile curve his lips. “Let’s go.”
Noticing the interested looks being thrown their way, Caroline ducked her head and followed him through the crowd. Knowing he wasn’t watching and she could get away with it, she let her gaze travel upward, over legs encased in black dress pants. His backside was firm and tight. You could bounce a quarter off of it. She’d never understood that figure of speech before, but it made complete sense now. When he threw a questioning glance over his shoulder, she realized she’d laughed out loud. This is good, she thought. Laughter means I’m continuing to make light of this and seeing this place for what it is.
Finally, he faced away again, and she continued her observation. The man didn’t walk. He prowled. Like a panther pacing in front of a cage waiting for his afternoon meal. She grew momentarily lightheaded as the implications of that became obvious. He’d made it abundantly clear that she was the desired meal.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
He stopped abruptly as they made it to the other side of the packed dance floor, and Caroline stopped just short of crashing into his broad back. To her right, there was an elevator with double doors, surrounded by a gigantic golden mouth. As if by stepping into the elevator, you were being swallowed. Or entering the mouth of Hell. Either way, it was further proof the man holding her arm possessed a wicked sense of humor. The reminder was…oddly comforting?
He inserted a key into the wall, drawing Caroline’s attention away from the golden mouth. They stood in front of a different, single-door elevator, stainless steel and simple compared to the other one. It slid open immediately, and he briskly led her inside. She barely had time to register the cramped size of the compartment before the door eased shut behind them.