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"I just want to go out with the girls," I replied, feeling a hint of defensiveness creeping in.
"Why? Do you want to go to a male strip club?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Don’t be ridiculous," I laughed, splashing water at him. "What the hell would I need to look at naked men for when I have you?"
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "How about we spend the night out separately, and meet at Diamond Square later? I can get a suite for all of us."
"And do what?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Party the rest of the night away," he suggested with a grin.
"Oliver, are you worried about security?" I asked, turning serious.
His expression softened, and he kissed my temple. "I’m always worried about your security. I want you to be safe."
"I have Brenda and Raquel. I’ll be safe," I assured him.
"What clubs are you thinking of going to?" he asked, a hint of concern still lingering in his voice.
"Not sure yet, why?" I replied, curious.
"Why not my clubs?" he suggested.
"Show Me Yours?" I asked.
"I have others," he said, his tone casual.
I looked up at him, surprise evident on my face. "Which others?"
"Club North, Balance, and Ceiling," he listed offhandedly.
"You own Ceiling?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
"Yes. I purchased it a few months before we started dating. It’s been renovated," he explained.
"With an office where you can watch everyone?" I asked, half-joking.
"The office overlooks the dance floor," he admitted with a smirk.
I shivered, remembering the thrilling night at Show Me Yours when we were hidden in the office, our activities unnoticed by the oblivious clubgoers.
"That sounds... intriguing," I said, a smile playing on my lips.
Oliver's eyes darkened as he leaned closer. "Would you like to do that again?"
I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Do what again?" I asked coyly.
He growled low in his throat, his fingers tightening on my hips. "Don't play dumb with me. You know what."
I stifled a groan, memories flooding back. That night was when I really knew Oliver loved me. He didn't care that I was a sweaty mess or that my eyeliner had made me look like a raccoon. He just wanted me.
Licking my lips, I whispered, "Sex while the music pulses against the walls?"
Oliver's breath hitched. "My office isn't as soundproof," he admitted, "but no one will hear a thing with the music."
I pretended to consider it, tapping a finger against my chin. "I'll think about it."
"Does that mean you want to go out as one group?" Oliver asked, hope coloring his tone.
