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“Not the first time… you get used to it.”
Something compelled me to stand up, and I offered her a hand. “I’ve kept you waiting so long, you must be getting stiff. I know you like this song.”
She gave me a playful smile, rising with me, slowly, before she put her hand in mine. “You’ve done well getting to know me, haven’t you?”
“Salesperson’s job.”
She laughed. “Whatever it takes for you not to admit to it… Cara.”
She could read me like a book. I didn’t mind.
I’d never even remotely wanted to dance in a club before, but I’d do anything if it was with Cameron—or Amelie—dressed like this. It was a hazy dream sequence, moving with the rhythm, Cameron syncing up with my steps, the music and lights so overwhelming that it shut off my conscious mind and pushed me into a trance where the only thing that existed was Cameron.
I didn’t know how long we went like that, moving between the table and the dance floor, exchanging playful remarks and loaded gazes. Two drinks in, sinking back into the seat, Cameron shifted closer to me, and she slipped a hand down to my hip, and then leaning in far too close but also not close enough, she trailed her fingertips down until they played along the hem of my dress, ghosting over the skin on my thigh.
“I am not going to lie to you, London,” she whispered into my ear, her voice husky, stained with want the same way it had been at the first property. “I have not stopped thinking about you for one second all day. Thinking about the way you looked at my lingerie. You’re driving me mad.”
“I haven’t… either.” I didn’t have any control—the words just slipped out. It was deliriously good to let go, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
She licked her lips slowly. “Leave with me. My place is close.”
“I…”
“I want to have you in my bed. Against the wall. I want to spread you out on the kitchen counter and taste every inch of you.”
“C-Cameron, we’re in public,” I blurted, my face heating, but she didn’t hesitate. She bit her lip through a wicked smile.
“Oh, now you have reservations? You’ve licked my pussy on an open rooftop and you’ve been grinding on me all night, but now you’re shy?”
I swallowed, hard. I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But I couldn’t not. I’d signed this contract in blood the moment I’d stepped into the club.
“Your place,” I whispered, standing up. She moved with me, smiling wider.
“You know how to make a girl happy.”
∞∞∞
We staggered tipsy on the drinks and drunk on each other out of the elevator, Cameron looking deliriously sexy mussed with my lipstick on her neck in one spot, and she slipped a key into the lock at one door, pulling me inside before she pressed a hot, open-mouth kiss against me. My whole body burned with anticipation, a craven animal needing release—needing to be pursued, dominated, fucked. Nothing had ever made me feel this before. I didn’t know how to let go of it.
She pulled back and unpinned her wig, tossing it over a granite counter that shone in the city lights from outside a full-wall window, and she flung her glasses after them, her blonde hair falling out in an artful mess as she pressed back to me for another kiss, slipping her hands up my dress, feeling the garters on my thighs.
When she pulled away again, slipping my dress slowly higher, holding my gaze with those deep, shimmering sea-green eyes, she spoke in a voice dripping with desire. “Stay the night.”
“Stay—” I flushed. “I have work tomorrow—”
“Take off. You’ve been a good girl for so long. They’ll let you. Be selfish, London. Take off, and let me have you until you pass out hot and sweaty in my bed and wake up to do it all again.”
I bucked my hips forward without meaning to, my voice crackling over my lips. Suddenly nothing else mattered—the briefing for the headliner presentation, María’s practice session for it, it was all unimportant. I didn’t belong to them. I belonged to myself. And for right now, all I wanted was to belong to Cameron Mercier.
“London,” she insisted, driving her hands up higher to grasp at my hips, slipping under the band of my panties, and if I hadn’t already given in, that hunger in her voice would have done it. The way she looked at me would have done it.
“I will,” I whispered. “All night… I’m yours.”
She pulled my dress up higher, lifting it over my waist. “Fuck, I needed to hear that,” she said. “And I need to see you in that set. In my bed. And on my strap.”
Jesus, Cameron could persuade a woman.
I whimpered her name, knowing the way it set her alight, and it didn’t disappoint—her eyes narrowed with hunger, and she pulled my dress up over my head, throwing it over the sofa. Her lips found mine, and we moved in a trance, slipping back into the ecstasy of the dance at the club, my body lighting up like those neon shafts that cast the dreamy scenery there.
