Page 92 of Miss Trust

“I can manage food. Come on.”

* * *

I expectedto stop at a restaurant or perhaps hit a drive-through, so when we pulled up at Chance’s nightclub, I was a tad disappointed. Scratch that. My stomach was disappointed. Two cocktails on an empty stomach after an anxious day had left me starving.

“Don’t worry,” he said, taking my hand to help me out of the limo. “I have dinner waiting for us upstairs.”

We went in through the front door, and it amazed me how fast his staff moved to greet us. Everyone from the bouncers to the hostess greeted him with a “Mr. Maxwell.”

He stopped in the midst of what I’d describe as the epicenter. People filled the club. Up on stages, on the main dance floor, and in private areas which must be for VIPs, people were everywhere. The lights were impressive, glowing and pulsing with the music. It was classy, sexy, and full of energy.

“It’s amazing,” I exclaimed and enjoyed the way his face broke into a smile. “Dance with me?”

His eyes went wide. “I thought you were hungry?”

“I could wait a few minutes. Do you dance?”

He grinned, taking my hand and pulling me into the center of the dance floor. He didn’t release my hand, instead pulling me close and moving to the beat. God, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d danced simply for the enjoyment of it. The music breathed life into my body. I moved to the beat. It was sexy to watch Chance do the same. He was a great dancer. Pivoting around, I backed up to him, enjoying the way his hands gripped my hips and he ground me against him. It was so fucking hot. But when the song morphed into the next one, he abruptly stopped and took my hand, leading me up some stairs and to a discreet door. Using his fingerprints, he gained entry.

The door led to a spacious office with a huge window overlooking the strip. I walked towards the view like a moth to a flame. “Wow.” Vegas at night was a remarkable sight.

“Sometimes I forget what it must be like to see it for the first time.” Chance had walked up behind me, his breath tickling my ear.

“How many women have you had against this window?”

He bit my earlobe. “None. I don’t have sex in my office. It’s a rule.”

I turned around, looping my arms around his neck. “And how strict are your rules?”

“For you? They’re etched in Jell-O.”

My giggle bubbled up.

“But, I’ve been looking forward to savoring you all night. Having you in my bed.”

My hand snaked down to rub his growing erection through the material of his trousers. “I’ve been anticipating it too. But right now, what I want is you in my mouth.”

He sucked in his breath. “You don’t have to.”

I recognized what he was saying. He knew my past and was trying to be courteous. But I was done being defined by history. I wanted to rewrite my memories. “I know I don’t have to. But it’s something I want more than anything. Just promise you’ll tell me how it is.”

“If you’re sure.”

I’d never been surer.