Page 215 of Wait for Him

I do know that, which is probably why I abandon what little dignity I have left, lean down and drag my cheek across the leather stretched over her chest.

She goes completely still.

"...Are you nuzzling me?"

"I don't know," I mumble against her. "I've never been this unhinged before."

Her fingers slide into my hair, and I can hear the smug smile without looking up. "Leather does something for you, huh?"

"If this is a leather kink, I'm finding out at a deeply inconvenient point in my life."

"Well." She scratches lightly against my scalp. "Lucky for you, where we're going, the dress code runs heavily to leather."

I finally lift my head. "...Rose. Where are we going?"

She doesn't answer. She just keeps playing with my hair, so I put my cheek back where it was and accept that this is who I am now.

***

As we walk into RAGs, we're escorted straight past a line that stretches halfway down the block, and I immediately start looking around because what the fuck is this place?

The floor is packed. Dancers are working a stage in the center, the music is sexy as hell, and there is significantly more leather in this building than I've encountered outside of a furniture showroom. Rose doesn't even slow down. People move for her. Staff nod when she passes. A massive man who makes me want to tuck my tail and run far, far away escorts us to a table and then casually takes up position across the club with a perfect view of us.

Okay. That's security.

Why does Rose need sec... are those people fucking?

I look at Rose, then back at the couple who are clearly... clearly fucking in the corner.

Is this a sex club?

What in the actual good garden fuck is happening?

The second we sit, a server appears with two whiskeys and a pair of black key cards.

"Thank you, Glory," Rose says.

Glory. The hot server at the SEX CLUB would be named Glory. I'd have been disappointed if her name was Susan.

Is it hot in here?

Okay. Moment of truth.

"Rose, is this a sex club?" I lean toward her because I am thirty-one years old and suddenly feel like I need a trusted adult.

"In a sense, yes."

Okay. Okay. This is fine. Everything is fine.

"And you come here to have sex. With the, uh... with people."

"I have, yes."

Well, I don't like that. I don't like that one fucking bit.

Imaginary men immediately populate my head. Faceless bastards, every one of them. One has a mustache now. Fuck that guy in particular.

"Okay," I say.