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SIX

Mike took a quick shower, figuring Grace wouldn't

mind. While in there, he noticed all the little doodads she used to make herself clean and pretty. Lotions and scrubby things and the like. The whole room smelled like her. Her soap, her shampoo, everything about her scent lingered in the expansive tile and glass stall. It made him want to hurry back to her, to bury his nose in her hair, inhale the woman, press his lips to her warm flesh and taste her again. His cock rose and swelled, thick with anticipation. He rinsed and dried off, then padded into her bedroom to find her already dressed. He masked his disappointment with a smile. So much for morning sex. He wished he'd gotten up before she had. He'd have liked to pull her under him first thing this morning. He'd woken up hard and aching, needing to be inside her again. As if the five times they'd done it last night—damn near all night, in fact—hadn't been enough. And here he was, wandering around with an erection again. He wondered if he'd be forever hard around her.
She was wearing jeans and a red turtleneck sweater, her hair still damp. She looked fresh and very young without her makeup on. His cock twitched and her gaze drifted from his face to between his legs. “Sorry, can't seem to help that around you.” “It's quite all right. I'd hardly find your erection insulting.”
Her tight smile was anything but genuine. Something was wrong. He pulled on his jeans and tried to wrestle his unruly dick under control. “Would you like to go out for breakfast?” She looked like he'd just asked her to witness open brain surgery. In fact, he was certain there was a green tinge to her face. She actually looked nauseous. “Uh, I can't. I have appointments. But thanks for asking.”
He pulled on his shirt and sat on the bed to put on his shoes. “How about lunch?” “I'm pretty busy the whole day.”
She was a really bad liar. “Too bad. Dinner before the club opens tonight?” “Oh, I couldn't possibly. I have to, urn, go over supply and liquor orders with the managers before opening tonight. We're woefully behind on inventory and I don't want to run out.” Uh-huh. He sat up and stared at her. So, this was what getting dumped felt like. A strange and new sensation to be on the receiving end, since he was typically the one with all the excuses why he couldn't see a woman again.
Grace was giving him the brush-off. Clearly doing her level best to let him down easy. Didn't it just figure? He'd found a woman he enjoyed and really
wanted to see again. A woman he could actually see himself with—
whether on a permanent basis, it was too early to tell, but he wanted
to see her beyond just sex. He wanted to date her, to have meals
together, take in the sights, go to the movies, just spend time with her. He wanted to see where things went.
And she didn't want to give him the goddamn time of day. “I'd better get out of here, then, and let you start your day.” He walked toward her, brushed her cheeks with a soft kiss, and grasped her arms to pull her close. “Thank you for last night,” he whispered in her ear.
Her gaze darted up to his, her eyes so beautiful she took his breath away. The wariness in them intrigued him.
“You're welcome. I enjoyed it.”
He wanted to stay, to kiss those incredibly kissable lips of hers. He wanted to convince her, to make her change her mind. But he didn't. He wasn't stupid. He turned away and walked to the elevator, pressed the button and, without a word, let himself out the door. He wasn't about to give up though. Mike had glimpsed something in Grace's eyes—fear. Something about him scared her, and maybe that was a bad thing. But maybe that was a good thing, because he hadn't actually done anything to frighten her. If her fear was because she felt something between them, then that was definitely a good thing. Still, it rankled that she'd hustled him out the door. He was always the one who ended things with a woman. Okay, he had a little finesse. He didn't intentionally set out to hurt a woman's feelings, and typically he let them know from the start that he had no desire for a relationship beyond one night or two, that he wasn't a settling down kind of guy. And if they didn't buy into it, if a woman thought she would change him or could prolong the attachment longer than he was interested in, then they got dumped in a hurry and he did it in a cold and heartless way. Because he was honest and there was no sense dragging out the inevitable.
Is that what Grace was doing? Cutting things off clean and quick so she didn't hurt his feelings? Making sure she didn't lead him on?

It felt shitty. Hell of a time for a rousing case of gut-wrenching empathy for all the women he'd done the same thing to. Nevertheless, he knew the difference between someone who wasn't interested and someone who was.
Grace was interested. There was fire between them. Fire enough to give it one more shot, anyway. He wasn't a dumbass and he sure as hell wasn't a stalker. If she balked again and showed him the door, if she sent out clear signals that there was no chemistry between them, then he'd grab a clue and hightail it out of there. But until then, he wasn't about to give up. Not when there was something he wanted.
And w
_h
at he wanted was Grace.
So he needed a plan. And that meant he wasn't going to go back to the club tonight. He didn't want Grace to feel pressured. He'd wait until tomorrow night.
Mike returned to his hotel and made a few business calls, did some paperwork, then called Denver. He spent the afternoon and into the night hanging out with Denver at one of the casinos, losing more money at gambling than he really wanted to. But he wasn't focused, his thoughts centered more on Grace than on the cards in front of him. “You're usually better at this,” Den said when Mike lost yet another hand at blackjack. “In fact, you're typically pretty damn good. Right now you suck donkey dick.” Mike pushed back from the table and Den followed him to the bar. “Not my lucky day, I guess.” He hoped his run of bad luck didn't continue, and he didn't mean at cards. When the waitress brought them drinks, Den took a long swallow and squinted. “You went to Wild Nights last night. How did that go?” “Good.” Mike downed his whiskey in two short gulps and signaled the waitress for another.
“Good. That's all you're going to tell me? Details, man,” Den said, laughing. “I need more than that.”
Mike stared into his empty glass. “Nothing much to tell, really.”
“You didn't.”
Mike looked up. “Didn't what?”
“Last night. At the club. You fucked Grace, didn't you?”
He shook his head. “I don't want to talk about it.” “Don't give me that coy shit. That's something a woman would say. Tell me.”
“I said I don't want to talk about it.”
“Christ, Mike, what the fuck is wrong with you?” What the fuck
was
wrong with him? He and Denver had shared more than just talk about women. They'd shared women. And Mike never cared before whether he kissed and told. So why was he being so closelipped about Grace?
He laid his head in his hands. “I don't know what the hell is wrong with me.” “PMS?” Den offered.
Mike snorted. “Funny.”
“She got to you, didn't she?”
He thought about denial. He was the poster boy for denial, he was so good at it. But maybe it was time to stop running from emotions. Maybe that's why he was so dissatisfied with his life. “Yeah, she got to me.” “Did you fuck her?”
“No. I made love to her.”
“Jesus Christ. It's even worse than I thought.”
He smiled and raised his head, looked at Den. “She's something special.” “She's just another pussy, Mike.”
Had he ever been that much of an asshole? Yeah, he had. He'd
never cared before. Women had meant nothing to him but a good
fuck. He couldn't be mad at Den for acting like Den—hell, for saying the same thing he might have said yesterday. One night with Grace and suddenly he'd developed a conscience. Why? “She just felt different to me.”
Den shrugged. “I have no idea what you're talking about. They all feel the same to me.” “I can't explain it.”
“And how does Grace feel about all this?”
Mike allowed a half smile as the waitress brought their drinks. He stared at the amber liquid. “She pretty much tossed me out on my ass as soon as daylight hit.”
Den let out a loud laugh. “Payback is hell, isn't it, buddy?” Mike nodded, then arched his brow. “Fuck you. Your day will come.”
Den downed his drink, then slammed it on the table and signaled the waitress. He winked at Mike. “To end up like you? Mooning over a woman like a lovesick cow? I think I'd rather hang up my dick.” Mike snorted. “Famous last words.”
Leaning back and grabbing a handful of peanuts, Den asked, “So now that she's given you the boot, what's the plan?” He popped the peanuts into his mouth.
“I'll go back tomorrow, feel her out.”
“Want me to come?”
Mike shrugged. “That's up to you.”
“I've been going to Wild Nights for a couple years now. I know Grace pretty well. Maybe I can help.”
Reinforcements couldn't hurt. Then again, maybe it would. At this point he really didn't know how this was going to play out, but he was willing to use any means necessary to get another chance to explore his relationship with Grace.
Relationship. A foreign, typically unwelcome word in his vocabulary.
He almost laughed out loud.
Goddamn, his perspective sure had changed a lot in the past twenty-four hours. There was no doubt about it. Grace was pissed. The
emotion shocked her so much she almost laughed out loud. But since she was knee-deep in clients at the moment, that wasn't a good idea.
She had no right to be upset. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted. Though she hadn't come right out and said the words, she'd pretty much delivered Mike an A-number-one, obvious-as-hell brushoff this morning. She'd turned down his offers of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and all but shoved him into the elevator with her foot on his ass.
Could she have been more rude? The cold chill of fear had turned her into an icy bitch, and her normal manners had flown right out the window. She'd been abrupt and ill-mannered and she'd spent the entire day feeling awful about how she'd treated him. He'd shown her a wonderful time last night and he hadn't deserved her behavior. Maybe that's why she was kind of hoping she'd see him tonight. It was better that he hadn't come, though. He'd gotten the message, and there was no reason to prolong the inevitable. They had no future together. She had her business, which was her only goal for the future. Her plans didn't include a man. Relationships were too messy, too unpredictable.
She really had no business feeling disappointed that he hadn't shown up tonight. Yet, it was nearing midnight and she realized she'd actually expected him to show up. If that wasn't the ultimate in ego deflation, she didn't know what was.
Well, fine. This was better. And exactly what she wanted, and needed. No entanglements, no attachments, no emotional feelings for men she'd fucked.
“How ʻbout it Grace? Is tonight our night?”
She lifted her gaze to Wayne Malone, one of the most attractive men she knew. Wicked smart and a self-made millionaire by the time he'd hit thirty, Wayne had been after her for over a year now. And she'd led him on one hell of a wild ride, enjoying the game of chase and not-quite-catch. She figured Wayne enjoyed it, too, which was why he kept coming back and spending all his wonderful money at her club.
“Not tonight, Wayne,” she purred, tipping her fingernail under his chin and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “I have a headache.” He laughed, as if he'd already known her answer. He caressed her cheek. “Some other time, maybe.”
“Maybe.” But they both knew it was never going to happen. It rarely happened with her clientele. Her regulars were aware of how picky she was about fucking her clients. And the newcomers figured it out pretty fast.
But it had happened last night, hadn't it? She'd been so goddamn easy she was surprised Mike hadn't left fifty bucks on her nightstand. She'd spread her legs and whimpered and begged and damn near shouted out that she loved him. Then she'd come. And come. And come some more.
Her nipples hardened against her halter, her pussy clenching. But she felt empty. It was ironic. Wild Nights was filled to capacity; there was a crowd outside waiting to get in. And Grace was lonely. Because the one man she wished had come tonight wasn't here.

SEVEN

Wild Nights was packed as usual the next evening.
Grace was insanely busy, but still found herself often hovering near the front door. Mike wasn't coming. She might as well cast him from her thoughts and her life. It was over. “Looking for someone?”
Grace turned at the familiar deep voice behind her. “Denver!” She hugged and kissed him, allowing him to pull her into his embrace. Denver was one of the few men she genuinely liked and trusted. A regular for a couple years, he was charming, sexy and wickedly dangerous to a woman's libido. She'd never had sex with him and he'd never hit on her. His casually charming demeanor made him easy to be around. And, as she recalled, Denver was the one who'd garnered the invitation for Mike. Not that she was going to ask about him. Not at all. “It's so nice to see you here. Are you alone tonight?” Damn. She just couldn't let it go, could she?
“I'm always alone, gorgeous. Why? Are you wanting company?” He arched dark brows above chocolate brown eyes that would melt any woman's panties right off. His sharp, angular features belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, his lean, chiseled body encased in jeans and a tight T-shirt that showed off time well spent in the gym. “Are you offering?” she shot back with a wink.
“I might be.”
That would be a first. Though she wasn't at all interested. And Denver was an incredibly appealing man. But her thoughts were centered on one man alone.
“Hey, Den.”
The one who'd just stepped up and spoken. The one who stole her breath with midnight black hair and blue eyes. The one smiling down at her.
“Grace.”
She felt like a teenager, with sweaty palms and a racing pulse.
“Mike. How nice to see you again.”
Ugh. Too formal. She relaxed her shoulders and tried for a smile.
He was just a client tonight. Nothing more.
Right. Tell that to her pussy, which was throbbing and moistening and quivering with happiness.
Down girl.
Mike was off-limits.
“Nice to see you, too, Grace. The club is really full tonight. I practically had to offer up a limb to get in.”
She laughed. “It's Friday night. Always one of our busiest” “Glad I managed to pass the test, then.”
She didn't mention she'd put him on the accept list. “I hope you enjoy your evening.” He nodded. “I intend to. Thanks.”
“How about we head to the bar for a drink?” Denver asked Mike.
“Sounds good.”
“There are some beautiful women here tonight. I'll introduce you.”
“Talk to you later, Grace,” Mike said, then wandered off with Denver. She turned and headed in the opposite direction. Danced a bit. Mingled a little, all the while keeping one eye turned toward Mike and Denver. It wasn't long before there was a throng of women crowded around the bar, fighting for their attention. Grace would not—absolutely would not—be jealous. Her stomach was twisted in knots because . . . because . . . cocktail napkin inventory was low and they might run out.
Oh, sure. Because Wild Nights would go up in a ball of flames if they ran out of cocktail napkins tonight. Which they weren't even close to doing, anyway.
Disgusted, she left the bar and moved to the playrooms, checking on her clients and making sure everyone was having fun. Nearly every room was full, the sounds of sex and laughter everywhere. She stepped into a couple of the rooms, hoping to immerse herself in watching some of the action and get her mind off Mike. A woman was chained facing the wall in the bondage room, a man lightly whipping her with a leather flogger. The woman moaned in equal parts pain and pleasure as the man first spanked, then slid his hands between her legs to cup and tease her pussy. In the orgy room, things were in full swing, the tangle of body parts hard to decipher as mouths met cocks and pussys and hands grabbed for the nearest sex organ. People were laughing and moaning and having a wonderful time. The musky smell of sex permeated the air around her. She sighed and moved on. There were no problems for her to attend to. As was typical, Wild Nights ran like a smoothly oiled machine. With every step down the hallway, Grace grew more and more annoyed.
And curious about what was happening in the bar. Were Mike and Denver still there, or maybe on the dance floor with some of the ladies who'd been hovering around them? Or maybe, on their way to one of the playrooms with a few of the women.
Goddamit! How dare he make her think of him. She did not care what the hell Mike Nottingham did. She never should have put his name on the list. In fact, she should have barred him from the club. Then she would have been able to relax and enjoy her evening. Screw that. She
would
have a good time tonight, whether he was here or not. She'd prove to herself she didn't care about him or what he did—or who he chose to do it with. Determined, she turned around and slammed straight into Denver's chest. “Whoa, babe,” Denver said. “Sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, I'm sorry. I turned too fast.” Despite vowing not to look, she couldn't help leaning around Denver enough to see Mike heading in their direction. Damn. She felt weak in the knees just watching the predatory way he approached her. He was not going to affect her like this. She didn't need him, didn't feel a thing for him. He did not get to her in any way. Sex was sex and it didn't matter who she had it with. Panicked, she laced her arm through Denver's and blurted, “How would you like to have sex with me?”
“Uh, what?” Denver's eyes went wide. “Say that again?” Forcing a calm she didn't feel, she leaned into him. “I'm in the mood to play tonight. Are you game?”
She knew from the look on his face that what she was asking was incredibly unfair. Mike was Denver's friend.
Mike stepped up beside Denver and arched a brow. “Am I interrupting?” Denver offered a half smile. “Grace just made me an . . . interesting offer.” “Is that right?”
“Yes,” she said, taking control of the situation. “I asked Denver if he wanted to play with me tonight.”
Mike looked at Denver, then at her. “I see.”
Yes, he was going to see, all right. “I'm thinking the voyeur/ exhibition room, if you don't have a problem showing off.” Mike laughed. “Den loves to show off.”
“Mike,” Denver said, his gaze flitting between the two of them.
“Do you have a problem with this?”
Mike shrugged and grinned. “Why would I? Grace is free to do whatever she wants, and so are you. I'll just take a seat in the viewing room and watch. It won't be the first time I've watched you with a woman.”
“Are you sure?” Denver asked.
Mike nodded. “I'm sure. Hell, I get off on watching. You know that about me.”
Den laughed. “Yeah, you will.”
Mike was already turning around to leave. “You two have fun.” He pivoted and walked away. He was going to watch her and Denver having sex. Did he really not care, or was he putting on a show of bravado?
Wasn't this what she wanted? To prove to Mike, and to herself, that she was her own woman, in charge of her own destiny? It was necessary, for both of them, that this happen tonight. To put an end to any hope he might have for a real relationship. Wild Nights was her life—adventurous, unattached sex was what she did. “Grace, are you certain this is what
you
want?” She looked up at Denver, his gaze one of concern. He really was a beautiful man. She'd be well taken care of—and safe—with him. Which was probably why her instincts told her to choose him. “Of course it is.” She caressed his cheek. “It's been entirely too long since I've enjoyed the fun at Wild Nights, Denver. And you and I have never played with each other. Unless you have some objection.” “Are you kidding? A man would be insane to turn you down. My dick's already hard at the thought of touching you.”
She laughed. “Then what are we waiting for?”
The pang in her stomach as she walked with Denver into the exhibition room was not guilt. It wasn't. She was free to do whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted. If Mike wanted to watch, that was up to him. He was a paying client and if he got off on voyeurism, that was great. Good for him. She didn't care what he did to get his rocks off. This wasn't the first time she'd been in the exhibitionist room. Grace occasionally enjoyed showing off for her clients. It was good for business. Her clientele liked watching her. It was important for them to see her participate.
And what better man to play with than Denver McKenzie? Tall, hot and sexy, she'd stopped in and watched Denver pleasure a woman or two in the past. He definitely knew what he was doing. He had magic hands and a great tongue. She'd envied the women he'd had, because they certainly seemed to enjoy the orgasms he gave them. Tonight, she planned to do the same.
The exhibition room was set up like an open efficiency apartment, except it was just sofas, chairs, tables and a bed. Those using the room, and sometimes it was more than one couple or menage, could choose either to watch or be watched, depending on their mood. Once in there, Denver took over, leading her into the living room portion and sitting her on the sofa. He kneeled in front of her and smiled. “Relax. If there's anything you don't want me to do, or you just want me to stop, then say so so. I hearʻno' loud and clear.” She nodded, saw Mike step into the outer viewing room and cast her gaze back down at Denver. “I won't say no.” Denver's gaze went dark, his hands grazing along her ankles. “Good.” His voice had gone deep and she felt a little thrill, though she wasn't sure if it was because Denver was rubbing her feet or because Mike had taken a seat in the front row of the voyeur room.
She could see Mike clearly. He'd settled in, leaned back in one of the wide chairs, his legs spread and his arms resting on the chair. He didn't seem uncomfortable or irritated. He seemed like anyone else watching their play—interested. Several other people had started to file in and take seats, but Grace ignored them, her gaze riveted on Mike. She wanted to know what he was thinking—was he angry, did he care at all, or did the fact that she was about to fuck his friend not matter?
And why did she care? Dammit, why did it matter to her what he thought, when it shouldn't? Wasn't this the reason she was in this room with Denver in the first place?
Focus, Grace. Focus on the man you're with, not the man on the other side of the window.
Tearing her gaze away from Mike, she looked down at Denver, watching him smooth his hands over her calves, kneading her muscles with a gentle squeeze.
“That feels good,” she said.
“Spread your legs a little, baby,” he said, using his shoulder to nudge her thigh. Tonight she wore a short red dress, tight and clingy. She knew as soon as she spread her legs the dress would hike all the way up to her crotch. She did, and it did. She hadn't worn panties.
“Damn,” Denver whispered. “You have a pretty little pussy, Grace.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on her thighs and pushing the hem of her dress up and over her hips. His warm breath washed across her thighs.
Grace couldn't help it—her gaze flitted to Mike again, wanting to
gauge his reaction. Track lighting in the voyeur room showcased
those watching for those exhibiting. It made it exciting for people on
both sides. Mike's expression was clearly outlined, but once again he
gave her no clue what he was thinking—there was neither anger nor pleasure on his face. “Scoot your ass down this way a little,” Denver urged, reaching under her to cup her ass cheeks and pull her forward. His hands were warm and she forced herself to look at the man pleasuring her, not the man watching.
Denver grinned. “Baby, go ahead and look at him if that turns you on.”
“What?”
“Look at Mike.”
“I'm n o t . . . I'm not looking at Mike.”
Denver ran his palms over the inside of her thighs, his thumbs precariously close to her pussy. “Yeah, you are. I know you wish he was here instead of me.”
She had muted the sound between the rooms. It was her choice whether to connect the audio portion of the two rooms or not, so at the moment Mike couldn't hear what was being said between her and Denver. She laid her hand on his head, smoothing her palm over the softness of his dark hair. “I don't wish anyone was here but you right now, Denver.”
“You're not a very good liar, Grace. And I'm not emotionally invested in this, so quit worrying about hurting my feelings. You won't.” She didn't know what to say. Had she been subconsciously wishing Mike had dragged her in here? God, she didn't know the answer. “I'm sorry.” “Don't be, because I'm still going to make you come. And I'm still going to fuck you good and hard until I come. So believe me, baby, you have nothing to apologize for. You just look at Mike and make him wish he was in here with you instead of me.”
Denver turned around and shot a quick glance at the window, then back at her. “Though I think he's probably already wishing that.”
“Doesn't seem to be.” She shouldn't care. Not when Denver was moving his hands so close to her clit, his thumbs making lazy, teasing circles around her pussy lips. She was wet, aching, needy. “Trust me. He cares.”
She didn't want Mike to care. Wasn't that the problem? She was so confused. This whole thing wasn't clearing her head like she thought it would. Instead, she was spread out and Denver was crawling between her legs and Mike was watching. And as Denver's lips pressed up against her sex, his tongue parting her and licking against her clit, arousal flamed hot and she moaned, flipping on the button to open the audio between the two rooms. She wanted Mike to hear her, wanted him to be as close to her excitement as he could get.
Yes, she was turned on now. But not because of what Denver was doing. Because Mike was watching, and she caught the telltale flicker of desire in his eyes. And dammit, she wanted him to want her, wanted him to want her so badly that the urge to tear through the window would be so great he'd have to use every ounce of his willpower to prevent himself from doing just that.
Did he want her that much? She hoped so, because every flick of Denver's tongue against her clit was Mike's. His fingers sliding into her pussy were Mike's fingers, and the orgasm bubbling up inside her was being brought about because she was locked on Mike's deep blue eyes, not Denver's brown ones.
She hated this, but she couldn't help herself. And when she couldn't hold back, when Denver pressed his hand over her belly, his fingers pumping hard and furiously into her cunt, when his mouth latched onto her clit and sucked hard and she came, she bit back Mike's name when she screamed, shuddering and crying out instead as waves of pleasure rocked her ass right off the couch.
And not once did she tear her gaze from Mike's. He didn't move, or stop looking at her. Not when Denver dragged her to her feet and pulled her dress off, covering her breasts with his hands and then his lips, tugging at her nipples until they were wet and rigid. Not when he pulled her over the back of the sofa and jerked his pants down, grabbed a condom and shoved his cock in her, impaling her with a hard thrust that made her cry out in pain and pleasure. She wanted Mike behind her, fucking her like this, imagined his thick cock powering in and out of her with wild abandon, so hard it would make her hurt, bruising her with each driving thrust until she begged for more.