Page 23 of Full Service

It’s overpowering.

A drug.

“Easy there, Dr. Sinclair.”

I wince and pull away, feeling suddenly ashamed. I’ve never behaved so dreadfully.

“Thank you. I had a bit of a mishap.”

“Seems you did,” he replies, placing his hands in his robe pockets and cocking his head at me.

I run a hand down my chest and glance away from him, trying to regain my composure. Seems there’s none to be found.

“Would you like to come inside?” he asks, and I say no far too quickly. Even I don’t believe myself.

“You’d prefer just to stay outside?” he asks, biting down on his bottom lip, trying to contain a grin. “I mean, the view is better inside.”

“Pfft. I know that.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “But, really, I need to go home. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

He takes a step toward me, and I stagger back, needing to keep my distance.

“Are you sure? I could give you another lap dance. On the house.”

The way his eyes twinkle makes my heart throb. And by heart, I mean dick.

“That is a terrible way to do business, Mr. Winslow. You should never give anything away for free.”

He grins at me, showing me those perfectly white teeth. “Yeah, but I can if I want to. So, do you want to come in and let me show you some of my new moves? I have a new routine, one I created just for you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? Is it because it’s unprofessional?”

“Yes. It is.”

“So is walking past the club every night.”

I gasp and glower at him. “I do not.”

He reaches out and gently touches my chest. It’s just his finger, but it makes me lose my ability to breathe. I need a lung transplant. I have some kind of breathing condition.

“Bruce told me.”

“Bruce is wrong.”

“Nah, he has eyes like a hawk. Says you come by like clockwork every night.”

If my face gets any hotter, my cheeks are going to melt off. A puddle on the floor. Who needs them anyways? The ground can have them. Stupid things.

He fiddles with the tie of his robe, and my eyes lock onto it. “Come on in, Dr. Sinclair. No one needs to know. Just between you and me. Our secret.”

But I’ll know. I’ll know, and I will feel like shit about it.

I think.

There’s a four percent chance I’ll feel bad about it.

“I have a private room ready for us.”

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