Page 25 of Keep Him Like Secrets

Care to do some club research with me tonight?

The answer came back just as I was walking past my doorman.

What kind of research? Where?

There were a thousand ways I could have answered that. All of them being more professional than what I’d landed on.

Meet me at Bar B at nine. Wear something club appropriate.

I waited for her answer—a thumbs-up emoji—before tossing my phone on my kitchen counter and making my way toward the primary bedroom, peeling off layers of clothes as I went.

I thought maybe a shower would help clear my head. But as soon as I was under the spray, all I could think of was what Saff might look like outside of those awful business-casual outfits she was always wearing.

Maybe in a skintight club dress.

Or, better yet, nothing at all.

“Fuck,” I sighed, closing my eyes, but the image was already burned on the backs of my eyelids.

There was only one way I could possibly get through this night without doing something that could seriously compromise the future of this business deal.

Even if blurring this line further could potentially make it even harder to keep my thoughts—and hands—to myself.

I tried to tell myself that it couldn’t possibly be worse than standing there alone in my shower, mind overwhelmed with thoughts of her, with my cock straining.

So I let my hand slip down and curl around my length as my mind drifted.

And suddenly, we were back in my conference room.

She was up on the table, bare naked. And I was in my seat, scooted close, my face buried between her legs, those thick thighs of hers clamped to the side of my head, her fingers tangled in my hair, her hips rocking against me as her moans filled the empty office.

Then she was pulling my hair until I lifted up, until I moved to stand.

Then she was sitting up, working my belt, button, and zipper free, then reaching inside to slide her hand around my cock, stroking me as her heated gaze held mine.

Then she was leaning down, sucking me into her mouth, moaning around my length—

“Fuck,” I hissed, coming so hard my body shook.

Afterward, I finished cleaning up and climbed out of the shower, hoping the little bout of stress relief would allow me to think straight while club hopping with Saff.

I changed into a black suit with a matte black shirt. No tie. A nice watch. The cologne I could have sworn I caught her trying to sniff when I’d saved her from falling at the club.

With that, I made a few quick calls to club owners to ensure we could get in at all the places I wanted to check out, then made my way down to the lobby, spying Calvin parked a few cars down.

“Going back to work, Mr. Vale?” the nighttime doorman, Walter—who’d apparently been working as a doorman in various buildings in the city since he was twenty, which had to be a solid forty years ago—asked as he held the door open for me.

Christ.

If everyone who saw me on a daily basis thought the only possible place I could be going was work, maybe Teresa was right in suggesting I needed to get a life.

“No, actually. Heading to meet a woman.” I mean, it wasn’t untrue.

“Oooh, alright then,” Walter said with the twinkle in his eyes that came from a man who’d seen it all and had no judgment about it. “Have a good night, Mr. Vale.”

He said it like I wouldn’t be making it back to my own bed later. I would be. Alone. Even if it would probably be smart to find myself a woman—literally any woman other than Saff—and spend a few hours trying to get this clawing need out of my system.

That wasn’t going to happen, though. Because I was pretty sure the only person who could satisfy that desire was Saffron herself.

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