Page 39 of Keep Him Like Secrets

She was completely absorbed in her search.

So I went ahead and got lost in her.

The way her eyes squinted as she looked at images, how she nipped her lower lip with her teeth in concentration, the way her dark hair fell back from behind her ear.

My fingers itched to reach out, to touch the silky strands and tuck them back where they belonged.

My hand actually lifted.

Just when she announced, “There.”

My hand dropped back down.

“Show me what you got.”

In five minutes, the woman had found enough images to perfectly design the women’s restroom. And the thing was, it was perfect. Better than any ladies’ room I’d ever designed before.

“Wow.”

“Yeah?” she asked, making my gaze slip up to catch her in a rare unguarded moment, her eyes round with hope, with—perhaps—the need for validation.

“It’s perfect. I will get someone on finding everything on your board.”

I watched her work to fight back the smile, then give me a simple, “Sounds good.”

We spent the next hour going back and forth about the bar, the stage, the dance floor and seating area, and—finally—the VIP section.

In those debates, I felt I finally got to see more of the real Saff that was hiding beneath the cool, collected businessperson she was trying to portray herself to be. She was confident and opinionated, if not outright argumentative, at times.

“Oh, good. Another black wall. I was starting to worry this place might actually have some character,” she said, popping out of her seat. “I didn’t realize edgy, minimalist funeral home was the vibe we were going for.”

“Says the woman who wanted to hang velvet drapes like it’s some sort of vampire prom,” I said, tossing the tablet on the desk where she was leaning.

“Heaven forbid I try to give the space a littlewarmth. ‘Cold’ and ‘reserved’ might be your personality traits, but they don’t make for good design.”

“So, this isn’t just about the club,” I said, getting to my feet.

“What? Of course it is,” she said, angling her head back to keep eye contact as I towered over her.

“Tell me, darlin’, what part of what happened on that dance floor last night was cold and reserved?”

Her eyes warmed at that, the pupils blowing wide at the memory.

Her lips parted twice before she managed to make anything come out between. “That was you… accosting me.”

“Was ityouaccostingmewhen you ground your ass against me and took a deep breath so my hand slid over your breast?” I asked, leaning a little closer.

“I didn’t—”

“We both know you did,” I said, lowering my face toward the side of her face, my breath warm on her ear. “Just like we both know that you were kissing me back. Just like we know how much you liked my hand on your throat and pulling your hair.”

“That’s not—” she tried again, but there was no mistaking how breathy her voice sounded.

“I bet you’re wet right now, just remembering it.” A sweet little whimper escaped her at that, her own body betraying her. “And I bet you want me to check,” I went on, my hand landing on her leg just below the hem of her skirt.

I was close enough to hear her breath catch.

“Tell me you want that.”

---