Page 46 of Ravage

I consider making a joke about her finally going along with the date idea but decide against it.

"Well, I like to run. I've done a few marathons. I enjoy pushing myself to the limit, just to see how far I can get. I used to be really into rock climbing, but I don’t have as much time for it anymore."

"Oh wow. I wasn't expecting that." She looks impressed.

I cross my arms, leaning back in my seat to study her. "Why, what did you think I'd be into?"

"I don't know. Hanging out with friends. Rescuing puppies. That kind of thing."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "I mean, I do like hanging out with friends, and if a puppy is in danger, I will most certainly try to save it. But I have layers, Imogen."

She nods. "I'm realising that."

"What about you?" I ask.

"I used to draw, but not so much since I lost my business a few years ago. I was too busy working to pick up a pencil, and just never got back into it. And I used to dance."

I shoot her a sympathetic look. "What happened with your business?"

She grimaces. "My business partner was syphoning funds, and by the time I realised it, she'd fled the country, and I was left with all the debt. I was working three jobs to try and pay the debt off and make sure my former employees weren't left high and dry. Until I met Sebastian, and he offered me the job at the club."

"Shit, that sucks. I'm sorry. Did they ever find her? Your ex-partner, I mean?"

She shakes her head. "Not that I know of. She disappeared off the face of the earth, from what I can tell. But I don't let myself dwell on it. People suck most of the time, in my experience. And now I'm out of debt, so I'm just treating it as an important life lesson."

I take a moment to consider her words, slowly realising why she’s so quick to judge others. Life’s dealt her some pretty rough hands, and it’s left her jaded.

Which I get.

The conversation continues to flow as our food arrives, and she seems to be letting her guard down as the time ticks by. I'm even gifted with a few more of those achingly sexy laughs when I describe some of the more insane stuff I've seen at work.

"So how did you come to work at the club, anyway?" I ask, turning the conversation back to her after telling her about the couple we'd had to transport to the hospital yesterday morning, when the guy had wedged a butt plug too far up his arse, and his wife had fallen and injured herself when trying to pull it out.

"Nice little segue," she replies, a wry smile playing across her lips. "A friend took me along to a club night."

"Is that how everyone ends up working there? Connell and David both said that was the same way they'd started."

"Mostly. It's not really the sort of place that just anyone could handle working at. People need to have very open minds to understand that what happens there isn't just about people getting off all the time. Sebastian and his brother have a reputation for ensuring that everyone who pays to enter comes away with all their fantasies met. Within reason, of course. They don't allow full blown BDSM stuff like extreme pain. For some of the sex workers, like Annika, the services they offer is like therapy for their clients, helping them understand sides of themselves they’ve never felt safe or comfortable enough to explore. Some of them do push the limits for some clients when asked, but most of the clients are into exploring things like voyeurism and multiple partners, as you would have seen on Friday night."

I straighten and regard her thoughtfully. "So, Sebastian saw you were fine with being watched and offered you the job?"

Her lips lift into a slow, seductive smile. "Curious about what I'm into, Cam?"

I lean forward and rest my arms against the edge of the table. Her eyes drift downwards, flaring as she looks at my arms, before meeting my gaze again.

"Maybe. I'd be lying if I said I didn’t want to understand what makes you tick. And given that you had no problem making out with Annika in front of me that night, I'm guessing you enjoy people watching you get off."

She smirks and sits back in her seat. "I don't know if you can handle all the things I'm into."

That definitely has my attention, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. A little laugh escapes her lips, a hint of wickedness mixed with her amusement.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Maybe."

I reach across the table to take her hand in mine, tracing a circle over her palm with my thumb. "If you're worried that I'd judge you, don't be. You'll find I'm pretty open-minded, too."

At that moment, the hostess stops at the end of the table to check if we've enjoyed our meals. Imogen slips her hand from mine, placing both her hands into her lap while I tell the hostess it was all delicious, before asking for the bill.

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