Page 45 of Sugar

Cohen inadvertently echoed my thoughts. “You sticking around for a drink?”

Easton kept his gaze on me as he shook his head, and disappointed rejection sank in my belly. “Ready, Maddie?”

I wasn’t.

Not in the least.

But Easton clearly didn’t want to be there. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be there with me. Whatever the reason, I’d overstepped enough, so I nodded and slid off the stool.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Maddie,” Cohen said as he stood, too. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Easton bit out something I didn’t catch as the other man chuckled.

I was equal parts relieved and disappointed when he didn’t use his hand on my lower back to nudge me toward the exit. My skin already felt too tight.

Too hot.

Too oversensitive.

His touch was likely enough to make me do something stupid.

Like beg to stay just a little longer.

Desperate for cool air and space, I said my goodbye to Cohen before following Easton. Once we were in the lobby, he continued on to the other door—not the one that led to Golden.Another spiral staircase up, and we exited to a large parking lot and not the front sidewalk.

When I glanced behind us, I saw that the door was gone. Not literally. It wasn’t magic. But the seamless design of it made it blend into the building. If not for the passcode panel that was obstructed by some shrubs, I could walk by without knowing there was an entrance there. I was completely disoriented.

And not just physically.

Thankfully, he seemed to know where to go without getting turned around like I would’ve.

The awkward silence stretched until I couldn’t stop myself from breaking it. “Cohen said you’re his lawyer.”

“I am.”

I gave a forced laugh. “For a second, I thought you were a member.”

His long strides slowed, and in the bright overhead lights of the lot, I could see him watching me intently. It reminded me of the way he’d studied me while he told him his age. “I am.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

“Yeah. Oh.” A heavy silence—one I used to dream up all the kinks and orgies he might be into—settled between us before he added, “Though I’m usually here on business.”

“And when you’re not?” I had no right to ask, and I honestly wasn’t sure what I expected. Certainly not an answer.

“Then I prefer the bar.” At my questioning look, he expanded, “I enjoy the atmosphere of the club more than the specificities.”

“You go to a sex club for the vibes?”

“Yes.”

From anyone else, that answer would’ve screamed of bullshit. But I was pretty sure he was telling the truth.

That didn’t stop me from asking, “Do you also read Playboy for the articles?”

He chuckled at my skeptical tone but didn’t offer any further clarification or justification that would’ve undercut any lies.

I waited as long as I could hold off before my impulsivity took control of my mouth. “About me, uh, showing up here…”

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