The last thing I expected to find in my dossier was sexy stockings, a plane voucher to London and an invitation to dance at a gentleman’s club. I’m a quiet museum curator for God’s sake. No way, no how am I going to slide down a pole for a bunch of over privileged, narcissistic men—until I see Sean Fraser, my childhood crush, enter the establishment. Since I’m no longer that overweight teen with braces and mousey hair, there is no way he’ll recognize me. Hmmm… Maybe I’ll give him a fake name—and a private dance. That ought to make him finally notice me, right?
What the hell is Kennedy Lane doing sliding down a pole in a private Gentlemen’s club? I’m not sure, and while I know she’s hands off, I want her. I’ve always wanted her. She might have been too young for me back in the day. Now, not so much. Hands off leads to hands on after a private dance, and while Kennedy spends the weekend pretending to be someone she isn’t, I know full well who she is. And I’m not quite ready to let her hang up her stockings when the show is over.
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Oh. My. God.
I’ve heard the term fucked silly before, but until last night, I had no idea what it meant. Now, I do, because instead of putting sugar in my coffee, I grabbed the salt packet and added it. But I don’t care that Sean fucked me senseless and I’m messing up the most menial task. Zero brain cells this morning is a small price for the three orgasms he gave me last night. Talk about epic sex. If only I could wipe the stupid smile off my face.
Honestly, I can’t freaking believe he tied my hands—spanked me, even. I never expected that. But holy hell, it was hot.
I’d sneaked out in the middle of the night after he fell asleep. If I know what’s good for me, I’ll jump on a plane today and get the hell out of London while the getting’s good. Any more time with him and it’s quite possible I could want more. But heck, we agreed to a one-night affair, and he doesn’t know who I am, anyway.
I gesture to the waiter for a fresh cup of coffee and peruse the brochures I’d grabbed from the front lobby. But in my peripheral vision, I spot Sean and the man he was with the day I arrived entering the hotel’s dining room. Heat moves through me as his gaze slides over mine, and when his mouth quirks in a smile and he runs his hand down his tie, I quiver deep between my legs.
Oh, God, who do you think you’re kidding, Kennedy? You do want more.