I can do nothing but stare in amazement. She’s exactly the type of woman I always knew she would turn out to be. Courageous, fearless, genuine, and humble.

“You’re pretty fucking amazing.”

Leighton grins, her face flushing with pleasure before her gaze averts back to her book. She toys with the edges as she says, “I was wondering something, though…”

“What’s that?” I ask.

Her eyes drag up. Lock with mine. Her jaw sets in a determined way. “Will you ever take me back to The Wicked Horse?”

My groin tightens at those words and everything they imply. Those weren’t one-time experiences for Leighton. She loves the hedonism as much as I do.

And that opens up a whole new fucking world for me, because, in my heart of hearts, I still want her very much. But if we keep this at the club, I can continue to work through my insecurities and anger at Leighton for what she did to me. There’s something about keeping this relationship inside the club that allows a bit of distance to remain between us, which is reassuring.

“We can certainly visit again,” I assure her. “And you’re okay with that type of relationship?”

Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that a relationship.”

This shocks me. Everything in that statement implies this would only be a mutual coming together of two people, sexually, and nothing else. I have a tough time believing she means that.

Hell, I’m not sure if that’s what I want in the long run, but it seems safest right now.

The one thing I do know… I cannot imagine going to the club with Leighton on my arm and letting another man touch her. Not knowing how inexperienced she is. Not knowing I could be the one to teach her everything she needs to know.

My gut burns again when I think about the pleasure Declan handed out to her, and I vow to erase those memories from her mind and replace them with visions of me and only me.

I stand from the bed. “Get dressed. We’re going to the club right now.”



By some miracle, there’s a parking spot in the first row closest to the patient entrance of the Children’s Hospital. I’m grateful since I have a ton of stuff to carry up.

I slip into the spot, jump out of the car, and head to the trunk, which I pop open with the key fob. Inside are an array of bags from my visit to the mall.

It’s nice to have my car here in Vegas. August surprised me with it a few days ago. The man had a work buddy at Jameson who had a few days off, so he paid him to go to Denver and get my car so I could turn my rental in. He did this by secretly stealing my keys from my purse, then surprising me with my car in the driveway a day and a half later.

I can’t figure out if this is just an overly nice and generous gesture from one friend to another, or perhaps a statement that he expects me to relocate here permanently. Maybe he’s rewarding me for the awesome sex we’ve been having—a man’s version of romantic roses, except it’s my late-model Honda. Regardless, it was nice to return the rental car and save some money.

I rummage through packages and bags, putting one to the side that belongs to me personally. When I went shopping today, I did a very uncharacteristic thing and dipped into my precious savings to buy something nice for myself.

Or, rather, something nice for August.

I nudge open the bag to peek in at the sexy red lingerie I’d bought from a fairly upscale store. Never in my life have I paid that kind of money for something so small. While I admittedly like soft and lacy fabric on my body, I’ve only ever purchased my clothing at discount stores, which is all I could afford. In my past experiences, lingerie was purchased without any intention of anyone seeing it but me and only for my own enjoyment.

Not so with what’s in this bag. It was bought with every intention of August seeing it. Hopefully driving him wild, too. In my opinion, it was worth the expenditure.

August and I have settled into a routine this past week. We’ve managed to hit The Wicked Horse every day but one. Two of those evenings happened when my father was at the hospital with Sam. We spent several decadent hours each night trying out the various rooms. Two other occasions were during the day when my dad was covering Sam, both August and I were alternating night duties and only had days available. We took those quick opportunities when my father was at the hospital with Sam to sneak off to the club midafternoon. It was almost deserted and had a completely different vibe. We were in The Silo for one. There was maybe a handful of people inside, mostly at the bar sipping drinks. We were in one of the glass rooms, and we kept the curtains open so people could watch us. I felt more intensely scrutinized with just those handful of people than when it had been packed—because we were the only entertainment going on worth watching.

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