Page 17 of My Craving

Throwing back the covers, I pad over to my dresser and slide open the top drawer. My favorite thong is folded neatly inside. I lift them carefully, letting the delicate lace slip through my fingers. The shimmery red satin catches the afternoon light, soft and impossibly smooth against my skin. A smile tugs at my lips. I love wearing them, not for anyone else, but because I like the way they make me feel confident, pretty, and completely myself. I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Plenty of time to shower, eat something, and get dressed without rushing.

The club is already packed by the time I arrive at seven. Music pulses through the floor beneath my boots, conversation mixing with laughter and the occasional clink of glasses from the bar. I’ve always liked it here. Nobody gives a shit what anyone else is into as long as everyone involved wants to be there.

My outfit says I’m hoping to catch a Daddy’s eye. My dark hair refuses to stay out of my face, and a fitted black mesh crop top shows plenty of skin above low-slung black jeans. A flash of red lace peeks out over my hip bones. I spent extra time on my eyeliner tonight, sharpening the wings until they frame my blue eyes exactly the way I want. I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar and smile. The whole look is bratty as hell and very me, which is exactly what I needed tonight.

I step up to the bar, the long mahogany surface gleaming beneath the rotating lights that sweep across the room. The air hums with conversation and music, bass vibrating through the soles of my boots. The bartender catches my eye before I even reach the counter. I can’t remember his name. He remembers mine.

“Hey, Nash. Haven’t seen you in a while.” He flashes an easy smile as he grabs a shaker from beneath the bar. “Welcome back. The usual?”

I nod.

“One Sex on the Beach mocktail. Coming right up.”

He gets to work with the practiced efficiency of someone who’s mixed the same drink a hundred times before. No alcohol tonight. I want a clear head. Whatever happens this evening, I want every decision to be mine. A few moments later, a chilled glass slides across the polished wood toward me.

“Good luck tonight,” the bartender says with a knowing grin. I murmur my thanks and take a sip before turning toward the crowd. Groups cluster around high-top tables while others linger at the edges. Leather, tailored suits, faded jeans, and simple black T-shirts. Nobody looks out of place.

A man across the room catches my attention. Dark hair silvering at the temples, broad shoulders, and a tailored shirt make my pulse jump until he turns his head and I see his eyes. Definitely not Duncan.

I shake my head and take another sip. I came here to get Duncan Murphy out of my head, yet apparently my brain has decided to search for him instead. There are plenty of handsome Daddies here who would normally have my full attention, and I’m stuck thinking about a man who barely speaks, intimidates the hell out of me, and drinks unsweet tea on purpose.

I finish my drink and make my way toward the dance floor. A few Daddies stand just off to the side, watching the crowd, and one catches my eye. I give him a playful smile before stepping onto the floor.

The bass thrums through my chest as I move with it. I’ve never claimed to be a great dancer, but years of yoga have made me flexible enough to fake it. Judging by the attention I’m getting, nobody seems inclined to complain.

A large hand settles lightly against my hip, followed by a deep voice close to my ear.

“You’re being a very naughty boy, teasing Daddy like this.”

Now we’re talking. I glance over my shoulder and find salt-and-pepper hair, kind eyes, and a tailored black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. Very handsome and definitely my type.

“So I’ve been told,” I reply with a teasing grin.

He laughs. “Maybe a reddening of that perky ass is in order. Teach you not to tease.”

Oh, I can work with that. I’m already turning in his arms, fully prepared to see how far I can push him, when—

“Nash!” My name cuts through the music.

Chapter 10 Duncan

Every flash of dark hair catches my attention as I make my way through The Velvet Collar, but none of them belong to the man I came here to find. Kenji has already moved toward the back of the club to check the quieter areas while I search the bar and dance floor.

I had every intention of showing up at Nash’s apartment at eight as planned, even after Caroline called to tell me he’d left work because of a family emergency. The timing made the lie obvious. He walked out of my office after Daniela interrupted us, and less than thirty minutes later, he was gone.

Then his resignation arrived, and I read the email twice before setting my phone aside. Effective immediately. A polite thank-you for the opportunity, followed by a clear statement that he had no intention of returning to Murphy Enterprises. I should have stopped him before he ever made it out of my office. Instead, I let him leave believing Daniela was something to me when she wasn’t.

Kenji changed my plans when he confirmed Nash was at The Velvet Collar. There was no reason to wait until eight when I could come to him now.

The club is crowded enough that finding him takes longer than I like. Music pounds through the room while bodies move beneath shifting lights, and with every minute that passes, my imagination supplies another possibility for what Nash might already be doing here.

Then laughter carries over the music from somewhere on the dance floor, and I turn toward it. There he is. Dark hair falls over his forehead, and a black mesh shirt leaves most of his upper body visible above low-slung jeans. For a moment, I simply take him in. Then my gaze drops to his waist. Fucking hell, he’s wearing a red lace thong.

A large hand settles on his hip. The man standing behind him leans close enough to speak into Nash’s ear, and Nash turns his head with a smile. I don’t like seeing another man touch him. I’ve seen jealousy in other people plenty of times. I’ve just never had a reason to feel it myself.

“Nash.”

He turns, and the smile he’d been giving another man disappears. The smile that should be mine.