“Hear this, Sloane, if I wanted an audience I know where to find it. I thought I made myself clear I understood where you’re at. But since I didn’t, I’ll say it plain—you and me, we don’t fuck in public. I don’t share what you give me with anyone. Not them watching. Not them joining. And I sure as fuck don’t want to watch you with another man or woman. That goes for tonight or any night. So you get a hankering to change up what you’ve been doing and you want to give one of the playrooms at the club a try you tell me so I can steer clear.”

Whoa.

Wait.

What?

“But you said—”

I didn’t finish. Not because I didn’t have very important topics to cover but because Adam’s mouth slammed down on mine and I lost my train of thought. Then his tongue pushed into my mouth, and I was just plain lost. It took less than a second for the kiss to go from something necessary to instigate my plan to the best kiss of my life. It was deep and wet and demanding but still managed to be beautiful. And since I was so far gone in my delusion it felt real.

Me and Adam.

Just the two of us.

Nothing between us.

The kiss was so good my hands went to the back of his neck and laced together. His hands cupped my behind, but they were not still. I could feel the material of my sundress inching up the back of my thighs until he had it bunched up and his palms were on my cheeks.

Nice.

I felt the tips of his fingers skimming the edge of my boy-short undies and I stiffened. Not the sexiest panties—as a matter of fact, it was mortifying. But everyone knew you didn’t wear a G-string under a dress unless you didn’t care if a gust of wind blew and showed off the goods.

Unfortunately, Adam must’ve felt the tension because he broke the kiss.

Thankfully, he misread it and suggested, “Your room.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a suggestion as much as it was a command. Adam dropped the hem of my dress, stepped back, nabbed my hand, and dragged me across the living room to the short hall and opened the door to the bathroom. He saw it wasn’t my room and tugged me farther until he reached another door and opened the closet.

“Jesus,” he grumbled and kept walking.

As they say, the third time was the charm. He pushed open the door and flipped on the light which, thank the good Lord only lit one small bedside lamp with low voltage, not a blinding overhead light that would highlight my every flaw.

Then my dress was gone.

G.O.N.E.

I didn’t know how it happened so quickly but the last I saw of it was the pastel yellow fabric sailing through the air before it landed on the carpet. But I didn’t get a chance to contemplate how Adam had managed the maneuver, or if I thought it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me, or if it disturbed me that he was a master, and how many women he had to have practiced that on to get to the level of skill. And I wasn’t able to contemplate that because I was on my back on my bed with Adam’s mouth between my legs and I was contemplating something new.