“Respectfully, ma’am.” He eclipses the doorway. Must’ve snuck up here from his post downstairs. “Be you. Vale’s got her Gothic sex-kitten look, and it works for her. And you’ve got…ahem… and I mean this professionally.” He tugs at his collar. “You’ve got a slim-thick body that makes men sprung. You and that cake.”
“Cake?”
It’s all I can say because I want to believe his praise; I’ve just never done it.
I know I’m strong. I’m smart and capable. I can be a little funny, too, and I try to be kind and help people. I have my mother’s face, and she was so pretty. But my body? My curves? They make mensprung?
Vale chimes in, “Cake is your ass, and he means men want a bite.”
“They wanna eat my ass?”
Yep, I just said it.
I’m failing fetish school already.
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles. “I see women in here every day—every shape, size, and sexuality—and you know what makes them beautiful?” I blink, hanging on to his words of wisdom. “When they realize sexy is a verb, not a noun. You have tofeelsexy for yourself, notlookit for someone else.”
Vale softly claps. “Listen to the man. He’s our resident doctor of desire.”
Jace is something alright.
I don’t really know him, only as the bouncer here, but I want to ship these two. Though Vale always makes crypticcomments about the man she can’t have, and it’s not Jace. He’s standing right there and is very available. There’s no ring on his finger.
Still, I tempt, “Why don’t you come with us tonight?”
I want Vale to give Jace a chance, to give up on Mr. Neverland, whoever he is, but Jace glances over his shoulder.
The hallway behind him in this three-story, historic single house turned sex shop leads to two more lavish bedrooms. One is now a changing room with a glam table and mirrors. The other is a boudoir photography suite.
“Not tonight.” Jace turns back. “Viv has clients and needs me here.”
“Vivian is our boudoir photographer,” Vale explains to me with a knowing smile. “Our verysexyphotographer who looks like Jennifer Aniston’s twin, post-Brad era. You know when she was giving eat-your-heart-out-Brangelina vibes. Doesn’t she, Jace?”
He looks away, shrugging a shoulder. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Huh, Jace suddenly looks like…
“Okay, we’re going to the club,” Vale rushes out, bringing my focus back to her plan. “You’ll be in disguise, and I’ll be kicking my feet because my bestie is finally a freak like me!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOCH
“Hey, ladies!”
I wave at Lucy and Luna, the tatted blonde twins and extreme bartenders Mom adores. They’re an attraction at the club, flipping bottles with flair.
“Hey, stranger.” Luna twirls a steel shaking tin like a baton. “What brings you home?”
“Meeting with Mom and my shitheads.”
Luna grins, grabbing a glass, spinning it. “Well, if those men are shitheads, sign me up to live in an outhouse.”
She’s kidding. Luna loves to hate men. Fuck them? Yes. Love them? Impossible.
She’s a cold-hearted cutie who’s just a friend and knows I’m talking smack about my brothers.
Without asking, she mixes my favorite mocktail, a fizzy banana. It’s apropos for a sex club: bananas, coconut milk, maple syrup, two cherries, and seltzer for a frothy top.
