He pulled off my cock with an audible pop and aimed expectant eyes at me. “You will? How?”
I didn’t fully realize what I’d said until he questioned it.
Zephyr squirmed to sitting while I tucked my cock back into my underwear. My jacket slid off his shoulders as he held himself upright. He looked refreshed, and I marveled at the polarity between hungry and full.
Skimming my fingers along his chin, I ached again to kiss him. To leave my mark and wipe away whatever the autograph-seeking coed left behind. But he was waiting for my response, so I let my hand fall away then told him, “I think I’ll start by having another chat with Maslow.”
Zephyr startled at the mention of wraith, scrambling off the bench and shedding my suit coat in a flurry of movement. “Oh shit, the VIPs!” he blurted. Straightening caused him to knock his head against the limo’s low ceiling, but the collision didn’t slow his rush toward the door.
I tried to beat him there, to hold it open if nothing else, but he was a force in motion.
“I have customers,” he stammered while spilling out into the lot. “And-and a drink order!”
My pants were barely buttoned, and I wrestled with my belt buckle as I stepped out after him. “Zephyr?—”
“Sorry,” he said, half turned while readying to bolt toward the Dollhouse entrance. The red glow of the club’s neons painted his skin. I’d forgotten how bare he was under my coat, looking even more exposed standing in the open air.
“Thank you for offering to help,” he said. “And for… everything else.” Then he spun away, nearly crashing into Colette as she clipped across the lot.
He sidestepped in a staggering dodge, but Colette caught his arm and steadied him.
“Salut, mon petit,” she said through a wide smile.
Zephyr faltered, too off guard to do more than mumble, “Um, hi. Sorry. I gotta go…”
Colette tugged a wrinkle out of his shirt sleeve, then shooed him away. “Oui,oui. By all means, off with you. The public awaits.”
Zephyr’s eyes met mine in a final glance. I wondered if I imagined the longing in his gaze, or if he saw mine. Then he was off, scurrying toward the queue snaking between the cordons and turning the head of at least one bouncer as he darted through the open door.
The burly hellhound peered across the lot, keen eyes fixing on me where I lingered with my belt undone and features slack. Colette waggled her fingers at the stern man, whose broad chest swelled in a huff before he resumed checking IDs.
Rounding on me, Colette tugged up her jacket sleeve and raised her wrist for the inspection of an imaginary watch. “Ten minutes,” she quipped. “And I did tip the Marvel. Before I was, sadly, banned from the club.”
“Banned?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Consideringthe stunt she pulled with the champagne, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Colette nodded while trying to appear somber. “It seems we are both quite done with this place.”
I grunted and looked past her toward the entry.
“Are we not?” Colette pressed.
“I…”
“Lucas.” The exasperation in her voice was at odds with her grin. “Did you pay him at least?”
My jacket and my money clip had been abandoned in the limo. The coat was empty, but the clip remained full.
My shoulders sagged as I groaned. “Fuck.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Zephyr
Reentering the club was like diving into a fishbowl. The walls closed in around me, and I held my breath. It was small. So small. And I felt magnified. Inspected by everyone. Terribly, horribly seen.
I’d gotten away with nothing.
