“Mm-hmm.” Her fingers flex in my grip. “Any of them more important than me?”
Dangerous question.
Not because I don’t know the answer.
Because I do.
I let go of her wrist and slide my hand to her throat, squeezing. Her pupils widen. Lady likes control until she finds a man mean enough to take it from her and smart enough to give it back.
“You fishing for romance before coffee?” I ask.
“I’m fishing for honesty.”
I say nothing.
Her laugh fades. For one second, the glitter girl slips, and I see the woman underneath. Too smart. Too awake. Too used to being looked at and not seen.
“Was it just another night?” she asks.
The room goes quieter.
I don’t answer fast enough. That’s on me.
Her chin lifts, and there she is again. Armor snapping into place. Champagne smile. Bedroom eyes. Glitter hiding the bruise before anyone gets close enough to wonder how she got it.
“Relax,” she says, tugging her wrist free. “I know the rules.”
I sit up, the sheet falling to my waist. “Do you?”
“I always leave the club before breakfast. You go back to Vice Ink before I get outta bed. You brood. I post something fabulous. Everybody survives.”
“Lady.”
She slides out of bed before I can catch her, bare feet hitting the white rug. She walks toward the bathroom with nothing on but attitude and the marks I left behind. My jaw tightens when I see them. Not because I regret them.
Because somebody else might.
She stops in the doorway and looks back over her shoulder.
“You coming?”
The smart answer is no.
I’m at her back before I finish thinking it.
She grins like she won something.
The shower is glass because apparently rich people don’t believe in privacy, and hot water turns the room into steam while Miami burns bright beyond the windows. Lady steps under the spray and slicks her hair back with both hands. Waterruns down her body, over my bruises, over her curves, over all the places my mouth already knows.
I should leave. Them’s the rules.
Instead, I crowd her against the tile and take her mouth.
She melts for half a second, then fights me for the shape of the kiss, because Lady don’t know how to surrender without making it a performance. Her nails bite into my shoulders. My hand slides to her waist, then lower, gripping her ass and lifting her until her legs lock around me.
“Shady,” she breathes against my mouth.
That name sounds different from her.
