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“Jackie—my friend and a bartender at my second job—made out with one of the bouncers. She has free access,” she says, then slaps a hand over her mouth as if she’s said too much. “Tell me you’re not the owner and that the guy won’t get in trouble for letting us in.”
“I’m not the owner, but I’m friends with him.”
Neither of us has taken a seat yet, and after I speak, she steps closer, smiling. “Don’t tell him anything or we’ll lose our right to get in for free. I want to come more often.”
I don’t like hearing that. I want her, and now that I’ve decided to have her, the thought of her going out without me doesn’t sit well.
But what’s the alternative? I can’t control who she goes out with when she’s not with me. My relationships have always been free of strings. No demands, no clinginess—nonnegotiable.
Could I change that? Offer and require exclusivity for as long as she’s mine?
I look at that mouth still swollen from my kisses, those sensual lips I want to train to take my cock, and it only takes me a split second to decide:
Yes, I can give her temporary exclusivity.
“Whenever you want to go dancing, you’ll come with me.”
I watch her eyes widen in surprise—clearly a dozen questions come to mind.
I sit on the tall stool and pull her sideways onto my lap. I brush aside her thick red hair and inhale the scent at the curve of her neck and shoulder. “As long as you’re mine, I control you.”
I don’t know why the hell I just said that. Yes, I’m an arrogant bastard and a control freak in every other aspect of my life, but not when it comes to women. To control someone’s life, you need to be willing to forge ties, and that’s never interested me.
Taylor, however, makes me feel like a Neanderthal.
“No one controls me, Mr. Marshall.”
I catch her earlobe between my teeth. “You’re going to want my control.”
“No way. Actually, I have a plan for you,” she says with a slight slur in her voice, smiling.
“A plan?”
Usually, I don’t enjoy being around people who’ve been drinking, but I’m starting to accept the fact that Ilike being with her—whether she’s sober, drunk, feisty, or sweet as honey, like she is right now in my arms.
“Yes, and it’s a good one,” she murmurs, letting out a moan when I suck on the soft skin of her neck.
“Tell me about it.”
I need the distraction; I’m on the verge of sliding my hand up between her thighs right here and making her come, moaning my name.
She turns her head to look at me and cups my face in her hands. “I’m going to allow myself to have a little crush on you, William—but never love you.”
Taylor
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I practically runoff to the small dance floor after saying what I did.
William has the power to steal my breath away, and I’d be fine with that if the enchantment I feel when being near him—being kissed and touched—didn’t vanish the second he opens his mouth.
I should be happy, or at least relieved that he’s so candid about his intentions, but that’s not how I feel.
I’m about to embark on something with a man whose world is completely different from mine, and as stupid as it may be, I wish it could be some special dream rather than this raw reality where all the cards are on the table.
Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, then it’s time I laid out some of my own.
I’m a bit tipsy, but not so much that I can’t tease him.