He kissed and licked and even nipped a little at my thighs. By the time his tongue eased inside me and he grunted with satisfaction, I was already on the verge of coming.

“Kane . . . oh, God. Yes. So . . . ohhhh.”

He licked and sucked for a couple minutes and then held tight to my hips as I came hard, his tongue still working me into a frenzy. The orgasm seemed to last and last, and I was panting when my back relaxed against the surface of his desk.

“That almost killed me,” I said with a low laugh. “My God. I’d ask where you learned to do that, but that would just make me jealous.”

He stood and extended a hand to help me to my feet. I slipped my panties back on and pulled my shirt back down as he pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt and wiped off his face, giving me a flash of his defined ab muscles.

“I have to get back,” I said. “Marcus is bringing me onto a big case and we’re discussing it.”

Kane’s eyes darkened. “Is he coming on to you?”

“No. This is just work.”

He nodded, his expression still on the verge of a scowl. “I’m gonna need to see you this weekend.”

“Oh, are you?” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to fix it. “Maybe you should apologize for walking out on me, then.”

“Wasn’t that apology enough?” He gestured at the desk.

“No. You hurt me. I need words. One in particular.”

The scowl made its appearance and he heaved out a sigh. “I’m sorry, alright? I fucked up.”

I smiled and kissed him. My taste still lingered on his lips.

“You’re forgiven. I’ll make you dinner Friday night.”

I smoothed out my clothes and we left his office. When we got to the end of the hallway, he held my eyes for just a second before we went separate ways.

“Hey,” Marcus said when I got back to the table. “Long line?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” I sat down and took a cleansing breath, trying to get my mind off of Kane and back on the case.

“You feeling okay? Marcus asked. “You look really flushed.”

“I’m fine. Let’s get back to it.”

He shrugged and pulled the paperwork back out. I couldn’t help looking over at the bar, where a dark gaze on us caught my attention. However innocuous I’d told him this meeting was, I knew he’d be watching. And I was more than okay with it.

FINALLY, FRIDAY ARRIVED.

Dinner was ready and so was I when I answered Kane’s knock on my door.

Tonight he’d ditched the dress pants and collared shirt in favor of his usual attire–dark, worn jeans and a black t-shirt. He wore a weathered black leather jacket and what looked like steel-toed black boots.

“You look good,” I said, reaching through the doorway and grabbing the two open sides of his jacket. “Really good. Get in here.”

His dark eyes swept me up and down as he grabbed me around the waist. I leaned up and he kissed me softly, his hands gripping my waist firmly in a reminder of our orgasmic make-out session in his office.

“Smells good,” he said, looking toward the kitchen. All I smelled was his the leather of his jacket.

“You’re thinking about eating?” I looked up at him and ran a hand over his big, muscular shoulder and around to his neck.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He ran his hands down to my backside and squeezed. “You gonna let me have dessert first? Spread those legs for me again like a bad girl?”

My body warmed and I felt myself getting wet. His touch, his words . . . his very presence turned me on and made me bolder than I’d ever been.

“If that’s bad, I don’t want to be good,” I said in his ear. He squeezed harder, until I moaned.

“To the bedroom, then,” he said, his commanding tone inciting me further. I was hot everywhere, my arousal burning beneath the surface in a simmer that would probably boil over as soon as his mouth touched my skin.

Boil . . . wait.

“Do bad girls turn off the heat on dinner first to avoid fires?” I whispered.

Kane’s low laugh made me smile. He relaxed his hold on me.

“Let’s go have the dinner you made first. We’ve got all night, right?”

My stomach flipped with excitement. All night. Hell yes.

I turned toward the kitchen, giving him a coy look over my shoulder. “We have until ten. I’ve got another date coming then.”

With a single, unamused note of laughter, he smacked my ass, making me jump.

“Not fucking funny, Viv.”

“You like chicken parmesan?” I asked, smiling.

“I’ll like anything you made.”

Chicken parm was my standby. I’d made it many times and gotten compliments. But I still felt a twinge of nervousness as I plated it and set the dishes on the table. I passed Kane a corkscrew and he opened the bottle of wine I had chilling on the table.

He poured us each a glass of wine and we sat down. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. There was something different about him tonight. Wearing the clothes he was comfortable in, sitting casually across from me in my kitchen, he seemed more comfortable. More himself.

We both took a bite and he remarked about how good the food was. Then we ate in silence for a bit until I asked a question that had been nagging at me since the last time I saw him at Six.

“How did you know Marcus’s name?”

“Marcus Anderson?”

I nodded. “You said his name but I hadn’t told you his name.”

“I know him. He’s a client.”

“Oh.” I considered that for a second. “So he rents suites at the club?”

“He’s got one in particular that he likes best.”

“What does he do there?”

Kane smiled. “I don’t ask, remember?”

“Not asking is different than not knowing.”

He grunted and arched his brows. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“I’m so curious. Marcus seems really . . . bland. He’s just all blond and friendly. He plays tennis and reads The Wall Street Journal.”

Kane hummed skeptically. “He might seem bland, but he’s not.”

“He’s kinky, isn’t he? I knew it!”

“I didn’t say that. You inferred it.”

I finished the last bite of chicken I had room for a pushed my plate a couple inches away.

“Well, is he?”

“I don’t talk about clients, Viv. Not to anyone. Not even to Jeff, unless there’s a good reason for it.”

I sighed and gave him a mock frown. “I respect that. I’ve got the same deal with my clients.”

“I’m glad you’re not involved with Marcus, let’s just say that.”

“I thought you were glad because you want me.”

“I am. And I do.” He held my gaze and my body heated as I remembered our last encounter in his office.

I finished the last of my wine and picked up Kane’s still-full glass.

“You don’t like the wine? Do you want something else?”

“Water would be good. The wine’s fine, I just don’t drink much.”

He stood and started clearing dishes from the table.

“Let me do that,” I said, handing him a bottle of water.

“Nah. I can help.”

We stood side by side at my sink, him washing and me drying and putting away. Seeing him elbow-deep in dishwater made me smile.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“I’m not laughing.”

“Viv, what’s so damn funny?” He scowled at me.

“Just you washing dishes. It’s cute.”

Now he was smiling, too. “That’s the first time in my life I’ve been called cute.”

“You just aren’t a man I picture washing dishes.”

“What, you think I just smash ‘em all against the wall when I’m done eating?”

“No.” I shook my head and laughed. “I don’t know.”

“I really don’t have many dishes at home. I usually eat at the club.”

“Where do you live?” I asked him.

He hesitated for a split second before answering. “I actually live in a really unimpressive back room of a gym near the club.”

“Sounds convenient. But why a gym?”

He shrugged. “Just because I own the building.”

“Nice,” I said. “So you’re managing to live rent free in New York City? That’s like a miracle or something.”