“You didn’t know?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

He’s right; he doesn’t. I like that about him, and I especially like it when I want answers. “She knew that you’re a member.”

His brows dip. “What? That makes no sense. The membership is guarded and I stayed out of the public forums.”

I shake my head, confused and not at all comforted by his answer. “Then how would she know?”

“Good question, and one I want answered. Members who want privacy pay well to receive it.”

“She wasn’t one of the women you—”

“Absolutely not. I chose from the club files and with great caution.”

Is this what I’ve sensed in Ava? What is bothering me? “You wore masks, right? Couldn’t she—”

“Sara. I wasn’t with Ava.”

“So you knew the names of the women you chose?” His jaw flexes and I read my answer on his face. My stomach takes another roller-coaster ride all on its own. “You might have—”

“No.” The word is firm, absolute. “I told you. I wasn’t with Ava.”

I reach out and trace his brightly colored tats. “Your ink is hard to miss or forget.”

He wraps my hand in his and pins me in a look. “I’d know, Sara. I’d sense it when I’m around her.”

My chest tightens, another part of my conversation with Ava bothering me now. “When I said I wasn’t a member of the club and didn’t want to be, she implied you gave it up for me.”

“And you’re already worried I’m going to need that world again. I won’t, Sara. I don’t. And I’d like to know what her agenda was, to make you think that.”

“I don’t think it was an agenda. I think she thought it showed you care about me, that you would leave it for me. She had no idea that was a hot spot for me. I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

“I’d rather you overreact than not tell me, Sara.” Chris curves his hand over the swell of my backside and molds me close. “You’re the hot spot for me.” Dipping low, he nuzzles my neck, his warm breath fanning my neck. “You know that, right?”

“Hmmm,” I murmur, helpless to fight the desire his teasing seduction arouses in me. “You can remind me as often as you like.”

His tongue flicks over my earlobe, and he whispers, “How about now? Have you ever had an orgasm in a dressing room?”

“What?” I gasp. “No.” His face is filled with wicked determination. “And no, we can’t.”

He tugs my top shirt up and over my head so fast that I have no hope of stopping him. The instant I’m free, I try to slow him down. “Chris—”

His mouth comes down over mine, a hot, fiery claiming he uses as a distraction to unhook my bra. When he molds his palms to my br**sts as he pinches my ni**les, I barely contain a whimper sure to draw attention.

Chris reaches for the button on my jeans and I manage a weak “Stop. You said you’d stop if I said stop.”

His deep, sexy laugh ripples through me and my body clenches. “That was last night. New day. New rules.”

“But—”

He kisses me again, a slice of his seductive tongue, before proclaiming, “You will not leave this dressing room until you have a smile on your face.” He goes down on one knee and presses his mouth to my stomach as he had the night before and the effect is just as sizzling. I know where that mouth is headed, and while my mind sees the problem with the location we’re in, my body likes the location he’s at.

That deliciously skilled tongue of his dips into my navel, and I shiver. He smiles against my skin, casting me a heated look. “I’ve noticed you like that.”

“I’ve noticed you can be overwhelming.” And playful and dark, and for that matter a mix of all things contrary that makes me insanely aroused.

Unsnapping my jeans, Chris tugs the zipper down. “I plan to be that and more before we leave.” His fingers slip into the waistband and he slides the jeans downward.

I reach for them but it’s too late to keep them up. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Which is why you need to undress quickly. Step.” He orders me out of my pants, and I do as he says, because having them at my ankles feels ridiculous.

“We don’t have time—”

His fingers stroke my panties aside, trailing the sensitive skin beneath.

“Chris, no—”

“Chris, yes,” he counters, lifting my leg to his shoulder.

“Chris—”

His mouth comes down over me.

“Oh,” I gasp, and my head falls back against the wall as he begins to lick and explore. He is merciless in his exploration, flicking my cl*t with his thumb while his tongue is delving in and out, over and around. Fingers stretch me, pressing inside me and traveling the sensitive passage. My breath rasps from my dry throat, my hand goes to his head, and he actually lets me touch him for once. This pleases me, and is as erotic as his fingers and tongue working magic together, stroking me, driving me wild.

Blood roars in my ears and I forget everything but the sweet spot he’s touching, and the next. Every place he touches is a sweet spot. Time ceases to exist and the room fades away. A tight, hard clenching begins to form in my stomach and swiftly travels lower. Remotely, I hear my own panting, the soft moans slipping from my throat that I can’t contain and I don’t remember why I should. Chris flicks my cl*t in just the right place and my fingers tighten in his hair. This spot, yes. Stay in this spot. Heat radiates from that pressure point, spreading like wildfire through my limbs. I arch against him and I pump my h*ps against his hand, all but crying out for that place just out of reach. My body clenches and my heart seems to still. My vision goes black and the first spasm jerks my body. Pleasure surges through me so deep that I feel it in my bones.