LEATHER AND LACE (BAD BOYS & GOOD GIRLS, #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

her face away, and continued past the doorway, presumably into the bar. His pulse hummed from the brief connection. His forehead tightened, wondering who she was and why the hell she was wearing red of all colors.
    He rubbed the back of his neck and returned his attention to the headache in front of the desk and resumed a stern hard-ass expression.
    “There’s an application and background check, even for passes. A process neither of you completed,” he informed the twins. “This isn’t personal, it’s the rules.” He’d throttle Pen the next time he saw his partner and continued, “Marty will drive you home if you need a ride. Esme...Selma, no rule gets bent around here. Anyone who tries is shown the door. No exceptions .”
    Both women clamped their mouths shut. Frowning, they exchanged glances, and he jerked his chin to Marty. “Take over here. Ladies, don’t push your luck.”
    “But—” one of them blurted out.
    Marty pointed his finger. “You arguing?”
    “No, Mr. Keller.” The girls swung their heads as their shoulders slumped, and he half-watched them being escorted to the front door.
    He turned and followed the corridor leading to the main lounge, scanning the room for an hourglass figure in red leather. His eyes locked on to her. Seated at the bar, her long dark hair fell like a silk curtain down her back. She slanted to the side on the bar stool and her formfitting dress hugged her shapely ass, resembling a curvaceous upside-down heart just waiting to be explored.
    Staring at her was some sort of dick-hardening déjà vu. Abruptly she swiveled around and even with several feet of space between them, the clash of her gaze tore through him. The skin over his body tightened and his blood heated. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d traded scorching stares with this minx. He hadn’t been this turned on in a long time, except earlier.
    Wait. Was she the same woman?
    If so, she’d hidden her lustrous long hair under a cap when they’d first met. Christ, he was sure she was that girl, the one that got away. Only now she wore make-up and provocative skintight clothing.
    Did she realize the temptation she presented to a man with his type of appetite? First teasing him and running, and now returning. One mystery solved. She’d been fully aware his club catered to singular interests. Historical building . That excuse rankled him.
    Probably just another woman who couldn’t tell the truth if she had to. His sense of self-preservation directed him to turn the fuck around. Do anything but stare at her.
    Except this was his goddamn club. And it was his job to assess members whether subs or patrons. Nonverbal cues he picked up to pair members with services, or drive a submissive to the brink. He itched to give that firecracker something she’d remember. Damn, he ticked off a dozen options that had his blood boiling.
    Silently, he ordered his dick to stand-down. A red-dress wearing woman with her assets would be a sought after commodity for club members.
    Not him.
    But just as quickly, he tossed aside the idea letting another man touch her. Especially when she stared back at him like she was ready to draw a line in the sand. The couple she’d followed had taken a table off to the side. The little spitfire wasn’t here as part of a ménage. He clenched his jaw, envisioning a night of erotic pleasure that he’d craft for her—all he needed was her signature on a consent form. A one-night stand .
    Nothing more.
    In his bed, he’d control her every move. Hell, they didn’t even need to talk. Darkly, he chuckled to himself. As punishment for lying to him earlier, he’d prevent her from speaking. Simple to do if he made her wear a gag.
    No more lies. No pretense. Just hardcore fucking.
    With a plan in place, he crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. She didn’t look like the average Paris submissive. She sat upright, alert as though she sensed his hunger to pound his cock into her until