Maybe it’s only because the heels I’m wearing are a couple inches taller than usual and all this height is giving me new confidence, but I curl my finger around his collar pin and yank him toward me. “Call another woman darling again, and she’ll die crossing the road.” It echoes what he said to me after I gave him a lap dance in his car. Guess that’s why he raises a brow and searches my eyes for humor. When he doesn’t find it, he nods, a small amount of satisfaction leaking through. “If that’s what you want, Queenie,” he says quietly.
