Page 11 of Never Say Never

"I mean, you getting to screw your boss."

Paul choked on the margarita. I reached over and slammed my hand on his back as he tried to draw in air. Finally, he wiped at his mouth and straightened up before he glared at me.

"What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"It was a simple question," I said.

"Was it? Who was talking about screwing you? Why would you just bring that up?"

I shrugged. "I'm observative. Yes, you joke about it a lot, but tonight, it's more so in your eyes. I can see you wondering if you have a chance to get me into bed."

Paul's jaw dropped, and I chuckled as he was rendered speechless. God knew that was a very rare thing. I enjoyed the way he squirmed around in his seat now.

"So, are you going to answer the question?" I asked.

"What was it again?"

I laughed. "Are you trying to screw me like I'm some type of goal? What? Do you get bragging rights at work the next day?"

Paul scoffed. "What do you think I am?"

"A..." I chose my words carefully. "I think you're someone who likes to conquer things. People."

"And if I was, you would have a problem with that?"

"Who wouldn't?" I asked, raising a brow.

Paul's signature smirk returned. "You'd be surprised. Most people want me because I'm a fun night, a bit of a break in their otherwise boring or depressing worlds. I like that. Anything more and I become a man no one would want to deal with."

"What does that mean?" I implored.

He turned to face me fully. "It means I like what's mine, to be mine. And when I care, I really fucking care. You like your freedom, right?" When I nodded, he smiled once more, but it was disconnected from his eyes. "If you were mine, I wouldn't give it to you. I don't give a damn. I would want you near me every single day and night. I would consume you. Most people can't handle that."

I stared at him, searching his face to see if he was joking around again. What I saw back was complete and utter seriousness. A nervous wave of excitement traveled through my body. I grabbed my drink, swallowed some, and hummed in appreciation. It was good. This was... fun.

"Let's dance some more," Paul said as he took my hand. "Come on, you're not tired already, right?"

It was my turn to scoff. "You keep insinuating that I'm some old man that can't match every bit of energy you give out. You're mistaken."

Paul whistled. "Look who's got a little danger in him after all."

That's not the only thing I'd like in me.

I paused at my own thoughts. As if Paul had read my mind, he laughed and dragged me onto the dance floor. Between the drinks and the dancing, my solid stance of "no way in hell" was softening. Paul didn't need to be in my bed every night or wake up there every morning. Maybe just one night, just one chance to explore who I was could be all I needed. I was forty-six years old. Shouldn't I at least have a chance to figure myself out? Besides, it wasn't like I'd ever seen anyone give Paul a bad review.

"Follow me!" Paul called over the music as the last song petered out only to be threaded into a new one.

"Where are we going?"

When he didn't answer, I hesitated. As he moved through the crowd, however, I went with him. We both slipped into the bathroom and Paul stepped into a stall. As I moved closer, he dragged me inside, shoved my back against the wall and closed the door. As the lock flicked, my heart leaped into my throat. The world was fuzzy around the edges, soft and inviting in a way it shouldn't be inside of some dingy nightclub bathroom.

"What are we doing in here?"

"Having a little fun." Paul laughed as he pressed up against me. He reached between us and I felt the snap of my jeans as they came undone.

I sucked in a breath. "Paul."

"Hmm?"