Page 151 of To Tango, with Desire

“This.”

I picked her up and carried her to my desk. “I can’t wait. I wanted to seduce you until you were begging me, but I think I’ll fucking lose my mind if I don’t have you now.”

“Good. I can’t wait either.” Amira shifted off the desk. “But I want it like this.”

She slipped off her own underwear then turned, dragging up her skirt so that her ass was on display.

“I’ve got a few amendments to the proposal,” she murmured over her shoulder.

I stroked her, hastily freeing myself. Reaching down, I opened a drawer, taking out the packet of condoms. I had wanted to come prepared.

“I’m happy to discuss it.” I gripped her hips, sliding into her until I was buried deep. She was hot as fuck, bared to me like this. I slapped her ass, loving the soft mewling sounds she made at the back of her throat.

Amira gasped, clawing at the desk for purchase as I fucked her. “Let’s hope you don’t do these types of deals every day.”

“Only with you,” I murmured.

It was time to begin negotiations.

THIRTY-EIGHT

ZANE

Call Kade .

The thought circled around my brain all morning. It plagued me through every meeting, every conversation, every fucking time I signed a contract.

Having had enough of my thoughts, I left work that afternoon in a foul mood, determined to see Kade. It may be a week until Christmas, but I was in no mood for celebrating. I’d visited his home twice a week, trying to talk to him, trying to understand why the hell he’d gotten himself in so deep again. But every time, I’d been met with silence.

Either he hadn’t been home or he didn’t want to see me.

That didn’t take away the sick feeling I had every time I thought about him, high and off his head on drugs.

I wanted to hate him. To blame him for fucking everything up. Again.

But every time I thought about Kade, I pictured Omar silencing him with money, forcing him to keep secrets. To lie.

So I visited him every week, not because of some obligation to his dead father, but out of concern. For my friend.

As usual, I rang the bell, knocked on the windows, hollered his name. Anything to get his attention. Even though his car was in the drive, there was nobody home.

“Christ.”

He needed help. And I needed answers.

If this letter really did exist, then I wanted to see it. Frustrated, I walked over to Kade’s vehicle, hoping to find some kind of clue. I found a hand instead.

Please don’t be dead. Please, God, be alive.

Racing around, I opened his car door. He was slumped along the passenger seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel. The smell emanating from the interior was enough to make my eyes water. It was hot and he looked dehydrated, but when I checked, there was a pulse.

“Kade! Kade, wake up!”

It took a few minutes to rouse him, and spying a half-empty bottle of water in the back seat, I splashed some on his face, helping him sit up.

He blinked, slowly coming to. His lips were cracked and blistered and his face looked almost gray in the afternoon light.

“You okay?”