"Babe, I gave you a credit card for a reason."

Juliette rolls her eyes while smiling, and I squeeze her hand.

"I know. But I've already put the summer semester tuition on the card. And books. Also food, a few things for the house and," she pauses, and grins saucily, "lingerie, like you suggested."

We're wandering around one of Miami's trendy new "food halls" after stuffing ourselves full of the best pizza I've had in a while. I heard about this place from Zoe and thought Juliette would like it. There are different food and drink counters, a bakery, a place to buy kitchen stuff and a florist.

Truthfully, I'm a little lost here — in the past, Zoe's been the one to deal with my household needs, usually when she was home from school on break — but I'm content to enjoy Juliette's happiness as we walk around. I've never done this kind of shit with a girl before, and something about the two of us, holding hands and looking at spatulas and potholders is making me feel uncharacteristically gooey.

Thank God Matthew's not here to see this.

"What are you grinning about?" Juliette presses herself against me and stands on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek.

"Nothing. Just watching you."

It dawns on me that perhaps Juliette wants to decorate the condo with her own style, and I hold up a red and orange striped placemat and napkin set that she'd been admiring.

"How 'bout we buy these? They're nice." I wasn't sure if they were nice at all, but I figured Juliette would know. This was clearly in the realm of girl stuff to me. "If you want something, I'll buy it for you. You don't have to use the card. How about that?"

She scowls and shakes her head while running her fingers over a two hundred-dollar gift basket filled with olive oil. "It's all so expensive. That set you're holding is sixty bucks."

I shrug. "So?"

"Let's get ice cream." She points to the corner of the room, crowded with people.

She takes my hand and tugs me towards the counter. As we're standing in line, she snuggles close, brushing her breasts against me. I can't tell if the vanilla smell is her or the waffle cones, but whatever it is, it's making me horny as fuck. She coos when I plant a kiss on her temple and I have to restrain myself from grabbing her ass in that tight little black dress.

My phone buzzes, and I slide it out of my pocket it's a text from Matthew.

"Shit," I say aloud.

"What?" Juliette asks.

"Something's...going...on." Something potentially not good, and definitely something I don't want Juliette to know about. is my code with Matthew that there's a problem with the supply or sales, a reference to a song by a local DJ. I don't know if some bad shit's going down at the strip club or if he's there and wants me to meet him.

"Babe," I say firmly. "I'm sorry, but we have to go. We'll get ice cream later."

Holding her hand, I lead her to my car while she stares at me, confused. "I have to bring you home."

"Why?" she frowns while buckling up.

"Business."

She's silent as we drive, and right before the interstate exit to downtown, she turns in her seat. "I'll go with you."

I shake my head. "No."

"Why?"

My phone rings so I can't answer. It's the burner phone, the latest number that only Matthew and Zoe have.

"Hey," I say.

"I need you to come here and pick up a brick." He's shouting because it's loud in the club. I hold the phone away from my ear as he speaks.

"Why so much?"

I can hear the sounds of the bass thumping in the strip club, punctuated by the fake squeals of female joy. "It's been a good night. But I'm hanging with Alexis and don't want to be here all night with that much."

I sigh. This isn't as alarming as I thought. But fuck, I don't want to bring Juliette to the strip club. "Fine. Be there soon."

When I hang up, I eye Juliette. She's staring at me, unblinking. "What's a brick?"

"Angel," I say in a warning tone.

"I want to know. And I'm going with you, wherever you're going. I'll stay in the car."

I stare at the road, doing a mental calculation. It'll only take me a few minutes to run into the club, find Matthew, get the money, and leave. I can leave Juliette in the car, then we go to my house after. Zoe's on a weekend trip to New York, so Juliette and I will have the house to ourselves.

A vision of a naked Juliette in my pool pops into my head. Plus, I like my bed better than hers.

"Okay. But we're going to my house after."

* * *

"So, what is a brick?" Maybe I'm pushing it by asking this question twice.

Why am I all of a sudden so curious about what's going on with Griffin? I should distance myself and let him do his business. But the look on his face when he got that text, determined and hard, made me insanely curious. His demeanor changed from the kind, thoughtful Griffin to something different.

Something dangerous. Even his eyes hardened and darkened to a glittering topaz hue.

"You really wanna know?"

I nod. We're somewhere in the north part of the county now, on an unfamiliar street. Unfamiliar to me, anyway. Griffin isn't even using the GPS on his phone to navigate.

"It's a stack of money. Two-fifty."

"All this seriousness for two hundred-fifty dollars? Weird."

"Two hundred and fifty thousand."

His tone is even, and my veins turn icy. It's definitely time to stop asking questions now, because I don't want to know what Griffin's had to do to earn that amount of money. "Oh."

I do some mental calculations as Griffin slows the car. My mom made thirty thousand a year and we barely scraped by. We're about to pick up eight years of her salary. Holy crap. While I rearrange my mind to process this information, we pull into a crowded parking lot and I stare out the window at the sign, which has the silhouette of a woman hanging onto a pole. "Is this a strip club?"

"Yeah." he says in an even tone. "I'll be only five minutes. Lock the doors."

"No. I'm going in with you." My voice is sharper than I intended, and Griffin raises his eyebrows.

"You don't want me going in alone, is that it?" A little smile plays on his lips.

I shrug.

"Okay, Juliette. But..."

He kills the ignition. "Don't hold anything you see in there against me, okay? This isn't me. This isn't my scene. This is business."

I swallow and nod.

Once we get inside, it's difficult to believe that this isn't his scene, because he literally knows everyone from the moment we hit the door. Every bouncer, every coat check girl, every bartender and waitress and every ... stripper.

Gorgeous, half naked women are everywhere, dressed in sparkly little outfits and teetering on clear lucite heels. Men are laughing, shouting, throwing fistfuls of cash at the girls. The crowded club is both decadent and repellent. And super interesting, from a people-watching perspective.

"Where's Matthew?" Griffin shouts at a bouncer.

"He's in the back. Said you should wait in the VIP. Follow me."

The bouncer — I swear, they're all starting to look alike — leads us up a couple of steps to a cordoned-off area. Griffin takes a wad of cash out of his wallet and hands him a fifty. All this cash, all this money, is making me a little woozy, and I sink onto a red velvet sofa.

"We won't be long." Griffin sits next to me and puts his arm around me. "Kiss me."

Turning my head, I lean into him and give him a chaste kiss. Considering that the women here are lying on their backs, legs spread in the air, fully naked, anything I do will have the sex appeal of a cold cup of coffee.

As if by magic, a waitress appears with champagne.

"You want?" Griffin asks me.

I shrug. "Sure." At least I'll have something to drink while observing all this. Fortunately, our VIP area is set back, in the shadows. We have a view of the club and the stage, but we're tucked away. Still, I'm trying to act casual and cool.

It's like one of those crazy late-night TV shows. That's all it is.

I'm sipping my champagne when the most curvy woman walks into our area. Her hair is long, straight and neon pink — it has to be a wig — and her body is thicker than mine. She's also wearing a tiny black bra that barely covers her large breasts and black shorts. Or maybe they're underwear. And patent leather, over-the-knee boots.

I'm staring at the boots and wondering if her feet are uncomfortably hot, when she stands in front of us and cocks her hip.

"You wanna have some fun?"

I look up, expecting her to be talking to Griffin. But no, she's staring right at me.

"Uh?" I blink. What?

She grins. "Griffin, who's this? She's gorgeous."

"Hey Carla. This is Juliette. My girlfriend."

Her bright pink mouth forms an o. "Miracles never cease. Well, if you want to watch your girlfriend have a good time, Griff, you know where to find me. If I recall, you enjoyed that sort of thing before you settled down."

I watch in shock as she struts off, her long pink mane swaying against her back. I turn to Griffin. "What did she mean by that? Did she want to give me a lap dance? Why did she say that about miracles? Did you have threesomes? How is her butt so round? And is that her real hair?"

Griffin laughs so hard he has to set his champagne down. "You're the best, you know that?"

"What?" I'm scowling. "Why are you laughing? I'm serious? Threesomes?"

"I told you not to hold any of this against me." He runs his hand through his hair.

I'm trying to squelch the bubbles of jealousy fizzing in my stomach. "Do girls get lap dances?"

Chuckling softly, he leans in and presses his lips against mine, but I don't return the kiss.

"Yes, girls get lap dances. Couples come here often. No, that's probably not her real hair. And she said it was a miracle because I don't ever introduce anyone as my girlfriend."

My scowl blooms into a teasing smile. "Did you want me to get a lap dance from her? Or have a threesome?"

He shrugs. "No. I don't want a threesome. Sharing each other isn't an option. But if you really wanted a lap dance, I'd be open to discussing. Do you want to?"

I shake my head, my mind blown. I'd never thought about such things, truthfully.

"Juliette, you need to tell me what you want, sexually and otherwise. Then we can discuss it together and see what we're both comfortable with, okay?" He tucks my hair behind my ear. "I want us to be honest with each other."

I raise my eyebrows, as if to say, how can we be fully honest with each other if you're hiding your illegal business from me?

He rolls his eyes. "Honest with each other about our desires and wants. And our expectations of each other. Our relationship."

"My expectation is that we're faithful to each other." I can't believe we're having this conversation in a strip club.

"That's my expectation too."

My chest relaxes a little. "Does this stuff turn you on? What do you want? Do you want me to dance for you like this?"

"Here?" he motions in a circle with his finger and his eyes widen in shock.

"Well, no. Not here." I laugh.

A grin slowly spreads on his face. "I wouldn't complain if you wanted to give me a private dance back at my house."

I sip my champagne coyly. Something about being around these women embracing their raw sexuality was giving me ideas. Things to explore. Things I've never thought of, like lap dances. It all seems absurdly fun, and I giggle out loud. "I guess I need to pay attention and learn a few tricks."

Over the next several minutes, I try to forget about why we're here — because Griffin is picking up wads of money that's connected to drugs — and study the people instead. It's fascinating, in a raunchy kind of way. The strippers are frighteningly bendy, and I marvel at how one woman spins around on the pole without falling on her face.

It's not exactly sexy here — everything is so bold and in your face, from the colors to the boobs to the leering men — but there is a taboo, naughty vibe that's thrilling. I probably would never admit it to anyone, but it's a little bit of a turn-on, sitting here with Griffin amidst this debauchery. Especially since he's touching me and kissing me here in the open. I also have the satisfaction of everyone seeing us together—and that I'll wake up in his arms in the morning. Still, I feel a flash of heat on my skin, and I put my hair into a ponytail. My hair's as long as many of the strippers', except that it's real, and wavy, and not at all sleek.

When Matthew joins us, his eyes almost bug out when he sees me.

"It's fine," Griffin says, pulling me close.

"Sorry to interrupt your night. I didn't want to carry this around." Matthew hands Griffin a black duffel bag. Apparently that's our cue to leave because Griffin stands.

"C'mon," he says with a grin.

"You in a hurry for some reason?" A group of men are gathered around the exit, talking loudly, and we're forced to stop and wait.

Griffin slides his hand down my back to my butt and grabs, hard, while murmuring in my ear. "I am in a hurry. The most beautiful girl in the world promised me a lap dance."

His words make me shimmer with desire, and on the drive to his house, I'm silent and squirmy. Maybe it's because we'd just been in a hypersexual place, but the air in the car is thick with the electric current of desire. Will I make a fool out of myself at his house? Will I laugh? Will he?

We arrive at his condo, park the car, and ride the elevator up, all without touching. I haven't been to his house since the party, because since I moved out of the house — God, I still can't quite believe I'm on my own, am living this life — he's been coming to my place.

Tonight, his living room is cool and hushed. The sleek furniture and tall windows look a lot less intimidating the night of the party.

"Let me take care of this," he says, holding up the duffel bag. "Could you get me a beer? And something for yourself, if you want?"

He disappears into a room, and I take this opportunity to peek in his kitchen. The fridge is filled with normal stuff; eggs, bacon, yogurt, milk. Given the surroundings and his wealth, I guess I expected something different. I pull out two beers, then slide a drawer to look for an opener. Instead of utensils, I find a plastic zip-top bag filled with empty pill capsules.

Yikes. What are these for?

I shut the drawer quickly and look in another, exhaling with relief when I see spoons, forks, knives and an opener.

"Ah, good, you found everything." He's barefoot, in the living room, fiddling with a wireless speaker. "I'm putting on some music."

I join him with the beers and we clink the glass together. I'm not going to tell him I've never had beer, and I won't let him know I think it tastes like a skunk's foot.

He lowers his head to kiss me with soft lips, and slides his tongue into my mouth. He explores sensually, gently, and I feel my insides melt. He tastes like beer, but better than the liquid I'd just drank.

When he breaks away, he walks to the low-slung sofa and sits. He takes a phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen. The low beat of a deep house track fills the room, and he sprawls on the sofa, staring at me with pure lust in his eyes. He looks like the men in that club, only he's fixated on me.

He takes a sip of his beer, then grins and cocks an eyebrow.

I know what I promised, and I know what he wants. So I set my beer on a table and begin to shake my body, trying to mimic some of the moves I'd seen earlier. I'm shy at first, but the way he eagerly licks his lips and nods, emboldens me enough to strip off my dress and sway in my new, black bra and panty set.

When I get closer to him, I undo my ponytail and shake my hair. Then I writhe and grind against his body, my nipples hard, the space between my legs wet. I turn and stick out my butt, bending and squatting against his erection. Another turn and I'm on his lap, skimming my lips up his neck as he groans.

I thought I might feel weird or dirty doing this. But Griffin's enjoying it so much, and I am as well, that it's like a game between us.

"My beautiful angel likes to tease," he whispers. I'm straddling him, and he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me away from his neck, so that I'm looking into his intense eyes. "You know I love you, right? You know that?"

He loves me.

I open my mouth in astonishment. I've never felt so powerful, so adored, so ecstatic.

"I love you too," I whisper.

As I dance and grind, tease and touch, sway and strip, I realize two things.

I have always loved Griffin Davis.

And I'm willing to risk everything for him.

____