“You know that I probably would have been willing …”

“Just you, Lily. Give me your hand,” he said, taking one of his off the wheel and glancing quickly at me.

“Why?” I asked suspiciously.

“Because I want to arm wrestle. Because I want to hold it, you nutty broad. Why do you think?” I reached out and grabbed his hand and he squeezed mine gently. His was so much bigger it covered mine completely and it felt warm and strong.

“To be honest, I’ve never really done a lot of this affectionate stuff. My relationships have been mostly monogamous, but in some ways, they haven’t been all that different than your encounters,” I admitted. “I like it with you, though. Maybe because we’ve known each other a long time, or maybe there’s just something … I don’t know.”

“I’ve never been touchy feely either. I guess I like to touchy feely you, though,” he joked. Five minutes later we were parking at Inferno.

Chapter Twelve

Inside we checked our coats and I saw that Adam was dressed head to toe in black, black suit, black shirt, black tie, and he looked sexy as hell. I took a good look at his closely shaved chin and I saw him smile.

“Don’t worry. The way my beard grows, it’ll probably be back by the time we leave.” He offered me his arm and escorted me in the direction of the main club.

“We’re supposed to go to a private reception first where fans who bought tickets can come in and have their books signed. Afterward, we’ll go out and dance and socialize.”

“I’m looking forward to dancing with you. I’m going to get a little closer than Bruce did, though,” he said, smiling down at me, and I happily remembered Bruce’s comments about guys who could dance.

I hadn’t been to this club before, as it was pretty new. It wasn’t all that exciting, just your usual trendy hangout. There was the standard dance floor, D.J. station, huge bar area and lounge-type seating with lots of small tables and booths lining the walls. It was nice enough but nothing special. A young woman dressed in a devil costume met us at the entrance and escorted us through a set of double doors at the back, that I wouldn’t have seen if she hadn’t shown us.

As soon as we were out of the main dance club area, I saw a change in atmosphere. Back here, no expense had been spared to recreate the feeling that one was descending into something decadent, and likely debauched. The walls of the hallway in front of us were brick and arched overhead. It felt like we were entering into a Gothic mansion, or possibly, a medieval dungeon. She led us to another set of doors, these two with large brass rings for handles, and then we passed through them into Hell.

Before us was a large, opulently decorated, private room. The walls were paneled in what looked like ebony, and elaborate brass sconces held what appeared to be actual torches at first. I saw on closer examination, that they were clever electric reproductions, but they threw wavering shadows just like real flames. There were also large reproductions of famous scary paintings like Fuseli’s The Nightmare and Bouguereau’s Dante and Virgil in Hell. Cute place. Tables made of dark wood, roughly hewn, but heavily lacquered, were set up along the walls. Behind them sat chairs upholstered in rich-looking blood red velvet. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a huge golden statue of a dragon with red jeweled eyes. It sat in the middle of a stone well-like structure that was filled with something that looked like lava. Again, though, I realized it was an optical illusion. Adam and I just stood there for a second, taking it all in.

“Wow, Lilah, you’re into some funky shit,” he said finally.

“Well, this is different than the book signing I did at the Marriott,” I noted.

The one thing that did make it slightly less creepy, was the fact that normal-looking people were milling about among the devil costumes of the waiters and waitresses. I saw another woman approach us with a friendly smile. This one was holding a clipboard.

“Hi, I’m Angie from …”

“I recognize you!” I said excitedly to the friendly book blogger who I had chatted with online many times. “I’m Lilah Alden. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. This my uh, my date, Adam.” Why did that feel so incredibly weird to say out loud?

She and I chatted for a few minutes and she pointed out some other people in the room. There were many who were familiar to me, authors from around the area. Angie also pointed out a guy over in the corner with an attractive brunette on his arm. The guy himself was good-looking in sort of a slick way.

“That’s Tony Amato. He owns this club. He offered us the room for free. His girlfriend, Roxanne, there, is a big romance fan.”

Someone gestured to Angie and she went over to greet a new arrival. I recognized Katherine Rhodes, a local author who wrote BDSM erotica. I turned to Adam and saw him staring intently over in the direction of Tony and Roxanne.

“Something interesting about them? Besides their taste in décor I mean,” I asked.

“Just wondering why he’s looking so happy-go-lucky when his cousin is about to stand trial. There are rumors that the government has a witness who can put not only Moretti, but half of his family away. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony boy over there didn’t have his fingers in a few questionable pies.”

“Great. You’re saying that we’re at a party, obviously thrown by the Marquis de Sade, and it’s in a club owned by a guy in the mafia?”

“A club owned by somebody in the mafia? Who ever heard of that? But I’m sure Mr. Amato over there is an upstanding businessman,” Adam said sarcastically. “Who’s that other dude over there, by the way? He seems to be drawing a crowd.”

“That’s Sebastian Romano who wrote Paradise Unbound.”

“He’s one of the ‘Fiery Ladies’ who writes hot books?” Adam joked.

“They probably named the event before they realized he was coming. He’s supposedly really reclusive. For the record though, men have written erotic books before. Look at D.H. Lawrence, Nabokov, and Henry Miller …”

“Yeah, well are we talking Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Lolita and Tropic of Cancer or are we talking Fabio, the Pirate Who Ripped My Bodice?”

“Did I write Fabio, the Pirate Who Ripped My Bodice? This is a party for modern romance novelists; there are no ‘hot loins or heaving bosoms’ in our books.”

Just then Tony Amato got everyone’s attention. He thanked us, and invited us all to grab a glass of champagne so we could toast before we let the fans in to have their books signed. He explained that he and Roxanne would like to come by and personally say ‘hi’ as well. Cocktail waiters and waitresses dressed in devil costumes, with masks covering their faces, made their way around the room with the booze.

As we got our champagne flutes, Adam put his hand on my bare back and began lightly brushing his fingers up and down. I breathed in quickly and closed my eyes for a second as waves of pleasurable anticipation flowed through me. I looked up at him, with what I was sure was a lust-dazed expression, and I could see the satisfaction it gave him to be able to make me look at him like that. I pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

“Are you bored?” I asked.

“Not at all,” he whispered into mine. “Actually, I was just thinking about all the things I want to do when I finally get you alone.” My heart started tap dancing in my chest and I got pinprick tingles all over my body.

“Well, I’m bored, so tell me,” I whispered back throatily. He put his mouth close to my ear again, and his warm breath made me shiver as he continued lightly tracing paths of hot and cool sensation up and down my spine.

“I’ll start by undressing you slowly, until I can see and touch and taste every inch of you. Then I’ll lay you down on the bed. I’ve imagined so many times how beautiful you’ll look lying there waiting for me.”

“Okay, don’t tell me,” I said, swallowing hard and feeling my skin becoming flushed.

Tony raised his glass and toasted all of the authors who ‘got Roxanne hot and kept them up all night.’ How sweet.

“I’ll bet you didn’t know I got Roxanne hot,” I joked, nervously.

“Roxanne and I have something in common,” he replied in a sultry voice that almost melted my pretty little black lace panties.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to keep you up all night too,” I said with a flirtatious smile.

“I hope you don’t have to walk anywhere tomorrow,” he teased and I felt dizzy.

“I was planning just to stay in bed,” I teased back. Being Lilah Alden was a hell of a lot of fun, incidentally. Sexy flirting was something Lily Adler, law librarian, didn’t get to do all that much. “Did you say your ribs were sensitive?” I slid my hand under his jacket and dragged my fingers along his side.

“Ah! Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath and gently removing my hand. “Okay, I promise that later you can touch me anywhere you want, but for right now let’s not cause me to get into an embarrassing state.”

We were invited to go and find our tables at that point. I saw that someone had made a place card with my author name and the cover to my latest book Touch. At this party, the fans would be bringing their own copies. I just had to sit and sign them. Adam and I went over and took a seat at my table as the doors were opened to the readers.

For the next hour I greeted people, smiled, and signed books. The atmosphere got much less Transylvania-like as the room filled up. Frankly, I was surprised by how many people came to my table. It still didn’t quite sink in that I had actual fans. Adam, of course, couldn’t just sit there and be quiet.

“Would you mind if I asked you a question, Ms. Alden?” one reader asked hesitantly. She and her friend looked like they were in their early twenties, and they both seemed kind of shy.

“Not at all, go right ahead.”

“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.,” she glanced quickly at Adam and blushed, “but we were wondering, do you actually research the erotic stuff, or do you just make it up?” She giggled a little and blushed even more, glancing at her friend who looked just as uncomfortably curious. Before I could answer, Adam jumped in.

“I’m Ms. Alden’s research assistant, and I can assure you that hours and hours of in-depth study go into the making of each and every erotic scene in her books. We spare no detail. For example, every sexual position is thoroughly tested and approved for such factors as balance, flexibility, and pleasure potential.”

I kicked him under the table as my shy fans looked at each other and giggled hysterically, both turning a shade sort of resembling puce. That was just the beginning, though. Ten minutes later, a crowd was gathered around my table.

“Yeah, the shower scenes are really tricky. You have to make sure that you have the positioning just right, or you could be injured,” he explained to the ten women or so, who were listening raptly as I sat there, caught between being amused and pissed off. “And you know, it’s hard for her to get the details down, because obviously, you can’t have electronics in there, and the paper gets wet, you know?” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re such a bullshitter.” I laughed when there was finally a lull at what had become the most popular table in the place.

“Hey, I fully intend to help you make sure that all of the sexual details in your books are accurate. It’s the least I can do.”

“How kind of you.”

“I can see how important your books are to you by how you light up when you talk about them.” His comment took me by surprise and I was even more pleased when he reached out and took my hand, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

“I love writing. It’s one of the most important things in the world to me. You were an English major in college, weren’t you?” I looked up at him through my lashes, feeling almost bashful myself for a moment, although I’m not really sure why.

“Yeah, I figured I spoke it pretty well,” he joked.

“Quote something you like for me and I’ll see if I can guess what it’s from.”

He looked up for a minute and I could see he was thinking. Then he looked back at me and stared deeply into my eyes.

“Here I am back and still smoldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger,” he said without hesitation.

“Letter from Henry Miller to Anais Nin,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. Even though I knew Adam was a lot deeper than he let on, it always surprised me when he let me see it. Just then Tony and Roxanne made their way to our table.

“Ms. Alden, I’m huge fan,” Roxanne gushed. Up close I could see she was probably in her mid to late thirties, but her make-up was very skillfully applied, so you would never know it if you just glanced at her. I noticed because she was staring at me intently. Actually, she was staring so intently it was kind of making me uncomfortable. I tried to make conversation so I would feel less awkward.

“Did you have a favorite book of mine?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, looking excited. “I liked your second book, Fire. The one where the girl in her twenties is seduced by the older woman.” She gave me a significant look. I had to wonder … nah … she was a gangster’s moll. The gangster in question was busy checking out one of the waitresses.

“Fire, huh? What a shocker,” I muttered. “I could mail you a signed copy of …”

“I have it at my place. Maybe you could come by sometime,” she said in a husky voice and ran her tongue over her lips suggestively. Uh huh. Alrighty then.