Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
He studies me for a few seconds before moving his gaze up and down my body. “And now you’re a stripper.”
My skin heats up despite everything as I protest. “A muse, remember? Not a stripper. I just serve the drinks.”
“When you manage not to drop them, that is.”
“Hilarious.”
“Let’s change that up tonight, shall we?”
“What?”
Something flickers through his features, something mysterious but no less heart-pumping. “I came here to be serviced.”
“You—”
“But you ruined that for me.”
Embarrassment heats up my cheeks once again. “And I apologized for it.”
He hums as if in assent. “But apologies don’t make for a happy ending now, do they?”
“What happy ending?”
He takes his time replying as he stares at my flushed cheeks, my hair, my halo, the tray I’m still holding against my chest. My short skirt, my bare thighs, all the way down to my heels. Once he’s satisfied with his perusal, he lifts his eyes, dark and glittering, and drawls, “The kind that a half-naked girl writhing on my lap leads to.”
I’m still frowning. “What does that…”
My words trail off when I finally grasp what he means, and his mouth pulls up in a tiny smirk. “Ah, so the Little Strawberry finally catches on.”
My heart skips a beat even as anger warms my chest. “Is it because of my red hair? The nickname.”
“No, it’s because you wear your little red heart on your sleeve.”
“You’re a pig,” I tell him.
“And you owe me a happy ending,” he declares.
“What?
“Actually”—he pauses to look me up and down once again—“I’ll let you off the hook if you manage to get me hard.”
“Wait, what?”
“Give me a lap dance for the one you ruined,” he tells me, jerking his chin up at me, his words commanding. “And we’ll call it even.”
I let a few seconds pass as I absorb what he just said. “Are you… You’re kidding, right?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I never joke about these things.”
“What things?”
“Things involving my dick.”
“Your d…” I shake my head, blushing furiously. “Okay, time out, all right? I know what I did was wrong. I get it. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business. Message received. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want. And I will stay far, far away from you. Now, can you stop being an asshole for a second and just let this go? Let me get you some towels and let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“Can’t. I’ve got a very good memory.”
“Why, are you an elephant?”
“Nah, just an unhappy customer, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not a stripper,” I remind him with clenched teeth. “I’m not going to give you a lap dance. The most I can do is pay you back.” At this, a muscle jumps on his cheek for some reason, but I keep going, “That’s what I was trying to say in the beginning before… all this. If you just tell me how much money you gave Bridgette, I can pay you back and we can put this whole thing behind us.”
It's not ideal. It’s going to set me back but I’m also not going to give him a freaking lap dance. So paying him back is the lesser of two evils.
“Three thousand dollars,” he replies after a few seconds.
“What?” I shriek.
“A little over that, but we’ll round it down to three.”
“You really gave her over three thousand dollars?”
His jaw clenches. “It’s not a big deal.”
I open and close my mouth a couple of times before stuttering, “It is a big deal. You gave her enough money to buy a second-hand car. There’s no way her lingerie cost that much. No way.”
“Yeah, but she left, didn’t she? Instead of standing here and running her mouth, calling you a bitch,” he bites out.
Wait a second, what?
My heart races in my chest as I stare up at him for a few moments. Then, when I can gather my words, I say on a whisper, “You gave her three thousand dollars so she’d stop calling me a bitch.”
This time, his jaw clench is accompanied by a sharp breath. “She wouldn’t shut up. So I found a way to make her.”
I swallow, my belly fluttering. “I could’ve handled it.”
“I did handle it.”
Like he did before, with my old catering boss. He handled my problem for me. I didn’t know what to make of it back then, just like I don’t know what to make of it now. No one has ever handled things for me before. I don’t even know what that looks like, someone lending a helping hand, having my back. Well, it looks like a tall grumpy soccer player, looking down at me with irritated but pretty eyes. Who also happens to be my stepbrother.
“I…” I begin, licking my lips. “I don’t have three thousand dollars.”
He takes in my glistening mouth before saying in a low voice, “Good thing it’s not your money I’m after, then. Just your ability to spread your legs and grind your tight ass in my lap. And from what I remember, you know how to shake it, don’t you?”