Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
He sat back and studied me, large hands open and easy on his long thighs. “You’re not going to give me the little talk about not touching?”
My heart rate picked up, but I forced myself to shrug easily. “Maybe I want you to touch me.”
This was unfortunately true.
As I moved closer, I caught the expensive scent of him. I saw a few little imperfections like a spot he missed shaving and a scar in his eyebrow that made him even hotter somehow.
There was no doubt, Locke Maris was a tasty treat. And if he ever wanted to touch me… well, I was no saint. I’d let him touch the fuck out of me.
For free. Repeatedly.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said. The words came out easy. Informative. Not snappy or emotional.
“Suit yourself,” I said, raising my arms above my head and shimmying my hips. “But I’m planning on touching you unless you tell me not to.”
He tilted his head at me before nodding toward the door. “Are you his type?”
“Whose type? Your friend?” I moved between his open knees. Of course I knew he’d met Ronald, but my goal was to act stupid enough to not be suspected of hacking the man’s phone if he caught me attempting it.
“My associate. The man with the cigar.” Was there a hint of calculation or amusement in his eyes? It was hard to tell.
“I don’t know, but I thought he was into me. Would have liked to dance for him privately,” I said with a wink.
I danced closer, placing my hands against the wall on either side of his face before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “But I’m happy to be dancing privately for you, even if you haven’t had your sexual awakening yet, sweetheart.”
The low rumble of his laugh made my dick suddenly feel strangled in the jock I wore under these shorts. As far as I could tell, the man’s phone was in his inside jacket pocket.
“Let’s get this jacket off,” I urged, smoothing my palms over his chest and pushing the jacket open. The firm muscles of his chest were impressive. “In case you get… hot.”
Thankfully, it really was warm in here. He allowed me to pull the jacket off and set it on the sofa next to his hip, where I’d be able to reach it when I got onto his lap. The music’s bass pounded through the room and our bodies as I locked eyes with him and moved to the beat.
I ran my fingertips down his chest again and across his broad shoulders before moving his knees together and kneeling up on the sofa on either side of his thighs.
He relaxed back into the velvet cushions and lifted an eyebrow. “You’re determined to dance for me despite my lack of interest,” he said.
I pursed my lips and then tapped them with a finger as I leaned back and ran my other hand down my chest to my abs to draw attention to them. I had fucking V-cuts for god’s sake. He could at least envy them, even if he didn’t want to touch them.
“How much will you give me if I can make your dick hard?” I teased, gyrating over his lap without sitting on it, then moving off him again to slowly unbutton my shorts.
He huffed out a laugh. “You? Make me hard?” He pretended to think on it before rolling his eyes. “A thousand dollars. In cash.”
My own eyebrows shot up. “A cool grand just for making you hard? Deal.”
His dark eyes met mine. “You’re awfully sure of yourself. I bet high because it’s not happening. Unless you bring one of your lady friends in here.”
Well, now he’d triggered my obstinate stubborn streak.
I grinned and began a sultry striptease, pulling my shorts down enough to reveal my white cotton jock. After four nights of dancing here, I’d learned that many men had a secret locker room fantasy. And so far, this athletic jock had a 100 percent success rate on making men lose their fucking minds.
“Challenge accepted.”
2
LOCKE
This kid was a distraction. Something about him got on my nerves. Maybe it was his cocky assumption that he could “turn” me, as if that was something a person could do.
He couldn’t. I loved women. Had been enjoying sex with women since I was fifteen and one of the assistants at my grandfather’s office had offered to blow me in a back room at the company Christmas party.
I considered myself to have a higher-than-normal sex drive but was only ever driven toward women. Period.
The dancer was attractive, I’d give him that. Muscular and fit. Eyes such an impossible blue I wondered if they were colored contacts. His lips reminded me of a phrase my sister had tortured me with one long-ago summer on Martha’s Vineyard, when she’d first discovered romance novels and wouldn’t stop talking about the hero’s “bow-shaped lips.”