by H M Thomas
Finn’s gaze followed the girl as she left the stage. “Send her there. I’ll be waiting.” He turned and started toward the back of the club.
“Jay,” Grant warned.
Finn turned. What was up with his security guard? Grant was married, supposedly happily. He’d never appeared to have an interest in any of the women in the club before, but his reactions where this new girl was concerned were odd, almost possessive.
“Is there something I should know?”
God help Grant if he’d broken his vows for this dancer. No matter what a woman said about not wanting anything serious, that could all change once sex was involved.
Grant shook his head. “She’s a good one, Jay. Still whole.”
Finn saw it then, not lust—protectiveness. Not that that couldn’t change. Finn used to feel protective of Gretchen, before she showed up at his mom’s house and blew all those innocent feelings away with a few kisses and the brush of her body against his.
And now the semi-erection he’d been sporting was raging again. Damn Gretchen Christensen. Even a simple thought of the woman had him horny as hell. Well, he’d settle that tonight with the dark-haired dancer.
“Send her back,” he ordered Grant.
“Whoa. Wait.” Grant blocked his path. “I told you she’s one of the good ones. She doesn’t entertain.”
Finn nodded. “Yeah, I heard you. That’s why I want her.”
Grant’s brown eyes narrowed, and he crossed his thick arms over his equally thick chest. “You never sleep with the girls,” he reminded Finn.
Finn shrugged as if him breaking his number one rule was no big deal. “So what? Tonight, I need to get laid. She’s cute and, I’m assuming, clean. I want her. Send her back and we’ll see how she feels about it.”
He didn’t wait for Grant’s response, before he turned on his heel and made his way to the back of the club. Carlisle made sure each girl had a private room. He claimed it was so they’d have a comfortable place to prepare for work and a safe place to crash if they ever drank too much. Bullshit. The rooms were for seduction, plain and simple.
Lilah’s room was easy to find. Unlike the other doors, there were no pictures, no names, no messages, almost as if she hoped no one would notice it. It was dark, like her with her dark hair, black lingerie and dark lips. A contrast to Gretchen with her blond curls and emerald eyes. Gretchen was the light to his own darkness, but this dancer knew the world he inhabited. He might want Gretchen, but he couldn’t taint her light. Tonight he’d settle for someone who lived in the darkness like him.
He opened the door and went inside, closing it behind him. Everything sat in its place. It wouldn’t surprise him if Lilah had never even set foot in the room. No wonder Carlisle thought she was a narc. Most of the girls had clothes tossed over the back of the couch or across the bed. Purses and bags usually lie opened, their contents spilling out, but Lilah’s sat neatly in the corner.
Countertops were usually littered with empty glasses or bottles of liquor, but not here, Lilah’s counters were bare, the glasses in a perfect line on the shelf. Finn strolled to them, took one down and then rummaged through the cabinet for a bottle of liquor. He didn’t need to be drunk to sleep with this stranger, but he could use something to quiet the voice telling him he was making a colossal mistake. And being a total jackass.
Shit. He paused and raked his fingers through his hair. What am I doing?
The dancer was beautiful, probably nice. And not who he wanted. But no one else had to know what a piece of shit he was for taking his pleasure from one woman while he wanted another.
“Looking for something?” a woman’s voice asked behind him. “I didn’t think you were in town tonight?”
He straightened and turned, coming face-to-face with the dark-haired dancer and couldn’t help his smile. She was still wearing that kinky little mask.
~ ~ ~
Holy fuck! Gretchen froze with her hand on the knob. When Grant told her she had someone waiting in her room, she’d assumed it was Corey ready to pretend to have sex with her. She hadn’t expected Finn. She’d seen him with Grant before her dance, but that didn’t explain why he was in her room. From everything she’d heard about Jay Finley, he steered clear of the girls and their private rooms. She’d been counting on that being true.
Finn’s lips curved up and her heart plummeted to her stomach with a sickening crash as panic began to swell in her chest. Thank God she’d worn this stupid mask tonight. Maybe she could get him out of her room without blowing her whole damn case.
“Were you expecting someone else?” He twisted the top off the bottle, and she watched as brown liquid spilled into the glass on the counter.
“There was a customer last week who . . . uh. Well, he promised to come back,” she lied.
Finn tilted the bottle toward her as if she hadn’t spoken. “Would you like a drink?”
She shook her head. It was a lie. She wanted a drink, fucking needed a drink, but this situation was complicated enough without adding alcohol to the mix.
Finn’s gaze washed over her. “I heard you were a good girl.”
He didn’t sound like the Finn she knew, his stilted voice mocked her, something he’d never done, not even when he’d called her a child and sent her away.
“I’m not.” She stopped and cleared her throat. She’d been trained to talk without her accent coloring her speech, until now she’d never thought about it. “I’m not that good,” she replied in a perfectly bland voice.
He continued to study her too closely, and she resisted the urge to squirm. Instead, she turned to the door, ensuring it was closed. If her cover was going to be blown to hell, she’d at least like to keep it in this room.
“I saw you dance,” he continued. “I’d say you’re damn good. Have you danced before?”
She choked on an involuntary laugh.
“Something funny?” He raised a brow.
Not funny so much as ridiculous. Finn already knew she danced. She’d coerced him into attending every recital she’d been forced to perform in. “I was a ballerina. My mother wanted me to be poised and graceful.”
He laughed, and the sound warmed her. Instinctively, she met his stare. Never able to resist Finn James’s happiness.
He lifted his glass in a toast. “I’m sure you’ve done her proud.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Her mother would have a stroke if she knew how Gretchen was using those years of dance lessons.
“I don’t think proud is a word I’d ever use to describe my mother’s feelings toward me,” she answered honestly.
Finn nodded slightly and took a sip from his glass.
“Why are you here?” she asked before he could respond to her comment. She needed him to leave before he realized who she was. Her dark wig and blue contacts would only cover her for so long. If Finn had studied her half as much as she had him over the years, he’d soon realize her true identity.
He finished his drink and poured another.
Her gaze fell to his refilled glass. “You need a little liquid courage for what you’re doing?” She couldn’t resist. Finn seemed almost nervous.
His grin came quick and disarming, almost knocking the breath from her lungs. “I haven’t done anything yet, sugar.”
She tensed at the endearment. Who was this man in front of her? Was this the real Finn? Was this the way he spoke and acted when he was away from her family?
She rubbed her palms over her thighs. His eyes followed the movement.
“If you’re planning to pay me to sleep with you, don’t bother,” she informed him. Might as well cut to the chase.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to pay you.”
Her mouth dropped open involuntarily, causing him to chuckle.
“I don�
��t have to pay for sex,” he explained. “Though I’m sure you’d be worth every penny.”
No Finn didn’t have to pay for sex. She was proof enough that a few glances from him had a woman ready to throw her virtue and anything else of value out the window. But if he didn’t need a prostitute, then why was he in her room?
They stood in a face off, both appearing to be waiting for the other to speak.
“I enjoyed your dance,” he finally told her.
“And you needed to come here to tell me that?” She looked around the spartan room. A couch, a bed, a bowl of condoms—everything a person needed to carry out a night of regrets. Only she was here with Finn and she’d never regret being with him. Of course, he had no idea who she was. It wasn’t really her he wanted. Jealousy pinched her gut.
Finn’s gaze followed hers around the room. “I came here because I like privacy.”
“For talking?”
“For fucking.”
Gretchen’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart tried to pound right out of her chest. “What makes you think I’d be interested”—she paused and cleared the lump from her throat—“in fucking you?”
He shrugged his muscled shoulders, moving his shirt over the hard planes of his chest. “You were doing such a thorough job of it with your eyes. I thought we’d see if the real thing was as good.”
He pursed his full lips and her stomach twisted. Maybe she’d looked too long from the stage, but she’d been unable to help it. Finn had always fascinated her, and his role in this world was another facet she craved to uncover about the man. Not to mention, he’d looked ridiculously hot and dangerous lounging against the wall in his black slacks and button up, the sleeves rolled up to expose his strong, tanned forearms.
Still, she forced a snicker. “I can’t even see from the stage. Sorry to get your hopes up.” She pushed passed him. She’d have that drink after all. Sometimes she forgot how frustrating Finnegan James could be. Apparently, he didn’t have to change his whole demeanor when he changed his name the way she did.
He followed her. “Because of the lights?”
He stood with his chest dangerously close to her bare back. Goosebumps bloomed on her skin, a sensation she would’ve gladly welcomed two weeks ago in her hotel room, but she couldn’t afford it here.
“Yes.” She took a glass from the shelf and filled it with brown liquid. “Thankfully I can’t see anyone from the stage once the lights come on.” Or else she’d never be able to finish a dance. It was bad enough to know men watched her, to imagine what they were thinking. She’d never be able to perform if she had to see those thoughts playing out on their lascivious faces.
“But you were watching me before.” His breath, cool and smelling of the whiskey he’d drank, danced across her nape. “And after.” He bent then, rubbing his nose up her neck to the spot behind her ear that caused her knees to weaken. “That look told me you aren’t as innocent as they say you are, Lilah.”
Gretchen’s heart squeezed. For a moment she’d forgotten this game they were involved in and let herself believe Finn wanted her. Obviously, she hadn’t learned anything over the years when it came to him. She’d never have him. Whether because he was more honorable than he believed or because he simply didn’t want her, she’d never get what she wanted from him. Not as Gretchen anyway.
She lifted the glass to her mouth and threw it back, relishing the burn of the liquid fire sliding through her chest. Gretchen couldn’t have Finn, but Lilah would be expected to give Jay Finley whatever he wanted. She placed the empty glass as gently as possible on the counter and leaned back until her body brushed against Finn’s.
“You’re right,” she conceded. “I’m not. I’m picky.” She brushed her ass against the front of his slacks. “Most of the men who proposition me are . . . lacking.”
A low rumbling sound came from Finn’s chest.
“You’re not lacking though, are you?” she purred.
“Do you want to find out, little dancer?” He slipped his hands to her waist. His calloused palms scratched across her bare skin and made her shiver.
She reached behind her and cupped him between the thighs, filling her hand with warm, hard male. No, Finn James certainly wasn’t lacking.
“Ah fuck,” he murmured.
His tortured curse sent tingles of pleasure through her body. She turned and reached for his belt. Slipping the leather free, she pressed her mouth to his. The heat hit her immediately, as it always did when she touched Finn. How had he walked away from an attraction so obvious and intense? She slipped her hand into his pants, and he moaned, a moan that warmed her core. For the first time, she stroked her naked palm against the hot skin of his shaft.
He wouldn’t walk away tonight.
She moaned softly when his hands slid up her sides and cupped her breasts. Despite the distracting way he rubbed her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra, she managed to maneuver him toward the couch and push him so that he dropped to the black leather. When he gazed up at her his gray eyes burned with lust.
Moving forward, she stopped at the edge of the couch instead of following him down on to it. The inside of her thigh brushed against his knee and she shivered before she leaned down and kissed him.
Finn’s kisses were enough to send a woman headfirst into an orgasm. Of course, she’d known that, known they were as effective as any drug she’d tried to get off the streets. And like an addict, she would come back no matter how bad for her it was.
He grabbed her thigh and her knee sank into the couch beside his hip. She braced herself with her hands on his broad shoulders, before she slid them down to the top button of his shirt. As she released the button, she pressed a kiss to the skin she revealed before she made her way to the next and the next, peppering his chest with kisses and soft nibbles. When she revealed the familiar compass tattooed above his heart, she bent and kissed the design, tracing the points with her tongue. Another curse slipped past his lips before he fisted his hand in her wig.
His head fell back to the cushions behind him and he groaned. “Gretchen.”
She froze. Had he said her name?
Shit. Even if he’d figured out she wore a wig it shouldn’t have been enough for him to realize who she was.
Gretchen dared to lift her head to look up at him. He met her gaze briefly before averting his eyes. Oh. He’d said her name alright, but he still had no idea of her identity. She pressed a kiss to his abdomen to keep her grin at bay. His hands fisted in the leather of the couch as he lifted his hips to press against her breasts.
When she was sure he was about to lose his mind, she pulled away and stood. They needed to get down to business before he discovered her ruse. With her gaze locked with his, she reached behind and unclasped her bra, letting the fabric slide away. She dropped it to the floor and hooked her fingers in the waistband of her boy-shorts.
Finn wouldn’t look at her face as she slid the black lace away, but she could feel his attention brushing over her body like a thousand fingers
“Who is she?” She turned and strolled, naked, to the bowl of condoms. Selecting a foil package, she turned back to him, studying him as she tore the package with her teeth.
His eyes were defiant now and a muscle in his jaw ticked. Gretchen smirked and walked back to the couch. She bent over and placed a kiss on his crown, before she rolled the latex over his impressive length. “Who are you seeing while I touch you?”
He still refused to meet her eyes.
She straddled his hips, nudging his member with her slick opening until he finally met her gaze.
“Tell me,” she urged before she slowly sank down onto him. As he filled her, stretching her farther than she’d ever been stretched before, she let her head fall back. “My God.”
She moaned and gripped his shoulders, lift
ing and then lowering herself on him again.
He jerked her close, and his fingers dug into her back, crushing her breasts against his hard chest. He murmured against her shoulder as he gripped her.
“Say it,” she urged as she picked up her pace, riding him harder and faster toward a shared end.
Instead of answering, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, holding back the name on the tip of his talented tongue.
“Say my name, Finn,” she whispered in his ear.
Chapter 4
Finn jerked away and raised his head to glare at the woman on his lap. No. He’d heard her wrong. She hadn’t called him Finn. No one here knew his real name. Especially not some random dancer. She couldn’t.
“It’s okay.” She rocked her hips and brought her face close to his. “I was thinking about you too, Finn.”
He ripped the mask from her face. “Gre . . . Gretchen?”
He’d officially lost his fucking mind. His level of obsession where Gretchen Christensen was concerned had reached a scary level of hallucinations. Of course, she wasn’t Gretchen. She was Lilah. Gretchen would never be here, in his club, dancing, stripping, fucking him. Yet . . .
Before he could continue to question his sanity, she pressed her breasts against his chest and rocked forward. Beneath her cheap perfume he again detected the scent of warm sunshine, the same scent he’d always associated with the woman he wanted and shouldn’t have. She circled her hips and her lips curved in a familiar smile that had haunted him for over a decade. He lifted his gaze, daring to meet her stare, and although the woman’s eyes weren’t green like Gretchen’s, they danced with her signature mirth.
He jerked her against him and crushed her mouth to his. Fuck it. If he’d lost his mind so be it, he’d surrender to the insanity and enjoy every damn minute of it. He rose from the couch still buried inside her with her legs wrapped around his hips. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her on her back, never losing their intimate contact. Coming down over her, Finn stared at her with a new admiration.