At first, I think he's going to say something, do something, anything. Instead, he stares at me for a long second before turning around and walking the distance of the small room, making a selection on the digital screen on the side wall that controls the music, before taking a seat on the red bean shaped couch that sits along the far wall.
Immediately the silence fades away and a slow seductive beat I don't recognize fills the space. I don't know how long I stand there not able to move, not able to think. Seconds? Minutes? All I know is that when his lips part on his words, my insides literally melt. I didn't know it was possible to physically want someone so badly, but something about this man has me wanting to do all kinds of things to him that I know I shouldn't.
“Dance for me.” He says, hitching his finger, gesturing for me to come to him. As if my body is being controlled by his voice alone, I slowly cross the space until I am standing directly in front of him. There is something so wrong about this and yet, it feels so right. So exciting.
If you would have asked me an hour ago if I knew what I would do in this situation, I probably wouldn't have had an answer, but somehow my body seems to know exactly what to do. Pulling off my fedora, I toss it across the room before running my fingers through my long hair, noticing immediately how hyper sensitive my skin feels as the strands brush against my shoulders and back.
I hear his breath hitch when I turn around and lower myself into his lap. Grinding my backside against him, I can feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants. A dead giveaway that whatever I am doing, it's clearly working for him.
Gaining even more confidence, I turn back around and straddle his lap, not minding one bit when his hands go to my hips. Normally I would never let someone touch me like this here, but with him, it feels different somehow. I don't feel like a dancer doing something forbidden with a client. I feel like a woman, doing something thrilling with a man that seems to want me as much as I want him.
Grinding my body against his lap, I can feel the dampness inside of my panties as my arousal takes hold at the forefront of everything else. Dropping my face to the crook of his neck, I run my tongue along his skin, immediately loving the way he tastes. I trail it up to his jawline and then moan so softly in his ear, it's more of a purr than an actual moan.
His hands tighten on my hips, gripping me so tightly that it's borderline painful and yet, makes it that much more thrilling at the same time. I am no stranger to the art of seduction. I am not embarrassed or self conscious when it comes to sex. To me, it's natural. It comes easily. I'm not ashamed or afraid. Sex to me, is like dancing. It's thrilling. It's freeing. It's exhilarating.
As the song begins winding down, I slowly peel my body from his, nipping at his earlobe before pushing into a full stand in front of him. Even in the dim lights, I can see how much I have affected him and that thought alone makes me want to repeat the process all over again, only this time without the barrier of clothing.
“You're incredible.” He rasps, his breathing coming out uneven as the silence, once again surrounds us.
“So I've been told.” I say, finding a confidence I don't usually display in front of clients, or my boss for that matter. Maybe the way I am acting is purely a result of being in the company of the man in front of me.
I consider turning around and walking right out of the room without another word, but his eyes hold me in place, as if somehow controlling my very movements, or maybe even my thoughts. Within seconds, another song fills the room, this one even slower than the first. A stripped down, acoustic version of “Heartless” by Kanye West.
Reaching out, he takes my hand and pulls me closer to him. Without really thinking, my hips begin swaying in time with the music. “You're breaking the rules.” I say playfully, leaning forward and securing my hand on the back of the couch to hold myself in a position where I am practically laying on him but not touching him at the same time.
“Is that so?” He breathes, his eyes not leaving mine as I trail my hand across the side of his face, down his neck, across his shoulder and down his bicep, as my body sways above him.
“One dance.” I say. “You only get one dance in a private.”
“Perks of being the owner I guess.” He says, pulling my hand from the back of the couch, causing my body to collapse down on top of him, my chest resting against his, our faces just inches apart.
The movement causes me to falter for a moment as I get lost in the feeling of his body against mine, his scent swimming around me. Honestly, this man is so intoxicating I feel like I have had several drinks when I haven't had a drop of anything.
“Abusing your power.” I breathe, tensing when he leans in closer.
“Never.” He breathes against my lips before pulling away again. Needing to put a little distance between my face and his, afraid that any minute I might have a brain malfunction and actually close the gap between us, I hitch my leg across his and once again straddle his lap.
Settling down on him, I pull my knees up and rest my elbows on them, temporarily halting all my movements. “So tell me something.” I say, smiling when his lips turn up in grin and two adorable dimples make an appearance.
“What's that?” He asks, running his hands across my outer thighs causing my skin to prickle under his touch.
“Well, how about you start with why you requested my personnel file yesterday.” I say, not missing the way his eyes widen a little. Clearly he didn't know that Josh had shared that information with me.
“I like to know about the girls working in my clubs.” He says, letting his hands wander from my outer thighs to my knees and then back again. I try to keep my breathing calm and not let him see how much his touch is affecting me, though I am not entirely sure that I am being successful.
“And.” I say, waiting for him to comment on what he found. “What did you learn?”
“Anna Blake. Twenty-one. Originally from North Carolina. Moved to Chicago when you were four to live with your grandma. Entered foster care at the age of twelve. Spent the next four years in two different homes before finally being adopted by one Patricia Wade when you were sixteen. You were an honor student in high school, landing a pretty hefty scholarship to the University of Chicago, where you are currently a Junior majoring in Sociology. You live on campus. Roommate is Andrea Johnson. You have a 3.8 GPA. And you, at some point in your life, were a dancer.”
“It says that in my file?” I ask, referring to the dancing part.
“It doesn't take a genius to see how technical and precise your movements are. An inexperienced dancer doesn't usually have such amazing technique. That only comes with years of training. So my next question is this, why do you dance here and not pursue dance when you are clearly very talented?” He asks.
Taking his hand, without a word, I trail it down my leg and across the bottom of my right knee where a pretty thick scar shows the evidence of my knee surgery. His eyes register that he understands the moment his hand skates across the marred skin.
“Blew out my knee. Sophomore year of high school.” I say on a weak shrug, surprised that I am opening up to him so freely, especially given our current situation and that I am still straddling his lap half naked.
“No way to correct it?” He asks, seeming to really care, which kind of throws me off kilter a little.
“Nope. It's strong enough to dance. Just not strong enough to take the demands of dancing professionally.” I say, trying to keep my voice strong and not let my emotion show through.
I don't know anything about this man and suddenly the room feels too small. Sex I can do. Intimacy, not so much. Feeling an overwhelming urge to run, I make a move to stand, but his hands hold me firmly in place.
“Mr. Reed.” I say, meeting his eyes again.
“Call me Bentley.” He says, his smile returning. “Anna.” He tacks on.
“Logan.” I correct him.
“Logan.” His smile spreads even wider. “Tell me something I don't know about you.”
“At the end of the day, it's just a file. A person's life typed out in bullet points. It doesn't tell me who you are as a person. What your dreams are.” He pauses, trailing his thumb across my collar bone. “The kind of noises you make when you come.” His last words are raspy and catch me completely off guard.
Like I have been doused in cold water, suddenly I feel like I am seeing clearly again. And as much as I would love to just strip bare and let him take me right here and now, I know that professionally, I simply can't. Even if he is the owner, it still wouldn't sit well with me. It's bad enough that I am sleeping with Josh. I can't just turn around and sleep with his boss too. What kind of person would that make me?
I know he wants me. Correction. I know he wants to fuck me. That much is clear. And I would have to be blind to not want the same thing. But I can't risk losing this job.
“I really should go.” I say, once again making a move to stand. Again, my attempts being thwarted by his strong hands.
“Okay.” He says, smiling playfully and making no move to lessen his grip on me. The music changes again and the moment the crisp piano cuts through the air, it's like we enter an alternate universe.
My face is lowering to his before I can do anything to stop it. The moment our lips connect, an electrical current explodes through my body, causing every nerve ending to stand to attention. Reaching up, he clasps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me deeper into the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside of my mouth.
I can't make myself do anything but kiss him back. Diving both of my hands into the back of his hair, I pull him closer. I want to slow down, turn it off. I want to stop this. I want to get up and walk away. I want..... and yet, I can't.
I can't do anything that doesn't involve touching his perfect skin. Or tasting his incredible mouth. Or feeling his hands on my body. Finding my will from somewhere down deep, I put my hands against his chest and push hard, finally freeing myself of his lips.
“Bentley. Stop.” I say, so breathless my words barely register through the music. “I have to go.” I stutter out, relief flooding through my body when he doesn't resist and lets me stand.
“I'm sorry.” I say, backing away and spinning around, exiting the room as quickly as I can, before taking off down the hallway and through the club before finally making it backstage. Ducking into my dressing room, I shut the door and slide the lock in place, pushing my back against the hard wood trying to steady my breathing.
What the hell was that? And why the hell did I let it happen? I can't explain or excuse my actions, but as I reach up and brush my fingers across my swollen lower lip, I also can't bring myself to regret it either.
Chapter Four
“Logan.” Josh's voice comes filtering into my room just moments later, followed by a faint knock against my door. “You in there?” He phrases his question like he doesn't already know the answer even though I know he does.
“Yeah, I'm just changing.” I holler back, quickly peeling out of my polka dot cami and boy shorts before stepping into my regular black bra and panties.
“Can I come in?” He asks, his voice low.
I don't want to let him in. Hell, I don't want to see anyone right now. But most of all, I don't want to see him. One look at me and he will know what I was up to. What I almost did with his boss. Looking in the mirror, I notice immediately that my cheeks are extremely flushed and my green eyes are much brighter than usual.
“Calm down.” I say softly to my reflection, taking a deep inhale. “Yeah, hang on.” I call back to Josh, grabbing my black silk robe from my vanity chair and slipping it around my shoulders before making my way to the door.
The minute the lock slides and the knob turns, Josh hurries inside, shutting the door behind him. Turning back towards my vanity, I grab my brush and begin working out the massive tangles that have developed in my thick hair over the course of the night. I jump when Josh approaches me from behind and rests his hands on my shoulders.
“You okay?” He asks, meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“Fine.” I say, sitting my brush down and turning to face him. “What's up?” I ask, running my hand down the button closure of his black shirt, trying my damnedest to seem completely normal, even though I feel anything but.
“I saw you practically run in here. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He says, his brown eyes narrowing on me.
“Everything is fine.” I say on a shrug. “I just needed to get the hell out of that cami.” I lie, pointing to the material on the floor. “The under wire was squeezing me funny.” More lies.
“Didn't they fit you before you wore it?” He asks, turning his gaze back towards me. I guess I should have thought about the fact that we are fitted and sized for every outfit we wear before I decided to fake a wardrobe issue.
“Yeah, it fits fine. Just wearing it all night started to get uncomfortable.” I silently curse myself for not only lying, but for lying so badly.
“You sure that's it?” He asks, running his hands down my arms and then back up, coming to a stop just at the base of my neck. He trails his thumb up along my windpipe and then back down, skirting across my collar bone.
I am not in the mood for this right now but honestly, I know that denying him will raise some definite red flags. I am always up for sex. Always. I can't remember a time that I have ever made an excuse not to sleep with Josh. I mean, let's be real. He's handsome, older, experienced and has the ability to make me come every time without fail. Why would I deny that?
Even still, something about my encounter with Bentley has left me shaken and not quite able to move past it. I reach up and still Josh's hand, peering up to meet his brown eyes. “I have a lot of studying to get done, finals and all. Do you mind if I head out?” I ask, not missing the disappointment that crosses his face.
“You sure everything is okay?” He asks, tilting my head upwards to meet his gaze.
“Of course.” I say, pushing up on my tip toes to kiss his jawline, his light dusting of hair tickling my lips. “I just have so much to do.” I say, pulling back again.
“If you're sure.” He says, reminding me once again how protective he is with me. No one at the club knows about us. Well, with the exception of Lo. But that doesn't mean that people don't pick up on how Josh is with me. I think a lot of the girls just assume it's because I am the youngest dancer here. Like maybe he is fathering me in a way. Little do they know, it is the furthest thing from that.
“Another time?” I ask, wrapping my hands around his waist and pulling him into me. Looking up into his handsome face, I can't help but smile when he smiles down at me, shaking his head.
Lowering his face, his lips barely brush against mine when someone pushes their way into the room, causing us to jump apart. I'm startled by our sudden intrusion and my stomach immediately knots at the thought that we may have just been discovered. We don't need our relationship getting out. That could cause huge issues all around. Not just for him but for me as well. I dart my eyes to the door but Josh is standing in my line of sight. Panic seethes through my body as I hear his voice break the silence.
“Josh?” Bentley questions, his commanding voice booming through the small space. Stepping to the side, I pull my robe even tighter around my body, trying to prepare myself for how I will feel when I see those perfect blue eyes staring back at me again.
When my eyes finally land on his face, I lose my breath. This is the first time I have seen him in full light, and while he is immaculate in dim lighting, nothing could have prepared me for just how breathtakingly beautiful this man is when his features are on full display.
“Logan, you left this in the back.” He says, turning his eyes on me for the first time since entering the room. He holds out my fedora and waits until I take it from his hand before turning back to Josh. “Can I have a word?” He asks, gesturin
g his head towards the door.
Josh nods and throws me a weak smile before following Bentley into the hallway. Both men disappear from view before I have a chance to really process anything that is happening. The moment my door clicks shut, I rush forward, pushing my ear against the hard wood, trying desperately to hear what they are talking about.
I can hear their muffled voices, but give up on making out what they are saying within seconds. It's no use. Pushing away from the door, I cross the small space and quickly slip out of my robe and into my faded jeans and fitted black t-shirt. Pulling a hair tie out of my vanity drawer, I quickly throw my hair up in a ponytail and then begin collecting my things.
My hands shake nervously as I shove my cell phone into my back pocket and take one last look around my room to make sure I am not forgetting anything. I don't work again until Sunday which is five days away. I don't want to have to come here on one of my off days because I left something here.
Honestly, I know that I am stalling. I need to see Josh before I leave. I need to know what Bentley wanted to talk to him about. More importantly, I need to make sure he is not hurt by learning that I was in a private room with Bentley. Josh knows how I feel about privates. I can't imagine learning that I did one, with the very appealing owner of all people, will be very easy for him to swallow. Especially considering he's tried to get me to do one for him several times and I have always refused.
After what feels like an eternity, I finally give up waiting and push my way into the hallway. I half expect for both men to still be here but to my surprise, the space is completely deserted. Turning left, I walk the short distance to Josh's office and knock lightly.
I wait until he says “Come in” before pushing my way inside. He's sitting behind his desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes finding mine the second I come into view.
You and I Alone Page 3