Give In

by Layla Frost

  I knew I was attractive. My wholesomeness was appealing to some, and I had a good smile.

  That didn’t mean I got hit on a lot, though.

  When it did happen, it was never the type of guy I was into. My girl next door looks meant I attracted good guys in khakis and polo shirts. Boys who tucked their t-shirts into their jeans. Ones who likely owned pastels, romp-hims, and more hair products than me. There was nothing wrong with them, per se, but they weren’t my type. And if they knew I was a stripper, I wouldn’t be their type anymore, either.

  Going to see a stripper?

  Yes.

  Fucking one?

  Definitely.

  Dating?

  Big fat no.

  I barely had time to breathe, let alone date or do… other things, so it was a moot point.

  As Professor Caine began his lesson, Brooks took his new seat next to me. He wrote his email address down and passed the paper my way, whispering, “For the notes. And I’ll email mine if you’re ever out. We could get together to study, if you wanted.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered back. “My free time is pretty limited, but that’d be cool.”

  “Something important Mr. Crosby? Miss Wilder?” Professor Caine asked suddenly.

  Everyone in the class turned to stare at us.

  I may have been used to people’s eyes on me, but not like that. My face heated, burning as my stomach flipped.

  “Nope, we’re good,” Brooks answered casually.

  “Let’s try to hold the note passing and whispers until after class then.” Skewering me with a glare, he turned and continued his lecture. “As I was saying…”

  Well, this day keeps getting better and better.

  *******

  “Why don’t you come out with us?” Tonia, my roommate, pressed her bottom lip out, amping up the dramatics of her pleading tone. “You’re off work, you deserve a break.”

  When I’d first moved, I’d bounced around a lot because of roommate or landlord drama—or roommate and landlord drama. I’d finally lucked into a cheap two-bedroom place that I shared with Tonia. After so many batshit crazy roommates, she was a goddess. We got along well, though we rarely saw each other.

  I laughed at her pouty face. “Tuesdays are when I get caught up, and I’m freakin’ swamped. Go. Have fun.”

  Sitting on the living room floor, she finished painting her nails and started blowing on them, pausing to say, “One of these days you’ll have to pretend you’re not a ninety-year-old lady in the body of a twenty-two-year-old.”

  “One day,” I agreed, feeling both wishful and noncommittal. “I’m just behind, which is making me anxious. I wouldn’t be much fun.”

  “Sooo…” She glanced up at me, smiling with fake innocence. “Brooks, huh?”

  My brows lowered. “What about him?”

  “Keith, this guy I see sometimes, was telling me all about his friend who has the hots for my shy, workaholic roomie.”

  Ha. Yeah, the shy stripper. That’s me.

  “Basically,” she continued, “he said Brooks thinks you’re a hottie, but he thought you were blowing him off. I hope you don’t mind, I told Keith to tell him you actually do work too much.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, though I wondered if it would’ve been easier to just let things be. It wasn’t as if I had time to date, so nothing really changed by him knowing I hadn’t been a liar.

  Although, with as much as I did lie, it was kind of nice to have one of my few truths confirmed.

  “So, how do you know him?” Tonia asked.

  “We have Political Theory together. We’ve never really talked, except when he asked for my notes.”

  “Ohhh, the old ‘I need the notes’ excuse. Riiiight,” she drawled, adding an exaggerated wink, making us both laugh. “Isn’t Political Theory with the intellectually deep—and deeply sexy—Caine?”

  The bastard.

  “That’s the one,” I murmured.

  “Hell, if I didn’t think I’d flunk right out, I’d totally take his class.”

  I snorted. “I’m sure that wouldn’t look suspicious at all. Every music major needs to learn the difference between capitalism and socialism.”

  Her brows furrowed before she shook her head. “Yup, I’d flunk.” Mindful of her nails, she carefully stood. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll let you know if I hear more about Brooks. Want me to work my wing-woman magic?”

  “I’m good.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like my skills are needed anyway. You’ve got it all under control.”

  I watched as she headed to her room to finish getting ready for a fun night. Once she was out of view, I looked down at the notes I had spread on the couch and all the tabs I had opened on my laptop so I could complete my work.

  Yup.

  Totally under control.

  *******

  Damien

  Can I hit a student?

  I can’t, but it’d be worth it right now.

  Brooks fucking Crosby was sitting next to her again. I knew they were messaging on their laptops. He’d type then wait. She’d smile a small smile, biting her lip as she read and responded. He’d watch her, staring at her lush, full bottom lip. Then she’d turn and smile at him, her soft, lilting giggle travelling through the room straight to me.

  She was beautiful always. Dancing with her damn mask in place, she was sexy. When she was relaxed and smiled, though, her face lit up and I couldn’t breathe. I wanted her to smile at me. I wanted to make her laugh.

  I wanted to force a reaction, but each time I tried, I got less and less from her.

  When I’d come out of the private room on Friday to see her already on to the next dance, I’d known better than to stick around. Seeing her come out with some other guy? Knowing she’d been touching him?

  I couldn’t.

  Not without spending a night—or longer—behind bars.

  Giving the bartender Eden’s tip had been an option, but before I’d been able to make my way through the crowd, another idea had hit me.

  I’d thought for sure when Eden found the money in her mailbox, she’d lose her damn mind. I’d been hard—fucking aching—waiting for her to chew me out. To shoot fire at me. To do something.

  She hadn’t.

  Her expression had been stoic as she’d shoved the cash into her backpack.

  I’d skipped seeing her on Saturday just so I could fuck with her at school, and it’d been for nothing.

  I needed to back away from Eden. And I was intent on doing that…

  Until I saw her again.

  As soon as my eyes landed on her, my resolve would crumble, and I’d sink deeper. Give in a little more.

  My head was bent as though I were working, but I had no clue what the hell was even on my desk. Usually I had better control—period, but especially at school—but my focus kept going to Eden and Brooks.

  Fuck, she looked sexy.

  I hated it.

  Grabbing my messenger bag, I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. Everyone’s gaze shot to me. I caught a glimpse of Eden, her eyes wide. “I need to go take care of something.”

  Something that’s currently throbbing for attention.

  “Finish your work and leave it on my desk.” I shrugged. “Or don’t. It’ll be you with a zero.”

  Holding my bag in front of me like I was a damn teenager again, I walked from the room. I needed to get ahold of myself, in more ways than one.

  When I reached my office, I closed and locked the door before sitting at my desk. I inhaled deeply, my exhale a hiss. My palm scrubbed down my face as I breathed, trying to get control. When my eyes closed, a vivid image of Eden dancing at the club filled my head. My lids shot open, my cock twitched, and I gripped the edge of the desk.

  “What the hell is wrong with me?” I murmured.

  My mind didn’t answer. Instead, the movie it played morphed. Eden no longer danced at the club, sexy and masked. She was there in front of me, smili
ng wide as she stripped, showing me everything. Giving me everything.

  At the visual of one of her smiles, my dick didn’t twitch.

  It jerked, throbbing painfully.

  I undid my belt and pants to free myself. Closing my eyes again, I didn’t try to clear the fantasy images that played through my mind. I lived them. Breathed them. My imagination ran wild, unhindered as I allowed myself to believe the scene, if only for a few minutes.

  Fisting my cock, my grip rough and my strokes frenzied, I pictured the way she moved her body so fluidly. But in my fantasy, it was just for me. Her smile was just for me. Her laughter was just for me. I imagined her straddling me, grinding down with nothing between us as I slid into her.

  I quickly grabbed a handful of tissues before coming so hard, I almost shot my load up my torso. Cleaning the mess, I tucked my still semi-hard cock away.

  This is what my life has become.

  I’ve jacked off more in the last few weeks than the previous ten years combined.

  I needed to get laid.

  To grow some balls and stop chasing what I couldn’t have.

  To remember how much I have to lose.

  I needed…

  Eden.

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  Messy Knots

  Eden

  “I had fun at coffee,” Brooks said, standing by my chair as I packed my stuff after Political Theory on Friday.

  Glancing up, I pushed my hair out of my face and smiled. “I did, too.”

  When I looked back down at my bag, I heard him clear his throat before he blurted, “Do you think you’d want to go out again? To dinner or something not school related?”

  Shit.

  I lifted my bag and gave him my full attention. “I work crazy hours, so scheduling things is hard.”

  His smile turned forced at my words. “Yeah, that’s totally understandable—”

  “I want to, though,” I interrupted, giving him a smile as I touched his arm. “I just work nights, so it’s tricky to find time.”

  “Do you have any days off?” he asked, his tone and hazel eyes showing his hopefulness. He was open and unguarded, not bothering to play games.

  “I work tonight and tomorrow, but I have Sunday off,” I said as we walked from the room.

  Grabbing my arm to shift me out of the doorway, Brooks stopped us in the hall. He kept hold of me as he asked, “How about Sunday? We’ll do an early dinner and movie.”

  I hesitated. There were a whole mess of reasons why I should say no. Yet, when I opened my mouth, it wasn’t a denial that popped out.

  “Sure,” I said, surprising myself, and Brooks, if his raised brows were any indication.

  His face lit up at my agreement.

  No mask.

  No lies.

  No bullshit.

  “Awesome. I’ll call you tomorrow to figure out what time.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to my cheek before starting in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. “See ya.”

  Tonia is going to lose her mind when I tell her. She’ll probably start planning the wedding.

  With a small smile on my face, I turned and almost ran into Professor Caine.

  Literally.

  My body buzzed to life at the close contact. Wide-eyed and mouth agape, an involuntary gasp escaped me. I hoped the quiet sound was lost in the chaos of the hallway, but I knew he didn’t miss it.

  I faked a smile. “Excuse me.”

  “No problem.” He took a step so we were side-by-side, our arms almost touching. That air of danger—the one only I seemed to notice—emanated off him. His voice was quiet and rough as he muttered, “See you later, Miss Wilder.”

  My eyes shot to him.

  I’d genuinely believed Professor Caine had been done with Sinners. He hadn’t come in the previous Saturday. He’d given me the cash at school that Monday. His point had been made, and I’d been looking forward to getting on with my life.

  But then he’d shown up Wednesday.

  And Thursday.

  And based on his phrasing, I knew, with absolute certainty, he hadn’t been talking about seeing me in class.

  “Right,” I mumbled. Ducking my head, I hurried away from the rain cloud threatening to ruin my bright day.

  ******

  I’d been right, of course.

  Then again, I’d been wrong.

  Very wrong.

  Professor Caine had come into Sinners, but he hadn’t taken a seat at the bar.

  He’d taken one closer to the stage, giving me a clear view of him as I stepped onto it.

  Only he wasn’t alone.

  My steps almost stopped—my heart definitely did—when I saw Brittany sitting on the side of his chair. Her hand was on his knee as she laughed.

  I knew Brittany thought he was sexy—which wasn’t a surprise, there were probably ninety-year-old women who thought he was. But Brittany had been vocal about her feelings, complaining loudly and often that she never got to dance for him.

  Based on the way they were chatting, I had a feeling her luck was about to change.

  I blanked my expression and unfocused my eyes, though it took more effort than usual. Every so often, my vision refocused on Professor Caine. And each time, I saw the same thing.

  Him and Brittany, chatting and laughing.

  For the first time since he’d started coming in, he wasn’t watching me.

  I should’ve been relieved. Happy. Thrilled, even. But I wasn’t. I was disconcerted. Confused. I didn’t want him to look at me, but I also didn’t want him paying attention someone else.

  Halfway through my second song, movement caught my eye. I tried to ignore it but couldn’t. My gaze tracked Brittany leading him by the hand toward the private rooms.

  It was like a punch to the stomach.

  No, this is good.

  He’s here being a guy. It’s not about me or his power trip.

  No more awkward. No more uncomfortable. No more wondering and analyzing.

  At my thoughts, my forced smile became a little more real.

  No more accidental touches that tingle my skin and make me feel higher than any drug ever could.

  My steps faltered, and my insides tangled into a tight knot.

  Getting back on track, I finished my dance, more emotionally numb than usual. When I came out from the back, there was a private dance waiting.

  Bubbles erupted in my chest, an almost morbid anticipation filling me.

  I whipped the curtain open, and the bubbles turned to lead, heavy and crushing they sank in my gut.

  It wasn’t Professor Caine.

  A talkative man who smelled like he’d bathed in cheap tobacco and cheaper beer was waiting.

  I’m so fucked-up.

  The rest of the night was uneventful for me, though Brittany seemed to be floating.

  After our shifts ended, she was in heaven, gloating to anyone who’d listen.

  While one of the girls complained about a skeezy customer, she gleefully interrupted. “Not my guy. He wasn’t sad or pathetic like the rest of them.”

  “He was so friendly and talkative, I didn’t even dance,” she repeated a handful of times, because of fucking course he talked to her.

  “My tips tonight were so good, thanks to the fifty the hottie gave me,” she said as she packed the bills into her purse.

  “I can’t wait until he comes back,” she whispered, as though she were surrounded by her girlfriends and not her coworkers.

  After my makeup was removed, and I’d changed into street clothes, I headed for the exit only for Brittany to slip in and block the door.

  Faux concern covered her face, an exaggerated pout pushing her lip out. “I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  “Why would I be?”

  Her eyes darted to the other girls and she lowered her voice. “You know how some can be when their regulars branch out.”

  I do.

  Just like I know you’re the wo
rst of us all.

  “Nope. It’s all business.”

  “Maybe,” she drawled before giggling. “Or maybe it’ll turn into more.”

  “Maybe,” I muttered as I left.

  And maybe it’s time to detangle my messy knot of a life.

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  The Land of Make-Believe and Making Out

  Eden

  “I can’t believe you’re finally going out!” Tonia squealed, and not for the first time. Rather than becoming adjusted to the idea, she seemed to be getting more and more excited as she watched me work on my makeup.

  “Is it that shocking?” I asked.

  “Totally.” In typical Tonia fashion, she didn’t pull any punches. “Your life is all work and school, school and work. With as late as you bartend and as early as you go to class, I don’t think you even sleep.”

  She had a point. Not the bartending part—that’d been true before, I’d just never shared about my career change. My lack of sleep, however, was very much real.

  Shrugging, she continued. “But now you’re going out, and with Brooks at that. That dude is a hottie.”

  “He’s sweet, too. But not in a goody-two-shoes way.” Pretending for a little while that I was a regular college student, I confided, “I’m glad he asked me out.”

  Tonia beamed like a proud mother hen. “Well, I’m glad, too. Now people will see you’re not a workaholic robot. Is he picking you up?”

  I shook my head. “I told him I’d meet him at the restaurant, and then it’s only a quick walk to the theater. He seems like a good guy, but just in case.”

  “Smart. I met a guy at my old place once, and the date was awful. Like, in my top three worst dates. I told him I wasn’t feeling it, but he wouldn’t give up. Total creeper status. Finally, I had to threaten to call the cops.” She shook her head and rushed to add, “Not that I think Brooks is a creeper, but better safe, right? Anyway, what’re you wearing?”

  I gestured down to my tee and jeans. “This.”

  Tonia looked horrified. “Nu-uh. Too casual. With first dates, you want to try without looking like you’re trying. Nice, but not too nice.”