by Nadia Aidan
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she stared up at Dylan, whose face blazed red with naked fury. He would never know how deeply his words had just cut her. No, that wasn't how she'd imagined her wedding would turn out in a million years. “No,” she choked out on a hoarse sob as she hung her head, unable to bear the onslaught of his anger that glowed in the depths of his gaze.
Dylan exhaled a ragged breath and reached up to cup his hand behind the bun that held all of her hair together. With deft fingers he removed the pins to release the bun so that her locks fell in soft waves to her shoulders. He tangled his hand in her hair and tugged gently, forcing her to tilt her head back so that she could meet his gaze. What she saw in the depths of his eyes made her heart stop.
"God, Lena. Why did you have to marry him,” he whispered brokenly, his voice matching the sorrowful look in his eyes. She barely had a moment to figure out what everything meant, before he lowered his head and crushed his lips against hers.
Heat sizzled across her skin at the first brush of his lips against her mouth. She closed her eyes as her nipples tightened and wrapped her arms behind his neck, drawing him closer to her. The feel of his hard body against hers caused her to moan and when she opened her mouth he seized the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss. She could taste the champagne on his lips and she shuddered, her body becoming limp and as wobbly as jelly. Her hands slid up his neck to tug at his hair as she clutched him to her tightly.
He groaned against her mouth, and reached down to cup her ass in his large hands, grinding his now stiff erection into her belly. She shivered at the feel of his hard cock. God, she wanted him so bad. She slid one hand down his body to stroke his dick through his tuxedo trousers. She pressed harder when he sucked in a sharp breath. With her other hand she clumsily fumbled with the belted knot of her robe, but stopped when he abruptly pushed her away.
She stared at him with shocked eyes. He panted deeply, and his sun-bronzed face was flushed with a red glow.
"What are we doing?"
She shook her head, unable to speak. She knew what they were trying to do before he stopped them.
"This is wrong, Lena. You're married now.” He dragged a hand down his face and backed away from her toward the door. “I—I'm going to send Maia up here to stay with you,” he said in a rush and scurried out of her room before she could even form a protest.
That was the last time Dylan had allowed himself to be alone with her—at least it was the last time while he was still single. The next time he'd met with her alone it had been to announce that he was engaged to his bombshell, redheaded Angelina Jolie look alike assistant. When he'd left after his big announcement, Lena had locked herself in her bedroom and cried for the rest of the night. What little hope she'd had that he actually harboured deeper feelings for her instantly died. She resigned herself to the grim reality that they would never be more than just friends.
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Chapter Three
Dylan turned the page of his newspaper and smiled at the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs. Lena.
She thought she could avoid him all morning, but she had—he glanced at his watch—about thirty more minutes to come downstairs before he went up after her.
Fifteen more minutes passed by before he heard her hushed footsteps along the staircase.
He set down the paper and reached for his cup of coffee to hide his knowing grin when he saw her.
Most Saturdays Lena was up and out by ten am dressed in something body hugging on her way to the gym. But today was different. She'd skipped the gym entirely and hovered in her room until close to noon and instead of tight spandex pants and a low cut tank top she now wore baggy sweats with the word Gators plastered across the chest and down one pant leg.
He set the cup aside to fold his arms across his chest. If she thought her ‘battle armour’ would work, she was sadly mistaken. He hadn't forgotten about their bet and her choice of clothing certainly was not a deterrent.
He lifted a single brow. “Nice outfit."
She blinked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She'd obviously thought he wouldn't figure out what she was trying to do. She cleared her throat. “Um, so how was work last night."
He smiled at her attempt to change the subject, but he let her get away with it. As the co-owner of Jacobs & Buchanan PR Firm, his job involved planning and hosting a lot of marketing events for large sports corporations and their sponsored athletes. Dylan did more of the planning and Chad was more of the host, but with Chad having to fly out to New York for another event, Dylan had no choice but to attend the Nike party for the launch of their new athletic shoe, with NBA star Dwight Howard as the face of the new product. “It was fine,” he said and stood up from the couch to cross the room to the kitchen and empty the remains of his morning coffee into the sink.
"G—good. That's good,” she stammered.
He grinned at her stuttering words. She was nervous. With his back still to her he finally said what had undoubtedly been on both of their minds since yesterday morning.
"Have you had a chance to come up with your terms for the bet?” He asked and turned around as he was drying his hands on a small dish rag.
Her throat pushed out as she swallowed hard. “Um. Yeah. About that.” She cleared her throat and let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously, Dylan this bet is not a good idea."
He shrugged. “Feel free to back out, but if you do, then I win and you still don't know my terms."
She released a long, drawn out breath. “I—I'm not backing out. I—"
"Good. So what are your terms then?"
She pursed her lips into a frown and shot him a hard look. He ignored it. If she wasn't backing out then he wanted to hear her conditions, not how this was a bad idea. He'd already heard enough of that from Chad, who'd called him from New York that morning to remind him just how big of a mistake he was making.
She crossed her arms over her breasts and stood up straighter. “Okay. Since we're both in—,” She paused to look at him with questioning eyes that said she was giving him one last chance to reconsider, but he just nodded his head, urging her to continue, much to her obvious displeasure. “—then these are my terms."
She held his gaze as she listed her conditions. “If we find pleasure out of any of these—,” she hesitated, “tips then we have to be honest—"
"I think our physical responses to them should be honest enough.” He struggled to hold back his laughter when her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a deep red.
"Y—yeah, right. But still if we ask each other how something was then we must tell the truth if this is going to work."
"Okay. Fair enough."
"You said the tips don't work, but I said they did. The winner will be determined by how many that worked compared to how many that didn't."
"All right.” He shifted against the kitchen sink. “What else?"
"If I win then I become the official owner of your new 2008 BBC G.T.X."
He stood up straight. “My bike?” He scowled when she nodded. That was all she wanted was his stupid bike. He wanted to shake her. They were about to spend the next two weeks as lovers but instead of demanding something of true value from him, she chose his stupid bike. He tamped down his frustration with her and nodded his head. If she wanted his worthless bike then she could have it. He on the other hand wanted more—far more.
"That's fine. Anything else?"
She nodded. “Yes. I have just one rule and one rule only.” She chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds before she spoke again. “This is just for fun so when it's over you must promise me that we go back to being the same friends we are right now."
He clenched his jaw tight as fury rushed through his veins. He really wanted to shake her now. She was putting up a wall. Keep him at arm's length as a friend and nobody gets hurt. But it wouldn't work, not this time because everything was about to change.
He gritted his teeth
together and nodded stiffly. “Promise,” he bit out tightly as he crossed two fingers together behind his back. If he had anything to say about it, friends would be the last thing they would be when this bet was done.
Lena reached behind her back and pulled the infamous magazine from the waistband of her sweats. She tapped it against her hand with false bravado. “Okay, so when do we start?"
"Now.” He walked past her to grab his coat and shrug it on.
She spun around to face him. “Where are you going?"
He grinned. “Where are we going? Get your coat, and bring the magazine."
In a trance, she dragged on her coat and let him usher her from the house. She settled into the passenger seat of his black Dodge Durango and buckled up. When he got in beside her she finally let her curiosity get the best of her.
"So where are we going?"
He flashed her a smile as he turned the ignition over. “You'll see soon enough,” he said and backed out of the driveway.
They headed down 85 away from Buckhead, past Midtown. When they got off on Metropolitan Parkway, Lena shot him a curious look then glanced at the magazine. They were headed to East Point. How were sex tips involved in their little excursion?
When they pulled into the parking lot of Chateau Desire Lena finally understood. She sat there frozen as she stared at number six on the list—Next time you're at a strip club together get up on that pole and strip before the entire club. Men love to see their women strip, but what they don't tell you is that it gives them a rush to see you do it in front of other men too!
She lifted her gaze to his smiling face. “Number six?” she croaked out.
His smile grew wider. “Yep."
Lena barely registered piling out of the truck or that sensing her nervousness he held her hand as they walked toward the front door. She glanced around the parking lot. With the exception of about five cars, it was empty.
"One of my clients threw a party here so I know the owner. She's allowed me to let you dance here. Marie is going to help you get dressed herself."
Her stomach turned over and she lifted startled eyes to his face. “Dressed? Dressed in what?"
He knocked his fist against the door three times before he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Baby, you're going to strip for me and as cute as you are in those sweats I think we can come up with something better."
She shook her head and opened her mouth to protest when a beautiful middle aged black woman swung open the door.
"Dylan,” she said warmly, stepping aside. “Come in.” Lena walked in behind him and froze as soon as she entered. The place clearly catered to an upscale clientele. Soft white and red silks draped the walls, and lights that flickered like candles glowed in the background. There was a raised stage with three poles and a large mirror that took up the entire back wall of the stage. The décor was gorgeous with plush red velvet chairs that surrounded tables covered in pristine white tablecloths topped with a single red rose in a crystal vase. In a word, the place was elegant.
"Ah, you must be Lena,” the woman who she figured was Marie said. “You are even more beautiful than Dylan described.” Beautiful? Dylan had described her as beautiful? She turned her shocked gaze toward him, but could not make out his expression with the muted light.
He tipped his head at them then. “I will leave you in the very experienced and capable hands of Marie.” He winked at her. “I can't wait to see what you come up with,” he grinned and turned to walk toward the bar located in the very back of the club.
"Dylan! Dylan!” She called after him, but he either didn't hear her over the music or he chose to ignore her.
"Come along, Lena. Let's get you ready for your handsome boyfriend."
Her eyes snapped to Marie's face as she allowed her to drag her to the dressing room backstage. “Dylan's not really my boyfriend."
Marie lifted her lips into a gentle smile. “Maybe not right now, but from the way he talked about you on the phone earlier it will only be a matter of time before that changes."
Lena furrowed her brow and started to shake her head to tell the older woman that she was mistaken, but before she could open her mouth she was being plopped down in front of a vanity and outfits, the likes of which she'd never seen, were being thrown at her.
Marie fussed with her hair and make-up for almost thirty minutes, before finally settling on a casual style that framed her face and a rosy blush and matching lipstick that went nicely with her lavender eye shadow. She admired her reflection in the mirror and had to admit, Marie was good at what she did. She met the woman's eyes in the mirror.
"So what do I wear?"
She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. But she'd made the bet so now she had to go through with all of the insane tips covered in the infamous magazine.
Marie arched her eyebrow and gave her a long look. “What do you feel most comfortable in, honey?"
Lena scrunched her face into a frown as her gaze darted about the room and then down at the items still piled high on her lap. She wanted to say there was nothing in that room that made her feel comfortable.
She had done some wild things in her lifetime and she certainly wasn't shy, but this was Dylan they were talking about. He alone made this experience that much different. She shrugged her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “Dylan's favourite colour is black.” She said it with such uncertainty that it could have been a question.
"But what's your favourite colour? You're gonna be the one out there dancing, not him darlin'."
"Well, my favourite colour is red and I do like lingerie,” she offered hesitantly.
Marie snapped her fingers as her eyes lit up. “I have just the thing."
Fifteen minutes later she was dressed in a red satin and lace strapless corset with a matching g-string and garters. Her toned legs were encased in sheer black thigh high stockings and black stiletto platform heels framed her small feet.
She ran her hands down her figure and smiled at the woman she saw staring back in the mirror. She was gorgeous. In general, she considered herself nice looking. She ate well, worked out regularly and tried to take care of herself. She wasn't obsessive with it, but she enjoyed dressing up and looking nice whenever she could.
She spun around and hugged Marie. “Thank you. I love what you did with me.” She beamed
She waved her hand. “Oh, honey it was nothing. You were perfectly lovely without my help. Now as soon as you're ready just step around that corner onto the stage and the music will begin,” she said pointing in the direction behind Lena's head.
Lena froze. “Music?"
"Well, honey you are here to strip for Dylan."
"Y—yes, I know. But I thought you were going to teach me some moves or something before you sent me out there.” She could feel herself panicking again. She could not go out there and just dance in front of him. This was insane.
Marie's quirked the corner of her mouth into a lopsided grin. “Well Dylan told me that back in college you used to win all of those local amateur strip contests so I thought you would be fine—"
"That was years ago, Marie.” She gasped. “And besides I never took off all my clothes then."
The older woman patted her face and smiled. “It will all come back to you, I'm sure. I get the feeling you're a natural.” And then she leaned in closer as if she had a secret to tell. “And honey, I don't think you'll have any problems taking off your clothes for that man out there. Good Lord, if I were just twenty years younger.” She patted her face again and sauntered out of the dressing room. “Good luck honey and just remember to have fun,” she called after her and then disappeared around the corner.
'Right. Fun.” She repeated to herself as she ran her sweaty palms down her sides trying to calm her jittery nerves. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She could do this. She'd done it many times before. And Marie was right, she was a natural. She still popped in to pole dancing classes at her local gym every now and then just to see if she sti
ll had it. And you know what? She did.
She snapped her eyes open. “I can do this,” she said finally and strutted around the corner onto the stage.
As soon as she stepped out onto the stage she stilled. She'd forgotten just how blinding the spotlight was. The music came on at the same time her eyes finally adjusted to the light. Her eyes darted around the club, searching for other patrons, but the only person she saw in the room was Dylan. She glanced down at him and grinned when she recognised the tune that now blared from the speakers. Let's Ride by Montell Jordan and Master P. She'd danced to that all the time back in the day. Her heart skipped a beat at the smile on his face. He'd asked Marie to play it. She felt tiny butterflies flutter in her stomach as she walked forward and grasped the middle pole with her left hand. That is what she loved about Dylan. He always remembered the little things that no one else seemed to. Tiny things that others missed, he never did.
Then as the music washed over her and the euphoria of being up on that stage with Dylan, and whoever else was in the room watching finally hit her, she pushed all other thoughts from her head.
Almost in a trance she moved her body to the rhythm of the music that pulsed around her. She held Dylan's gaze as she grasped the pole firmly and swung around it three times before releasing it to freestyle to the beat.
She did this throughout the entire song, alternating between executing moves on the pole and dancing around the stage, whipping her feathery soft hair around her head as she rocked to the rhythm of the beat.
At the sound of the cd changing she stopped as if the spell was broken. She met Dylan's gaze at the same time My Body by LSG came on. Another favourite. He quirked his finger at her and mouthed the words come here. She walked to the end of the stage and stepped down the three small steps. Dylan sat in the very front and she made her way to him.
She stopped at the table where he sat and held his gaze. Her nipples tightened at the desire that smouldered in the depths of his eyes. A tiny thrill of pleasure slid down her spine. He wanted her. That much was clear and it gave her a small bit of confidence as she stood there half naked and humming with energy from her erotic dance.