She’d been doing this for so long that she knew how to zone everything and everyone out and not let the guy know that while he was nearly coming in his pants, she was doing a checklist of tomorrow’s chores in her head.
She had certain rules, though. No one creepy, first of all. No one too good-looking, either, and no one bigger than the smallest bouncer. She already knew one man in particular who fit all three criteria and she was planning to avoid him like the plague, even though a rogue part of her heart insisted she take him by the hand—and drag him, if necessary—to any place private.
Sarah found herself wondering what the worst that could happen. That scared the hell out of her, and in her opinion, made the final strike against Hercules. He might not be creepy in the traditional sense, but the effect he was having on her usually balanced hormone level, not to begin mentioning what he was doing to her common sense, was more than just a speck unsettling.
And that one touch.
She still felt it. Still felt the brush of butterfly wings against her stomach lining, still felt as if he’d branded her cheek for anyone to see. A part of her wanted to check a mirror to see if he’d left a mark. Property of… She felt her knees weaken again, simply at the thought of it. She imagined if he ever really got the opportunity to touch her, she’d melt away for sure, although probably only so far as the nearest flat surface, where she’d strip for him all over again and beg him to do all manner of things she’d long ago determined never to have done to her again.
Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she struggled to push away the truth—that with him, there would be no have-tos. No, she’d be more than willing, wanting, and probably—if he wanted her to—begging, and that made her furious.
Sarah Rose Bennet does not beg.
Air swirled deep into her lungs as she made her way to the first table. Smile placed carefully on her lips, she loosened the sash of her robe enough to show some skin and prayed she wouldn’t trip in these stupid shoes.
* * * *
Drago watched her. She made her way from table to table, socializing as if this were some damn brothel from another era. He felt rage prickle beneath his skin at even the thought of another man’s touch on her skin. Her laughter seemed a bit too loud, a touch too strained, to be real. He found himself wishing he could make her laugh. In fact, it rattled him how much he needed to hear it, the soft sound of her laughter.
He wanted her in his bed so desperately that his nails bit into his palms from clenching his fists so fiercely against the torrent of emotion threatening him.
“You know she’s yours for fifty bucks.”
The voice cut into his consciousness almost painfully. He forced his eyes from the Phoenix to see who dared speak to him.
“Excuse me?”
It was an older man, very well dressed, wearing what Drago recognized as six hundred dollar cologne. He had a rather feral smile pasted on his full lips as he eyed Drago, obviously sizing him up, but for what exact purpose Drago wasn’t certain.
“Lap dance. Fifteen minutes of heaven. Fifty bucks.”
Drago had no doubts about the heaven part, but no fucking way would he settle for fifteen minutes. He needed every ounce of strength he had left, not to shove his fist into those sneering thousand-dollar a tooth caps.
The caveman wanted out.
That was the part of himself that scared him, in part because he knew any woman in her right mind would refuse to put up with him for long, and in part because he really might not be able to control it. He smiled tightly, playing the civilized game as well.
“Not interested.”
Neither spoke for a time. When Drago watched his Phoenix take the hand of a sniveling little virgin and disappear into the back, he calmed himself by a visualization technique he’d mastered. With slow, even breaths, he visualized his fist, first going through the glass and plaster wall behind him, then in to the soft tissue of the stomach of the man beside him. He nearly felt the yield of flesh against his knuckles and they flinched in reaction.
“No one’s ever touched her before.”
The low acerbic tone drew his attention, Drago allowed some of the tension to release from his body upon exhaling.
“She’s quick. She also doesn’t like anyone touching her.”
At that bit of contradictory information, Drago felt no choice but to turn to the man and play his stupid game.
“A stripper who gives lap dances, who doesn’t like to be touched?”
He shrugged, then clasped his hands behind his back, his dark gaze scrutinizing the partying crowd.
“She’s a puzzle.” Now that he had Drago’s attention, he no longer seemed interested in it, not sparing him the slightest glance as he added. “Interesting to figure out, though.” He tapped the lapel of Drago’s jacket with the back of his hand, and Drago drew another slow breath to keep from killing him. “If you change your mind about the lap dance, have someone come and get me. She won’t do just anyone.”
Before he was completely out of earshot, Drago employed his most condescending tone to ask, “And you are?”
His shot hit its target. Drago felt some release from watching the man’s spine go stiff. Without looking back, he uttered, “The owner, of course,” and wandered into the crowd, swallowed almost immediately by the revelers.
* * * *
Drago had no idea what he was still doing there. His Phoenix had fulfilled her duties for the evening. The bartender told him she only danced twice and the second time, adorned with the sheerest wings of gold, she’d once again managed to freeze his brain and leave him a witless moron. Once again, he watched her work the crowd, picking small, insignificant men to lavish her attentions on.
For the most part the men were inconsequential, but at one point Drago watched one man circle her in his arms and a surge of testosterone had him storming to rip the man’s arms from his sockets. Fortunately, one of the bouncers got to him first, efficiently removing his arms from The Phoenix without bloodshed, thus saving the man from a lengthy hospital stay and—he had to admit—saving himself from a lengthy prison stay.
He had no illusions about her by evening’s end. She was an actress, a seductress, and more than able to handle herself. He watched her walk the edge, enticing the men just far enough, never more. She was a master at deception and though he knew that, he still wanted her. He found himself intensely curious to know who she really was beneath the wig, without the costumes, or the sweet fake smile and pleasant laughter.
Thoughts of her body open to his exploration, his hands touching her, burying his nose against her skin, in her hair, in her pussy, kept him in a constant state of arousal.
He wanted to breathe her into his soul so she’d always be there. He wanted to know everything about her, wanted to claim her in the most primal way a man could claim a woman. He wanted her so sated by his hand, his mouth, his body, that she wouldn’t be able to move. Wouldn’t leave him. Ever.
Unfortunately, by this time, she was probably long gone, while he still nursed his latest bourbon like a pathetic lovesick schoolboy.
“I’m curious.”
The soft voice moved over him like an ocean breeze, feminine, carrying a scent of renewal and promise. He’d either had way more to drink than he thought, or she had crept up to stand directly behind him. Slowly, he turned the chair to find out which.
When he saw her, she was still dressed—or undressed, as the case may be—for work. A soft fall of platinum hair brushed her bare shoulders, she wore a shawl made from a loose weave of iridescent blues and greens, with only a pair of silk panties beneath it.
Christ, he wanted to touch her again. Thought he could honestly die from the wanting of it. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping to render her spell a little less potent.
“What would someone as lovely as you, obviously the queen of her court, be so curious about that she deigned to walk among the mortals?”
He couldn’t believe how even his voice had come out. His h
and was shaking. He fisted it at his side and watched as she seemed to be having similar troubles. She slowly, deliberately took in several deep breaths. Her fingers twitched. He saw her eyes dilate and caught a hint of her scent. She was as wet for him as he was hard for her and that knowledge brought him precariously close to the edge of coming right on the spot.
She slowly came up beside him and leaned against the bar. He caught the softest scent of rose, vanilla and musk as it wafted past him. The club was just this side of closing and the crowd had dwindled to only a handful, making it easy to hear her breath as it escaped her lungs.
“I walk among the mortals all the time.” She tipped her chin up, playing into the image he’d given her. “However, normally I’m long gone by this hour. Beauty sleep and all.”
She gave him a miniscule smile, and he obliged her with a slight nod. Her smile widened. “Not the flatterer?”
“Did you need me to be?”
Her eyes narrowed for a second, one side of her mouth hitched. Drago could only imagine how incredibly beautiful she’d be if she truly smiled.
“No. Honestly I’m grateful you’re not.” She released a breath, her shoulders relaxing some. Drago responded by turning towards her in his chair. He didn’t dare touch her. He knew she’d be like a rabbit, if he reached she’d run and he had no intention of losing her now. Sitting this close, he could see her skin was lightly dusted in gold powder that made all of her glow faintly.
“Surely you must hear all night how beautiful you are, but I’m still waiting to find out what has you so curious. I have the terrible feeling it has something to do with me, but I can assure you the rumors about me and one of your bouncers were greatly exaggerated.” He gave her a wicked smile. “We only dated casually. It was never serious.”
Laughter shot from her mouth, her hand going quickly to cover it so Drago could no longer see it, but her eyes… ah, her eyes sparkled. Just like he’d imagined. He raised one brow at her and angled his head marginally closer.
“Now you’re curious and amused.”
“True. And because you’ve so amused me, and no one ever does, I’ll drop the silly act and just tell you straight out. There’s a pool going on backstage and I wasn’t allowed to leave before I had my shot at you. But seeing as you’re hung up on one of the bouncers, I don’t suppose you’ll accept my offer, either. Well, I think that news will make all the girls sleep better tonight, anyway.”
Drago’s sharp bark of laughter surprised even himself. Up until moments ago, he would have sworn he didn’t have any laughter in him. He reached out and brushed bangs from her brows and gave her a knowing look.
“So what color is it really?”
Her mouth opened softly.
“This is my best wig. How’d you know?”
He captured a few strands between his thumb and finger and rolled them, capturing her pale gaze with his.
“This hair is harsh. Yours isn’t.”
She leaned back infinitesimally.
“How would you know?”
Drago leaned on the bar, his face so close to hers now that it would take only a fraction of movement to claim her mouth in a scorching kiss.
“Because I’ve dreamt it.”
He felt her breath against his lips, making his cock stiffen further. He was so close to reaching for her that he bit the inside of his cheek again.
“Do you find that helps?”
He said nothing so she pointed at his face. “Biting your jaw like that. Is it to keep you from saying something you shouldn’t?”
“No.” He stared at her a long minute wondering if she’d always be able to see through him where others never had. “I do it to distract my body from feeling things I wish it weren’t.”
Her eyes got large and round, and her lush mouth formed a small ‘o’.
“Feelings for the bouncer. Is it Gregory? Because I always suspected him of that lifestyle.”
For the second time in minutes Drago found himself laughing heartily. Damn, but it felt good. He leaned on the bar again, whispering conspiratorially, “What’s the pool about?”
She shrugged, the movement managing to shift her breasts under the delicate shawl so he had a most excellent view of two flawless nipples. Hard and erect, they begged for his touch.
Soon.
Not sure if he was assuring her nipples, or himself, but soon he would roll his tongue over those beautiful tight nubs, suck and bite on them until they glistened from the moisture of his mouth. Then he’d run his thumb over one while he worked the other with his tongue, switching when she began to writhe beneath him, begging for his touch elsewhere, begging for his cock deep inside her. Then he’d...
“Who you’d let give you a dance.”
Her matter-of-fact reply both stunned and intrigued him. “Really?” As she was the only woman in the club not to offer, he gathered she hadn’t been part of the pool, but then, hadn’t she just admitted to it being her turn? Or had that simply been a manifestation of his wishful thinking?
“So is that why you’re here now? To offer me a dance?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, obscuring the all-too-brief view and leaned away from him.
“No.” Her tongue ran over the underside of her top lip. Head cocked to one side, she seemed to be sizing him up, much like the way the owner had earlier. “I just came to find out why you said ‘no’ to everyone else.”
He smiled. “Hence, curious.”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
Her hand was splayed on the bar, so Drago ran one finger along the top of her soft skin and reveled when he saw the breath freeze in her lungs.
“Why didn’t you ask?”
She slid her hand away from his.
“I wasn’t interested.”
She pulled the shawl that much tighter around her, as if the fragile woven piece had some mysterious protective force or as if it wasn’t entirely see-through. Drago gave her a wicked, knowing smile, brought his face within a breath of hers, and uttered two simple words. “You lie.”
* * * *
Sarah’s mouth dropped open on a gasp. Her eyes twinkled and a slow grin spread across her face. God, she was finding this man utterly fascinating. Pressing a palm to her breast she swore, “I never.” But she did and she knew it. Ever since she was three and had been caught with a carton of cookies. But lie was such a strong word, she preferred to think of it as giving the truth color. Life could be so boring in simple black and white.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she told bald-faced lies. Even with the cookies, there had been an elaborate story of how she’d been simply checking to see if they’d gone bad, in order to save the rest of her family from the horror of bad cookies.
To Sarah’s surprise, while she’d been occupying herself, justifying her latest lie—after all the man was arrogance personified, it would do him good to have someone turn him down—he moved closer. His cologne was some rich woodsy scent created for the sole purpose of driving a woman first from her clothes, then absolutely certifiable. She inhaled deeply anyway, drawing the intoxicating scent into the deepest parts of her. Heat emanated off his hard body and soaked through her until she had an overwhelming desire to place her palm against his heart.
“But you do.”
His tone was slick, his wicked grin the most disarming thing she’d ever seen and she found it very hard to keep up the pretenses she usually had around men. This close, he was even more appealing. Hard features were softened by the glint in his eyes, his body a sculpted work of art and his lips…good Lord, those lips were sin incarnate.
She had to admit when the girls forced her out here, claiming it only fair that she got shot down too, she’d put up a big show of resistance while in reality she’d been thrilled for the excuse. She wanted to be this close to him, had wanted it all night. Had pretended each guy she’d taken to the back was him.
She’d been bored lately and wanted to play with fire for a while. Wanted to know if all she’d been feeling
this evening was really him or just some weird side effect of the full moon or her coming cycle or something else equally bizarre. At least one thing had been clearly answered—it was all him.
“You want me.” The grin on both their faces melted as his tone darkened and Sarah was forced to face the bare truth for once. “You tremble from wanting me.” He motioned to her hands that were indeed shaking lightly. “You’ve wanted me from the moment our eyes met.” His finger grazed the skin along her neck and Sarah was helpless to resist the shiver that ran her spine even as his touch burned. “And you want me now, or you wouldn’t be here.”
He was right. Everything he said was true, but she’d never admit to any of it. She needed a way to adjust the balance of power here. This was her club. She was on top. The problem was, he’d done some trick with smoke and mirrors and dizzying arousal that had her feeling unquestionably on the bottom. She straightened her shoulders and leaned into him, meeting the challenge in his eyes with one of her own.
“Then take pity on a girl and let me give you a lap dance.”
“You’re not a girl. You’re a woman, and I sure as hell want more from you than fifteen minutes.” His lips were so close to hers that she wasn’t sure if they were touching or not. “I want you for the whole night.”
Chapter 3
Sarah fought to hold her façade in place against a surge of desire. “I’m a stripper, not a prostitute. There is a difference.”
She waited. His breath, scented with bourbon and cherries, drifted over her. Swallowing against steadily growing need, she consciously regulated her breathing. His eyes were so dark, and so focused solely on her, she felt probed to the depths of her soul. His strength made her ache in places that hadn’t ached since she’d been a kid. Her heart worried her the most, though.
“I didn’t offer to pay you. I offered to pleasure you. A deep, thorough, satisfying bliss like you’ve never known.”
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