Claiming Atlas (Completely Rocked Book 1)

by Jessalyn Jameson

  “But you’ve turned me down twice now.” He laughs, running his hand through his dark bangs. “That’s a first.”

  “And a second. Check your math.” I try to step past him again, but he positions himself more fully in front of me, both of us now pressed against one wall.

  He searches my gaze, his dark eyes slightly narrowed. “You don’t like me.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  His lips twitch. “But you don’t want to get to know me. You made that clear when you refused my invitation.”

  I smile, holding up two fingers. “Twice.”

  When he grins, his upper lip is slightly crooked, like there’s a scar somewhere I can’t see. I try to pull in a breath without looking like I’m panting even though I can barely breathe with how close he is right now. I drag my gaze back to his eyes, so dark they’re almost black.

  He slides his hand over mine, then twines his fingers between the two fingers I had extended and lowers our hands to our sides.

  Can’t.

  Breathe.

  I swallow hard. “I’m here with my friends. I don’t want to be rude to them.”

  “Bullshit.” His eyes narrow, but they’re amused, not angry. He slides his free hand over my hip, and I feel the warmth of his skin in every single cell of my body, like he’s lighting me up from within. “Do you know who I am?” He watches me hard, like he’s hoping to gauge the truth in my next words.

  “I’m not interested.” Lies. I’m so interested in him that every part of me is tingling right now.

  Atlas tilts his head and moves a bit closer. And now I can smell him. FML. It’s like Armani and springtime had a baby and named him Atlas. I want to rub up against him like a cat so I can take that scent with me wherever I go.

  “Really?” he asks. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been watching me like a hawk.”

  I laugh, but it sounds more like a dog with kennel cough. Great. “Me? You’ve been blatantly staring at me, Atlas—”

  He grins triumphantly and I could kick myself.

  Should kick myself.

  “So you do know me.” That cocky smirk should make me want to slap him. Instead, it makes me want to straddle his face until those full lips and that most likely talented tongue drive me to the brink of no return. He licks his lips as though he reads my mind, and I suck in a breath that makes him smirk even more.

  I am failing miserably at saying no to Atlas Reynolds.

  I roll my eyes and wave off the assumption with a flick of my wrist. “Both of those guys you sent to summon me told me who you were.”

  His eyes narrow. “You think I summoned you?”

  I scoff. “Didn’t you?”

  He smirks. “I invited a pretty girl to sit at my table.”

  His goddamn thumb is moving back and forth over the skin just above the waist of my jeans. Christ, I don’t know how much longer I can say no to this man.

  I laugh and shake my head, then move to pass him. “Looks like you have plenty of those.”

  “Plenty of what?” He tightens his grip on my waist, and slides his other hand up around my wrist. The way he holds me here and keeps me from leaving should offend me. But I want his hands all over me. From the stutter of my pulse and the catch in my breath, to the goosebumps on my skin and the wetness between my legs, my body wants nothing more than to let Atlas have his way with me.

  “Plenty of pretty girls.”

  The smile falls from his lips. “Yet I only want one.”

  My pulse speeds.

  He would discard me like the leftover two a.m. room service trays that line hotel room hallways every morning.

  His dark eyes hold mine, and something tightens low in my belly. His gaze drops to my lips and I lick them in response. My body is on autopilot, commanded only by the touch of this stranger. My body is no longer mine.

  My body is his.

  Atlas smirks. He sees it too. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me with each touch, each lick of his lips...

  The blonde from the bathroom approaches us, snapping me back to reality. He already has a body to command tonight, and it sure as shit isn’t mine. I suck in a breath and smile. “Here’s one of your pretty girls now.” I shrug out of his grasp, smile at her as I pass, then head back to the table on wobbly legs. I’m about to eat shit in these five inch heels, and I just pray that Atlas is too distracted by blondie to see me go flying.

  No one registers my presence when I return to the table, and I’m half tempted to ghost my friends, but that would be a jerk move since we’re technically supposed to be celebrating my retirement. “Hey, guys, can we hit up the next club?” My voice is shaky as hell. Can they hear it?

  Scarlet is the first to rise. She studies my face, her eyebrows bunched together, then turns back to Brandon to say something before she steps out of the roped off area. “We’ll meet up with y’all on the bus.” She links arms with me, then starts leading me toward the door. “Okay, girl, spill.”

  “There’s nothing to spill.” I glance back over my shoulder.

  He’s watching me with a smirk that says he’s quite aware of the fact that I’m freaking soaked right now and it’s all for him.

  Scarlet looks back too, then squeezes my arm. “Um, hello? Hi. Tell me why your favorite musician is standing back there undressing you with his eyes, and you’re walking out the door with me instead of him.”

  I laugh, and wave my hand like it’s nothing, but my best friend isn’t one to drop things.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Atlas

  I watch her leave, wondering who the hell she is and why the hell she avoided me even though it was obvious as fuck that she wants me. Her breath picked up speed when I touched her. Goosebumps broke out over the skin of her waist. When she licked her lips—

  “Crazy, man.” Johnny stands beside me, leaning back against my booth and nudging me with his shoulder. “Did I just see what I think I saw? Atlas Reynolds getting turned down by some random chick.” He chuckles. “Twice in one night?”

  I turn slowly and stare at him until he starts to squirm beneath my gaze. Little fucker. I should squash him like a bug. “That was no random chick.”

  “For real?” he asks. “That tall one?”

  I nod.

  “Who is she? I didn’t recognize her from the club scene.” He looks off in the direction she left a few minutes ago.

  “I’m telling you, Johnny. She was someone.” It was clear in her confidence, in the way she carries herself. She’s almost as accustomed to the spotlight as I am... but why? Who is she?

  Hands circle my waist just a split second before the sugary-sweet stench of her perfume alerts me to the blonde chick with the tongue ring. I look down at her and smile as nicely as I can. There’s still lipstick on her teeth. Don’t chicks check that shit in the mirror?

  It’s time to ditch her and this club.

  “Did you guys see who that was?” she asks, eyes wide.

  “Who?” I tense as she pushes up to press a kiss to my cheek. We made out. It was fun. But it didn’t do the job I was hoping for because it didn’t make that brunette jealous enough to climb into my booth and piss on my damn leg.

  “That gorgeous brown-haired chick. You know, the one with the”—she motions to the top of her head and swirls her hand around a bit—“up-do?” She looks up at me with her best come-hither gaze. “You were talking to her about something when you were waiting for me to come out of the bathroom. That was so sweet of you to wait for me.” She pushes up to kiss me, but I turn my head and she gets my jawline.

  I push out of her grip and busy my hands by pouring a drink so she can’t try to latch onto me again. “So, who was she?” I knew she was somebody, and now it’s like Christmas fucking Eve, and waiting for this chick to tell me the answer is like waiting for the fat man to slide down my chimney.

  Torture.

  Blondie steps past me back into my booth and sits down, completely at home, milking it now that she definitely ha
s my interest as well as my attention. She reaches to pour herself another drink from my bottle of Belvedere. Help yourself. When she’s satisfied with her drink, she looks back up at me. Her legs part, spreading her tiny black dress, and I get a clear view between her legs. No panties.

  Huh. Maybe I’ll let her ride my dick after all. I love a girl who’s not afraid to go commando.

  Looking back into her eyes, I smile and ask again. “Who was she?”

  “Kincaid Summers.” She takes a long pull of her drink. “I mean, I’ve only ever seen her in full costume, and that chick had like no makeup on and really boring hair, plus, did you see those shoes?” She scrunches her nose. “No one wears leopard anymore.”

  I loved those fucking shoes.

  I love even more the fact that I was just that close to Las Vegas’ finest—if that had been her.

  But there’s no way that was Kincaid Summers. Her face—and then some—is plastered all over my favorite titty bar. I’d have recognized her. She’s one of the top paid and in demand strippers in Vegas and I’ve somehow always managed to come here on the weekends she’s guest spotting somewhere else in the country or off that night.

  But not this time.

  I look at blondie. “Are you sure?”

  She nods. “Oh, yeah. Like, ninety-nine percent sure. My friend Carly works with her at...”

  I block her out and look back at the table across from mine. Fate put me and Kincaid Summers at the same place at the same time, and I don’t fuck with fate. Time to cross the best stripper in Vegas off my bucket list. Her friends throw money down on the tab, then start getting up to leave. Shit. This is my chance, and I’m wasting it. I walk over to their booth as the last girl steps out of it.

  “Hey,” I say to the redhead. She’s all legs, too, like Kincaid only hangs out with girls that are over five foot ten.

  I grab her elbow when she doesn’t turn around.

  She turns back to me, slowly, then settles her gaze on my hand on her elbow.

  “Sorry.” I drop my hand. “You didn’t hear me say hello.”

  She looks me up and down, then smiles as she meets my gaze. “She left already, hon.”

  I try to play it cool—Atlas Reynolds doesn’t chase after girls. “I told her I’d get all of you on the list at XS,” I lie, “but I forgot her name.”

  The chick smirks, like she doesn’t believe a thing I just said. “Well, you’re determined; I’ll give you that much.”

  A dude steps up behind her and slides a hand around her waist, looking down at me as he does so.

  Should I tell him we don’t need to whip our cocks out for a measuring contest right now? If I wanted his girl, I’d already have her.

  “My name is Lexi. There are twelve of us.” She winks and turns away from me, leaving me standing here like fucking tool, and she still hasn’t confirmed if her friend is Kincaid Summers.

  God. I am a fucking tool.

  Top Tier’s headliner better be worth this headache.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kayla

  Lexi and her guy climb on the bus last, then announce that they’re picking the next club. Fine by me. I don’t care where we go, as long as Atlas Reynolds isn’t flashing across the marquee. What an arrogant asshole.

  I can’t believe I turned him down.

  “I can’t believe you turned him down.”

  I laugh and look at Scarlet as her words mirror my thoughts. “Me neither.”

  I must be out of my mind.

  “He’s like, really hot, Kay.”

  Brandon nudges her shoulder. “I’m right here, you know. I can hear you.”

  She nuzzles her nose against his. “Not as hot as you, babe.”

  Sorry, Brandon, but Atlas is way hotter.

  When we make a quick pit stop because Staci needs fruity vape juice, everyone shuffles off the bus, leaving me alone with my thoughts of Atlas, and how I just turned him down.

  Twice.

  I grab my phone from my purse and open the Instagram app, then pull up his account. I’m only one of his bajillion followers, think he knows who I am?

  LOL.

  The most recent photo is from backstage at their last show. Nothing from tonight, or even a hint that he’s in Las Vegas. Disappointment tightens in my gut again. I’m not sure what I was expecting; like, what, he was going to post something saying where he was headed next? Because that’s what famous people do all the time, right?

  Oh, I know, maybe he’ll post about me, the girl who got away.

  Yeah. I snort. Not likely.

  And why the hell am I disappointed anyway? I turned him down, not the other way around. He had another girl’s lipstick on his mouth while his hands were on me.

  “I really must be crazy.”

  “Talking to yourself is a pretty good place to start,” Des says as she climbs back onto the bus. She pours me a fresh glass of champagne, then joins me in the back as everyone boards and we take off for our next destination.

  When I haven’t taken a sip yet, she nudges my arm. “Drink, girl.” She nods toward the front of the bus at Lexi and Scarlet who sit together whispering. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it with those two.”

  I look over at them and shake my head. Whatever they’re conspiring about won’t push Atlas from my mind. I sigh and take a sip of champagne. Oh well. I’ll see him tomorrow, dance for him, then move on with my life. At least I know I could have been with Atlas Reynolds, and that’s more than most fans can say about their favorite musician.

  We finally pull up to the Wynn, and I tuck my phone back into my purse, then exit the bus with my friends. Lexi and Scarlet stop whispering as soon as my heels hit the pavement.

  I groan. “What did you girls do?”

  Last time we all went out together, it was my twenty-fifth birthday, and they acted like I’d just turned fifty or some other major milestone. Every new place we went had a surprise awaiting me.

  It’s like they really don’t understand that I hate surprises.

  They giggle, then split up, shaking their heads innocently and acting like that wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world as they cuddle up to Brandon and whatever that other guy’s name is.

  Des links her arm through mine as we walk through the casino. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not in on any other surprises tonight.”

  I side-eye her. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s the truth, girl. Promise.” She holds her pinky up.

  I wrap my pinky with hers. “You know I hate surprises.”

  Des laughs. “But your best friend loves them.” She glances up ahead at Scarlet. “You should know better by now, Kay.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know. But, hey, I figure this is the only time I’ll retire, so there’s nothing else coming my way for her to go nuts over.”

  Des laughs, pausing briefly to stare at me like I’m crazy as we step inside the Wynn.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Oh, let’s see. Your thirtieth birthday. Your fortieth. Your wedding. The birth of each one of your kids. Your—”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll stop you there. And I’m only having one kid.” I laugh as we reach the line for XS. “Scar’s going to surprise me for the rest of my life, isn’t she?”

  Des snorts. “Yeah. You’re screwed.”

  Brandon, Scarlet, Lexi, and her date walk straight up to the front. XS is somewhat impossible to get into since Grady left for the Foundation Room, but Brandon got us in a couple days ago, so I’m sure he’ll succeed tonight.

  The bouncer unhooks the rope and steps aside.

  “Thanks Brandon,” I say as we all pass through.

  He shakes his head and raises his hands. “That wasn’t me.” Turning back around, he joins Scar and they step into the club.

  “Enjoy your night, Miss Summers.”

  I freeze, then slowly turn back to the bouncer. He doesn’t look familiar, but I don’t know everyone who’s ever seen me perform. Obviously. I smile and
incline my head quickly. “Thank you?”

  Turning back around, I stare at the back of Scarlet’s head as we walk into the club.

  “Did she really use your stage name to get us in?” Des whispers.

  “Looks that way.”

  Once we make our way inside, Des nudges me with her elbow so I’ll look at the group of guys watching us from the bar. “Mmm, girl, we should use your name every time.” She winks but I know she’s only messing with me.

  Destiny likes to keep her two lives just as separate as I do.

  If anyone here is expecting Kincaid Summers, they’re in for a rude awakening. I’m just Kayla tonight. I left Kincaid at Top Tier where she belongs. When I go out with my friends, I don’t wear the blonde wig or the red wig, or the three inch long eyelashes and thong. Kincaid is a persona, a character I play. I don’t use her name to get into nightclubs, and I certainly don’t parade her around for free drinks and publicity. I get more than enough attention on stage; I don’t need it when the spotlights turn off.

  I’m no Atlas Reynolds.

  I laugh at the thought, then follow my friends past the dancefloor as we make our way to the back where the bottle service tables are. The VIP hostess motions toward a large poolside table, and everyone starts to file in, but I stop dead in my tracks.

  Because Atlas stares up at me from one side of the booth. The side everyone else left empty, so I have no choice but to sit with him.

  I shake my head and look slowly around at my friends. Scarlet is suddenly very interested in her lap, but Lexi grins up at me proudly.

  And now I know who’s responsible for this.

  I pull my lips into my mouth and look back at Atlas.

  He grins, and I feel that slow motion of his lips all the way down, past my belly, heating me up like his mouth already has a direct connection to my clit.

  He pats the couch beside him.

  I pull in a deep breath through my nose and step toward him.

  “Hey again,” he says as I sit down.

  “Didn’t bring your girls with you?”

  He shrugs. “Only interested in one right now.”

  I’d roll my eyes if I could look away from his gaze. “Do you have a rocket ship or something?”