Knight (13 page)

No sense wasting a free night.

I changed from the cocktail dress and into my workout clothes—tights and a clingy tank that wouldn’t get tangled in my latest obsession.

Last year it was belly-dancing. The year before hula hoops. Before that, burlesque inspired nights. I prided myself on constantly innovating Sorceress with new, sexy, and exotic brands of entertainment.

My newest challenge installed a month ago, and I loved it. Hadn’t mastered it yet, but that’d come in time.

The metal rigging was tucked into the ceiling, and the twin aerial silk curtains draped from the frame to the floor. The aerial silks were a marvel of human strength, beauty, and rigorous conditioning. If I took off a few pieces of clothing while twisting within the silk and suspending myself above my adoring fans, I was bound to pop a few men’s zippers.

I chose a rich burgundy color for the silks, something to compliment my blonde hair. I hoisted myself six feet off the floor by twisting upside down and hooking my feet in the silks. Ideally, my aerial show would be a sultry tango fifteen feet in the air, but it was hard to master even with weekly classes and a private instructor.

I performed nearly naked aerial ballet with only two twisted silk ropes bound around my ankles, waist, and wrists. It looked sexy. Powerful and sleek, an extension of femininity that contorted my body in beautiful positions. I favored a vertical split, but the other girls liked when I twisted my arms within the silks and dangled in self-inflicted bondage.

Either was fine by me. The men would get a show, and I’d have my creative license to perform something other than a repetitive twerk to overplayed top 40.

“Holy
Christ
, Lyn.”

I didn’t expect an audience. I hadn’t coordinated the act yet, and my movements were still jerky, compromising my form. His voice startled me. I missed a loop around my leg. The bound silks split into two, and I lost the twisted support. My hands gripped the silk before I crashed to the stage.

That was a
long
drop. I hadn’t done it yet. If I was lucky, I wouldn’t ever smack into the ground. No telling the damage it’d cause me or my wooden stage.

Luke watched from the floor in appropriate amazement. I hooked my ankle around a layer of the rope, desperate to take the weight from my slipping wrist. I kicked the silk and created a fold for my toes before he realized how I struggled.

My heart pounded. It wasn’t because I made the mistake or that I nearly broke my neck.

It was because of him.

Not a reaction that would keep me safe—from the world or the knight bound to protect me from it.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I licked my lip. Goddamn, his eyes were royal blue even from the ceiling. “Not good for people to see us together.”

Or for me to be so close to the man I kicked from my apartment.

Reluctantly.

Idiotically.

Rightfully.

Luke smiled. “Just here for a dance.”

I laughed. “Oh, really?”

“That strange?”

“What’s Prince Charming want with my girls?”

“I’m not looking for the girls. I’m looking for you.”

He had my attention, and it wasn’t good while I wove thin fabric fifteen feet in the air. I twisted the silks again, wrapping over my hips and legs and forming a faux-harness. I sat perfectly still, a canary baiting a cat, and waited.

“Rate’s gone up. You can’t afford me, Luke.”

“I gotta talk to you.”

“We have nothing to discuss.” I shifted my weight, letting my little platform swing with crossed legs. “We said everything we needed to say.”

“Situation’s changed.”

And it would, every day, every minute, until he got what he wanted. I knew what that was now.

Me
.

“Not interested,” I said.

“Don’t pull the attitude. We have a complication.”

I didn’t like his tone. Men were only that serious because their problems got out of hand. Luke created enough crises. I couldn’t afford his brand of help anymore, not when it was delivered with equal parts generosity and catastrophe.

“I’m working,” I said.

I kicked the silk out from my hip and demonstrated a cute twirl. The material unfolded and puffed out into a transparent lining. I bound it within the second strand and created a little tent capable of holding me horizontal like a bed. It had the benefit of transparency in the right angles, silhouetting my curves in the spotlight.

Luke was impressed. It was hard to hide his enjoyment of the show, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I want a dance,” he said. “Back room.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“I’ll pay double.”

“You’ll pay triple for interrupting this routine.”

He flashed a pocket full of hundreds. “Deal. You’re mine.”

I swallowed a dozen profanities. Shannon watched from the opposite stage, eyebrow arched and phone buzzing with messages. Not good. God only knew what low-life she talked to, and the last thing I needed was word getting to her
owner
, Lash, that Luke poked around Sorceress again.

“One dance,” I said.

“That’s all I’ll need.”

I doubted that. I wrapped the silks over me, binding my midsection in the crimson material until the entire length coiled over me. Luke shouted as I released my hold. Gravity did the rest. I spun, unraveled, dramatically falling but in complete control of my motions.

But Luke leapt onto the stage. I smacked into his shoulder as he dove for me, wrapping his arms around my body and ruining the trick. The air knocked from my lungs.  Luke swore.

“Fuck, Lyn!”

That was
it
. I fought from his arms. Whether he wanted a dance or not, I had to set some hardcore fucking ground rules before he busted in on more of my life.

The VIP lounge had doors that were never to be closed unless it was under my order.

Their slam echoed over Sorceress.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

Luke settled onto the couch. He spread his legs like he expected me to crawl over him. He wouldn’t like where my feet aimed.

“Getting my dance.” He tossed a bundle of hundreds at me. Usually the money would gain my attention. It had nothing on the unfamiliar harshness in his voice. “Apparently this is the best way to corner you.”

“No one corners me.”

“Five thousand dollars says otherwise.” Luke didn’t blink. “Half now, half once my dance is over—if I’m satisfied. Judging by the tricks out front, I should get one hell of a show.”

“Five
thousand
dollars?”

“You’re becoming pretty high-class, Lyn.”

I didn’t even touch the cash. “What the hell are you doing with that much money in my club?”

“Needed something to shove down those panties you got in a twist.”

“Jokes on you. I’m not wearing panties.”

“Yeah? Then what’s keeping that stick up your ass?”

Thin ice. “Wouldn’t you love to find out?”

“I’m only mortal.”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” I expected this from Thorne, Keep, or any other Anathema hard-asses who acted bigger than their cock. Knight never needed to prove himself.

I remembered how big he truly was.

“If you won’t let me keep an eye on you, least I can do is reimburse you for the bullshit protection Thorne’s offering.”

“Jesus Christ, Luke. I don’t have time for this.”

“Make time. I’m a paying customer.” His smirk wasn’t playful. “Where’s my dance?”

“Get out of my club. Take your money. You’ll need it for your funeral costs—”

I hadn’t expected him to move. He kicked, hooking his foot around my ankle. I tripped forward. He slammed me onto his lap.

I gripped his arms.

Oh, he was in trouble.

And so was I.

I sucked in a breath. Big mistake. His cedar, masculine scent enveloped me, a blend of leather and blown chances. My fingers dug into his cut.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, the threat evaporating from my voice. “Let me go.”

“You’ve been in my lap before.”

“I learned my lesson the last time.”

“About a year ago?” Luke words roughened. “Anathema’s party. You danced on me all night.”

“We did more than dance.” I hated to admit it. Hated how I still felt that ache inside me, the need that curled my fingers against his cut.

I had wanted him then and every moment since the split. Every day during the war.  Every day that paranoia lurked in the shadows, destroying any opportunity we might have had.

I twisted onto his lap, straddling him.

He started the war. Ruined everything.

And yet his hands gripped me, forcing me to move to the grinding music I couldn’t hear over my rasping breath. My heart forged its own beat to the music. It wasn’t on time, and it had no real rhythm, but it was more honest than any pulsing song that shimmied my hips for men who didn’t deserve it.

He was hard.

That was a given. I took it as a personal insult when men didn’t swell in my presence.

Luke was no different from any other leather-bound outlaw who traded respectability for a forced respect at the edge of a blade or barrel of a gun. But one time, he might have been
more.

His hands held my hips, enveloping me in more than just his calloused warmth.

Danger wasn’t a loaded gun or high-speed chase through the desert.

It was his presence. His grip. The threat of his desire.

This dance would turn a kiss to a bite and a touch to a scratch, and it was just the sort of decision that’d land me on my knees. We’d make that mistake again and again until we lost our breath, our minds, and our lives.

I ground my hips down. He met the motion, stroking upward, bumping through the leggings and brushing everything hot and denied for too long. I curled my fingers behind his neck, offering him a shimmy as I let the music set its own teasing rhythm.

I should have stopped his hands. Shouldn’t have let his touch drift lower. He shifted my hips. Straddling him became a very dangerous place to dance.

Those royal blue eyes stared at me. I held his gaze, panting as he rubbed my knee, my hip.

And then my thigh.

It didn’t take much, just a quick rub of his fingers against the leggings. The heat pulsed between my legs, and his touch wasn’t an accident. My breath quickened.

His fingers pressed.

Circled.

Teased.

“I almost possessed you once,” he whispered. “Had you waiting and slick.”

My voice didn’t steady as he touched where he didn’t belong. “Still do, but I know better now.”

“Do you?” He pressed harder. My vision haloed, brightened as I forgot to breathe, to move. “You’re not dancing anymore.”

If I moved my hips, it’d be over. He found my clit through the leggings and danced for me.

I trembled against him. Wished I hadn’t remembered the only time I welcomed him inside me. I never felt such heat, was never filled so perfectly.

But the call had interrupted us. He pulled me from his cock, and we shivered, parted from each other as the world set on fire.

I hadn’t relaxed since that moment. My body raged for him, for any touch. Nothing satisfied it.

“We never finished that night,” I whispered.

“Give me some credit, Lyn.” He tugged me close, his lips brushing my ear. “I hardly got started.”

God, this man. I should have stopped him as his fingertips teased the waistband of my leggings, but Luke was no stranger to slipping a hand into panties and teasing his girl in the dark and quiet.

The rough brush of his calloused hand enveloped me. I should have pushed him away, should have fought before he touched that slickness that betrayed everything.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t avert my gaze.

His fingers rolled. I sucked in a useless breath as my core tightened.

He chuckled. “You stopped dancing again.”

What was I supposed to do? His touch shocked every inch of me, and just the heat pouring from his fingertips against that sensitive, aching place was enough to drive a mew from my lips.

He shifted, pressing harder against my slit. He flicked my clit and rubbed hard. A single finger teased my entrance, savoring the silky promise. He said nothing, simply pushed within me.

A single thrust of his finger.

I melted into his arms.

I came. Not dignified. Not poetic.

Just raw and hard and shuddering over a man I never should have let touch me. Not when I already questioned every brush of his fingers, whispered word, and sidelong glance. For a year I denied him. I tried to forget him. I ignored the pulse between my legs and the blush on my cheeks when I saw him.

Luke was everything I needed, and nothing about my feelings would keep us alive.

He let me breathe against him. I straightened under my own strength and braved a chance to meet his gaze. I didn’t trust the sincerity that hardened the blue.

“You gotta know I want you, Lyn.”

He released by body and let me regain a bit of poise. I dragged my hips against his, bumping a hardness so fierce it must have hurt. My breathless voice revealed too much. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“I’m tired of playing around. Wasted enough time.”

“So that’s what the tease was?” I palmed his chest, sinking my nails into thick muscle. “A game?”

“You know what I want.” His hand gripped my wrist. “You feel it too.”

“Yeah. But, unlike you, I get what I want.”

“That so?”

“If I had the inclination, you’d already be mine.”

He smiled, but I didn’t trust his dimples. Even this knight wasn’t so noble when his cock got hard. Then he became the very beast he pretended to slay.

And I was the damsel he chose to hunt.

His words caressed me. Too close. Too soft. “What stopped you?”

I hated that I shuddered as I savored his scent. “You did this to yourself. You left Anathema. You chose another path.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t about Anathema. You wanted me just as much.”

“Luke, you’ve always wanted what you couldn’t have. The woman you couldn’t save.” I nearly brushed my lips against his. His hand went to my hair, gripping, holding, guiding. I denied him. “Here’s the twist,
Knight.
I don’t need saving. You do. Always did. From yourself. From your ideals. From the life you chose.”