Tease (12 page)

“Maybe she shouldn’t live here.”

“Shh!” I shushed him, my eyes flying to the door. “I am not kicking her out!”

“It might not be safe.”

“I’m perfectly safe. Our doors lock and this apartment is on the second floor.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Besides, where else is she supposed to go? And I like her.”

“I like her, too.”

“She already signed the lease anyway,” I finished, grabbing my duffle. This conversation was over.

“Hey,” Cam said when I would have brushed past him. His hand wrapped around my upper arm and towed me closer. “Don’t be mad. I’m just thinking about your safety.”

“And I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”

He reached out and slid the duffle strap off my shoulder and hefted it onto his. Then his hand moved off of my arm and slid around my back, pulling me closer so my body came directly up against him.

He dipped his head and captured my lips as his other arm wound around me, locking me in place. A low groan rumbled in the back of his throat as our lips collided over and over. I reached up, my hands sliding around his head and burying themselves in his hair at the base of his neck. I tugged at the strands, drawing him closer, and my tongue snaked out to mingle with his.

His hands didn’t stay at my back for very long. Instead, they cupped my butt, pressing me even closer, and I gasped when his solid arousal brushed against my belly. Lust, plain and simple, swamped me. If it had been an ocean, I surely would have drowned. It was like I was made just for him and he knew exactly how to illicit desires, cravings, needs from me that I was beginning to think I didn’t possess.

I delved my hands into the neck of his shirt, my fingernails raking over the smooth skin of his upper back. His shirt was in my way. I didn’t want it between us. I wanted to run my hands all over the body I couldn’t stop staring at this morning on the beach.

But he pulled away. “Fuck, Harlow. You’re so damn responsive. Every time I touch you, it’s like you melt in my palms.”

I totally did.

It was completely embarrassing.

Once again, Harlow acts like a nympho.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, then paused. What did a girl say when she acted like a complete ho? I don’t get out much? Yeah, because that would be believable. Hell, at this point I was starting to think I lost my virginity along the way and just forgot.

Sex with Cam would be unforgettable.

Ahh, geez. There I go again.

Maybe I
was
a nympho.

“Don’t ever apologize,” he said, pulling me against him and kissing the top of my head. “I fucking love it. You make me feel like I have some kinda sex powers.”

I laughed.

“Are you laughing at me?” he growled.

“Only a guy would think he has sex powers.”

“You saying I don’t?” he asked slyly, reaching down and slipping his fingers up my dress and caressing my inner thighs.

My back arched and I sucked in a breath.

He chuckled. “Yep. I got powers.”

Then he released me and hitched my bag a little farther onto his shoulder. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

I called a good-bye to Roxie and we headed down to the curb. “No bike?” I said, a little disappointed.

“I didn’t think a helmet would feel too good over that knot on your head. Besides, you have a concussion. Traveling on a bike isn’t a good idea.”

“You act like I need to be on bed rest,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Would bed rest really be that bad?” he asked, giving me a heated stare.

My cheeks flushed.

He laughed.

“You’re quite the contradiction, babe. One minute you’re like a firecracker in my arms and the next minute, you’re blushing like a virgin.”

A nervous laugh slipped out as I reached for the door and slid into the passenger seat. He caught the door as I swung it closed. He looked at me with squinty eyes. I could see the debate raging inside his head… was she or wasn’t she?

I licked my lips nervously, not really sure what to say.

“Harlow,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse.

My eyes met his.

“Shit,” he swore. He knelt down between the door and my seat. “Are you a virgin?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

He groaned… the kind of groan that implied pain. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because of this morning… in bed. I went too far. I just… the way you respond to me, I would have sworn you were experienced.”

My cheeks flamed. This wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation I wanted to have. But if I wasn’t mature enough to have this conversation with him, then I had no business being in his arms. And I wholly wanted to be in his arms.

“You didn’t go too far. I… wanted it, which you could tell.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve never felt like this,
like that
, with anyone before.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t either. And I’m not a virgin.”

“Really?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “No, that ship sailed a long time ago.”

I rolled my eyes. “I meant that you haven’t felt like this before either.”

He stood and shut the door between us but was able to lean over the side because the top was still down. Balancing on the top of the door, he leaned close, kissing me in a way that was meant to be brief but deepened the minute our lips moved.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back and motioning between us. “This is new even for me.”

I tilted my head to the side. “So we’re kind of both virgins?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, babe.” He chuckled and kissed me on the tip of my nose. Then he went around and jumped into the car without opening his door.

Before backing out of the parking spot, he looked at me and half smiled. “A stripper who’s a virgin. That’s got to be a first.”

The wind carried away my laugh as we drove away.

10

The Mad Hatter was beyond packed. It was so busy that every table was full. There were two bachelor parties on both sides of the room, and it was standing room only around the stage.

It made me incredibly nervous.

“Is every weekend like this?” I asked Roxie as we dressed backstage.

“Pretty much.”

My stomach churned. I felt like I was going to be sick. How in the world was I going to convince a crowd this big that I was sexy without taking off my clothes?

The first three girls that just finished their routines stripped all the way down to nothing but thongs. Money practically rained down on them as they danced.

I wasn’t sure I could do that, even for raining money.

I missed my first two dances of the night because the bar was so packed that Adam told me to stay on the floor and serve drinks. I didn’t mind; in fact, I was relieved. I put on the black bustier, the stockings, and the heels and laughed and smiled with the best of them. I made pretty good tips and at least doing this, I felt a little less exposed.

But as the night went on, the crowd grew louder and drunker.

Adam found me and told me to get backstage so I could do some dancing to give some of the other girls a break.

“Don’t freak out,” Roxie told me over the music and the crowd.

I pulled out a pink bustier, one that laced up the front with black satin ribbons. Then I put on a tiny pair of black boy shorts with pink skulls on them. The purple stripe was already in my hair and I decided just to leave it down around my shoulders. Then I slipped on the black stilettos and added some pink lipstick and some extra eye makeup.

“That outfit is hot,” Roxie said, looking me over.

“I hope so,” I muttered.

I went to my place behind the curtain as my heart pounded and my palms sweated. The crowd was so loud that I had to strain to hear the DJ announce me.

The music started up (another classic rock song), and I started moving, stepping out and strutting down the stage toward the pole. I’d avoided the pole so far, but I didn’t know what else to do.

As I strutted, my shoe caught on something (likely thin air) and I stumbled. Thankfully, I didn’t fall, but one of the guys pushed up to the edge of the stage reached out and grabbed my waist. “Whoa there, sweetheart,” he said, pushing me back up and slapping me on the butt.

I glanced toward the back of the club where Ty stood glaring in the direction of mister grabby hands. I gave him a slight shake of my head and he relaxed. Then I turned back to the man who touched me and put the toe of my heel on his shoulder. The crowd liked that so I did a little move and then shoved off the guy, making him fall backward.

He deserved it.

Hands reached for me as I turned myself around the pole, and I wanted to gag. I did not want just anyone’s hands on me. I only wanted one set of hands on me.

Cam’s.

Just thinking his name was a mistake because it halted my movements, and I turned in the direction of the bar, my eyes automatically seeking him out.

He was handing someone a beer when he seemed to sense I was looking and he glanced up. Our eyes met.

He nodded his head ever so slightly, telling me I could do this.

I started moving.

For him.

I pretended he was the only guy in the room.

In that moment, he was.

I stuck a finger in my mouth, wet it, and then trailed it down my chest. My fingers scraped all the way down my thighs and then back up, right into the center of my legs. Cam’s eyes never left me as he leaned forward on the bar, still watching.

I spun around, spreading my legs and then grabbing my butt with both hands. I stopped and looked over my shoulder, directly at him.

And then I strutted to the end of the stage where two men were standing, watching. “Give a girl a hand, boys?” I said, holding out my hands.

They were only too happy to oblige and then both lifted me down.

The crowd parted as I moved; the spotlight followed the path I took. My eyes never strayed from my target, from my destination.

When I got to the bar, I grabbed a man by the back of his shirt (frankly, I was offended he wasn’t looking at me to begin with) and tugged, yanking him away from the bar.

“Hey!” he yelled until he got an eyeful.

I smiled, grabbed his bottle of beer, and took a long pull. The crowd cheered. Then I handed it to him and he held it up like he won some award. Placing both palms on the top of the bar, I hoisted myself up (I only slipped a little) and sat on the bar, my legs dangling over the side.

Cam was a little farther down so I crawled, my movements long and drawn out, down the bar toward him. I felt the boy shorts ride up my butt, but I didn’t fix them… I didn’t care.

He stood up straighter, making room as I got closer. Beside him there was a little holder full of plastic test tubes that were half full of electric-blue shots. I had no clue what kind of alcohol was in them. It didn’t matter.

I hoped, I prayed that Cam played into this because he was about to become part of my routine. If he didn’t cooperate, I was pretty sure I would have to hide in the bathroom the rest of the night.

I stood directly over him, giving him a full-on view of my backside, and then leaned down and picked up one of the test tubes. I lifted it high so everyone could see.

Then I slid the tube right down between my breasts.

I heard the whistling, the catcalls, but I blocked them out. I looked at Cam and sank to my knees right there on the bar, sticking my chest near his face.

I curled my hand around the nape of his neck, just below the black fedora perched on his head, and drew him closer. I felt a laugh rumble through him and I had a momentary freak-out thinking he was going to pull away.

But he didn’t.

His lips went searching for the tube. The spotlight was hot as it highlighted us and his lips were cool as they slid over my cleavage and found the tube. He yanked it up with his teeth, then tipped his head back and drained the liquid.

The crowd was in a good frenzy now as I stood and strutted down the bar. I crooked my finger at Cam, hoping he would follow, and thankfully, he did.

I reached for the black silk ribbon lacing up the corset and I pulled, slowly untying the garment. I started low near my belly button and pulled the ribbon until the corset was completely open all the way up to just beneath my breasts.

I glanced at Cam.

I was out of ideas.

But he wasn’t.

He grabbed an empty shot glass off the bar and held it up. The men cheered (I had no idea why) and then he flung it up, flipping it in midair, and caught it. Then he slammed it down on the bar in between my legs and pointed.

I had no idea what that meant.

“Lay down,” he mouthed.

I took my time, making a production out of it as I draped myself across the top of the bar. By now my first song was over and the DJ had started another, but the one he picked went perfectly with the mood so I went with it.

When I was lying on the bar with my back arched in a way I prayed was provocative and not stupid, Cam poured a shot of honey-colored liquor into the glass. Then he parted the opening of my corset, completely exposing my midsection.

I wasn’t prepared for what he did next.

He licked across my stomach, just above my belly button. His tongue was like a fire blazing a scorching trail across my skin. I didn’t have to pretend I liked it.

Because I did.

I liked it so much my back arched even farther off the bar. Then he sprinkled something across the wet path he left on my skin. It was gritty and white. Salt.

Then he held up a wedge of lime and tucked it between my breasts, right where the ribbon was coming loose.

The shot glass was cold when he set it in the center of my stomach. I held my breath, praying I wouldn’t move and cause it to spill.

The crowd chanted, “Do it!” and he grinned, licked the salt off my stomach, snatched the shot glass, and slammed back the tequila. Then he dove into my cleavage after the lime, taking a little longer than I thought he really needed and making my nipples harden in the process, before pulling back with the green rind sticking out of his mouth.

Men were high-fiving each other all over the place.

Idiots.

Cam reached over and discreetly tugged my corset together, and then I stood. My eyes locked on a man standing at the edge of the bar against a wall… completely shrouded in shadow.

He was staring at me.

I could feel it.

A shiver worked its way up my spine.

On impulse, I grabbed the fedora off Cam’s head and spun it onto mine, tipping it over my face and halting in position. The music cut off. The spotlight went out.

Money flooded the top of the bar.

It was over.

Thank Baby Jesus the routine was over.

And I wasn’t naked!

Cam reached for me, lifting me off the bar and sitting me on the side where he was, effectively putting a barrier between me and all the strange, grabby hands. “I so owe you for this,” I told him as he helped me gather the money off the bar.

“Are you kidding me?” he whispered in my ear. “That was my pleasure.”

Ty appeared at the end of the bar to escort me backstage and I was beyond thankful. As we made our way through the crowd, I got an eerie feeling and I looked over my shoulder toward where I saw the man standing in the shadows.

He was gone.

*    *    *

Roxie was already on stage doing her routine when I made my way to my dressing table. A couple of the girls congratulated me on the dance as I walked by, and I smiled and thanked them when all I really wanted was a moment of quiet.

My cell phone was ringing on top of my dressing table when I approached. It was my mother. Again. Concerned that something was wrong, I answered.