Page 45

Her eyes widened again, the tops of her cheeks flushed, and her lips parted. Teasing her was just too much fun.

Alina shook her head violently, her brown curls bouncing around her face, the sweet scent of her shampoo filling the room. "No, I'm not one of the?—"

As she argued, I picked up the remote for the sound system off to the side and made my selection. The first twangs of a familiar song drifted from the speakers behind her.

Bruce Springsteen'sI'm On Fire.

I gave her a cocky smirk.

She was stuck.

There was no escaping this.

The sooner she realized it, the easier her life was going to be.

I had caught her.

She was mine. That meant she was going to do as I demanded.

"Dance."

Alina hesitated for a moment. Then her eyes flicked down to the gun that was resting on my thigh, my hand still gripped around the base, my finger laying along the slide.

Fear flickered across her features. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she lifted her chin and swallowed before stepping onto the platform.

The only sound in the room was the music coming from the speakers, and the low thump from the music outside the curtain. Otherwise it was quiet.

I didn't want it too loud. I wanted to see if I could hear her heart race from across the tiny room.

The bass line thumped softly, hypnotic and compelling as she tentatively lifted her arms, unsure of the movements or what to do. Then her hips swayed. It was barely noticeable at first, my jacket hiding most of her movements, but she followed the rhythm of the music.

As the music pulsed through the room, something changed. Her eyes closed briefly, surrendering to the rhythm despite herself. My gaze locked on the gentle sway of her hips, the way her throat worked as she swallowed nervously. Despite her fear—or perhaps because of it—my cock strained against my pants, demanding attention I refused to give it. Not yet.

Watching her dance was exquisite torture. Each small movement revealed another glimpse of the curves I intended to claim. The slight arch of her back, the way she bit her lower lip in concentration—all of it stirred something primal in me. The way she moved wasn't practiced like the whores in this place. It was innocent, vulnerable...and infinitely more arousing.

Her moves were clumsy, unpracticed. I got the distinct impression that she was just copying moves she had seen the other girls do.

There was something about that fact that pleased me. I didn't want to know that other men had seen her dance for them. I should be the only one ever seeing her like this.

My body ached with the need to touch her, to pull her down onto my lap and hold that heat against me. But I restrained myself. This game was too delicious to rush.

I tilted the gun slightly, making sure she knew it was still in play.

"The jacket," I demanded, my voice rougher than I intended.

Her fingers clenched the fine Italian fabric and her breath came out shallow. Slowly, achingly slowly, she slipped the jacket from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

I could see more of her body move now, the thigh highs and tight shorts leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. My mouth went dry at the sight of her curves, fully revealed in the dim light. My gaze trailed hungrily over her exposed skin, lingering on the swell of her breasts against the cheap corset. My hand tightened on the gun, knuckles white with the effort of restraining myself.

It still wasn't enough.

"More," I demanded, the word coming out like a growl.

A stifled sob escaped as she reached behind her back, fumbling with the corset strings. Then she turned her back to me and I realized they weren't the corset strings at all. She’d tied the cheap satin together with what looked like shoelaces.

What the hell kind of establishment was this?

As she struggled with the makeshift ties, my eyes traced the delicate curve of her spine, the soft dimples at the small of her back. Heat pooled in my groin, my cock throbbing painfully as I imagined pressing my lips to eachvertebra, working my way down her body until she trembled beneath me.