Page 34 of A Wreck, You Make Me

Except when satisfaction passes through his features again, it makes me feel good. It feels even better when he says, “Good girl.”

I have to squeeze my thighs again and with a heart that’s beating on my tongue, I say, “Not here. In the back room.”

He watches me a moment, his eyes dark and glittering, his features sharp and arrogant. Then, he reaches for the card, puts it in his pocket and says, “Lead the way.”

We take the same path as before, through the crowded floor and busy tables, and by the time we reach our destination, I’m a mess of broken breaths and sweaty skin. Like the other night, he reaches the knob before me and pushes the door open. I enter the room, taking my place at the pole, and like before, I don’t turn around until I know he’s taken a seat at the booth.

When I face him, I find that he’s already on the edge of his seat. Like he knows what’s about to come. Heknowsand he can’t wait. His body is thrumming with intensity, with impatience. A dark energy that makes me even shakier. It makes me hot and bothered, my thighs clenching, my belly fluttering.

With shaking hands, I reach up to get rid of my halo but when I go to take off my heels, he goes, “Leave them on.”

“I—”

He jerks his chin up at me. “I don’t like the idea of you being a muse. Definitely not a bard’s or anyone else’s. But I like those heels.”

I fidget where I stand. “But the heels?—”

“And you like them too, don’t you?” he rasps.

My toes curl in them. “How did you?—”

“You wear them a lot,” he says, his eyes penetrating. “You wore them last night when you ran from me.” I open my mouth to say something, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “You wore them the night you ran from me six months ago too.”

My eyes widen. “At The… Horny Bard?”

“Yeah.”

He remembers what shoes I wore on a night six months ago? That’s… I don’t know what that is except I have to fist my skirtand press my spine against the pole to keep standing. Then, swallowing, I blurt, “I love dancing.” His eyes flare slightly as if with interest. “Always have, and I can dance in heels. I-I can run in heels too. But I… I dance better with them off.”

Especially when I’m so nervous, I add silently.

And as if he heard me, he shakes his head slowly. “Not really my problem, is it?”

No, it’s not, and I don’t know why I thought he’d care. So steeling my spine, I say, “Fine. Whatever. If my moves suck, it’s on you. Now?—”

“This is a lap dance, isn’t it,” he cuts me off.

I frown, suspicion laced in my tone. “Yes.”

“In a strip club.”

“Yeah,” I state, but my unsure tone makes it sound like a question.

“So I think,” he goes, looking even more intense if possible, “we should do things the right way.”

“The right way?”

His eyes flick over me, slow and deliberate. “Speaking of, aren’t you a little overdressed?”

I think all I do is stare at him for several seconds and rewind his words in my head, trying to make sense of them. Because I do not think I’m overdressed for anything. In fact, I’munderdressed. On purpose, no less. To get more tips, more than I usually make. Because my landlord texted me about the rent.Again. I was a few hundred dollars short last month and I told him I’d pay him the difference in a few days. But it’s been more than a few days, and I haven’t been able to because I had to get Snow her new textbook. And God, school textbooks are freaking expensive. Imagine how expensive they’d be when she goes to college.

So while I convince Snow to look at colleges and search for loan programsandtry to pay my rent, I really need to let goof my hang-ups and dress as scantily as possible so I can make bigger tips. Which is why tonight I have on a shorty-short, pleated skirt that comes dangerously close to revealing my ass cheeks, and a white crop top with the thinnest spaghetti straps you could find that leaves my belly bare. Plus knee high socks with lace at the top to complete the look of a slutty schoolgirl you’d want to spank. Or in my case, give big tips to.

So again, no, I’m not overdressed. He’s just a big fucking asshole. It’s bad enough I’m forced to give him a lap dance, now he wants me to do it naked. Mystepbrotherwants me to dancenakedfor him. What the…

“Today, Strawberry,” he prods, breaking into my thoughts.

My fists are clenched at my sides, and somehow, I manage to not sound completely unhinged when I say, “Aren’t you forgetting something,Toxic?”