Page 11 of Allured (Love and Burlesque #1)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EZEKIEL

More than a handful.

I f it wasn’t for the stinging pain lingering in my throat from inhaling my lemonade, I would have believed the last five minutes were a figment of my imagination. My brain’s final flashing thoughts as the lack of oxygen terminates all bodily functions and sends me to an early grave.

Twice. Twice I’ve choked in the vicinity of Alek.

Choking was my reaction to seeing him on stage in that outfit. What a lovely last memory to have. He looks resplendent. Alek is a god upon his dais, his worshippers throwing bras onto the stage in offering.

The party of women I’m with have moved on from my spluttering incident and are now captivated by all the performers on the stage. While I’m fully charmed by one dancer. My eyes couldn’t wander away from him even if there was a miracle being performed on stage.

Alek.

Along with the pain in my throat, I feel a pull in my chest. Either the extent of my injuries were more than I first realized, or I am filled with so much emotion at seeing the man that it threatens to burst from my chest.

At this instance, I know I am a fool for thinking I could resist all that is Alek. No matter how hard I tried to scrub away the aching want that followed me all week, there is no escaping something of this magnitude. I have been utterly at the mercy of the man I met just a week ago.

But, I’m also confused. Why is the chef from my Aunt Harriett’s gala dancing at a burlesque club? Did I miss the announcement stating that the cooks and bartenders traded places with the dancers for the night? What is happening?

“Hey, are you okay?” Anna asks as she moves closer.

The bewilderment must be painted on my face. She takes notice of my line of vision and smirks as her eyes bounce from me to Alek.

A hand decorated in pretty white nails lands on my shoulder before I feel the breath of her words near my ear. “That’s Alek.”

Judging by said breath, my sister—in—law is well on her way to a drunken night.

“He’s the lead dancer,” Anna continues, her front pressed against my back. “Don’t blame ya for looking.” Her laugh is soft as she pats my shoulder, kisses my cheek, and sits back into her seat to join her cheering friends.

The music begins to build up and the performers scatter along the stage. Alek is dancing closer. And closer. And closer. And now he’s…falling? I have to stop myself from the instinctive jolt that drives my body forward.

It took a second but I realized that his ‘fall’ is part of his dance and he’s not in danger. He’s close enough that if I leaned over in my seat and stretched, I could reach him. The thought of doing so is too tempting for my liking.

His proximity also means I can no longer hide behind the lights. My breath hitches when he suddenly lifts his face and connects his eyes with mine.

Instantly, I’m fighting both the urge to run away and the urge to grab him by the collar of his cut—off shirt and pull him down into my lap.

“Holy shit, it’s him,” Alek breathes. It would seem I’m not the only one in panic.

Alek freezes for a second after the words slip. Recovering quickly, he continues his dance move and catches up to the rest of the dancers, but his shining hazel eyes never leave mine.

I would be a little tiffed at how quickly he recovered, but I remember that he is the one on stage performing and must keep his composure. No, I can tell by the slight tension lining his jaw that he is as affected as I am by this surprise reunion.

Alek continues dancing and I take the moment to admire his body. The muscles on the man’s abdomen are defined and tantalizing as his hips thrust once, twice, thrice down into the stage, the rest of his torso rolls to meet the movement. A tendril of lust surges up my spine at the sight of him moving in such a decadent way.

While I’m certain I’ve seen male figures similar to his before, my own body has never quite reacted in such a way. I’m shifting in my seat, my pants feeling much too tight as my desire makes itself evident.

Swiftly, Alek jumps to his feet, the formation of the dancers changing once again as he and the others jump off the stage and into open areas near the sides. From my periphery, I see the other dancers begin to walk around the crowd.

Even when I’m looking around, my concentration remains on Alek. And dear lord, he’s now only a few yards away and marching directly toward our booth. The screaming from my companions would be deafening if my senses weren’t already drowning out everything but him.

He stops directly in front of me.

A pink tongue traces across his bottom lip as he does nothing to hide his appreciative glance from my face down to my body. He seems to pause at the ribbon on my chest, letting out a husky chuckle at my ridiculous moniker for the night. I find that I cannot help but laugh with him. I would wear this idiotic sash any day of the week if it earned me such a beautiful sound from those lips.

Alek steps even closer, his tanned hand reaching for my sash slowly and teasingly. Before I can say anything or react to his immediacy, I find myself hauled forward as he wraps his hands beneath my thighs, pulling me suddenly and effectively.

The shift makes it so that I’m at the edge of my seat, my hands at my sides, and my lap free for the taking.

And he takes .

Alek sits himself on my lap like he has every right to. The women around me are laughing and yelling out encouragement. The smile on my face refuses to leave my lips and my eyes refuse to leave him as Alek grins back and keeps fiddling with my sash.

“Double D’s huh? I took you for more of an ass man.” He’s forced to lean closer so I can hear him properly. We’re as close as we were at our encounter last weekend. Even when he’s taunting me about my obvious appraisal of him during our first meeting, it puzzles me just how much I missed being in his presence.

Can a forty—two—year—old man blush? I think I’m proving so and Alek, the brat, is enjoying every minute of my torture.

His hands leave the sash to brush against the outside of my arms, still covered in the suit jacket I wore to work today. The tweed fabric does nothing to shield the heat of his touch. He takes the opportunity to lean down, his face now parallel to mine as he whispers in my ear.

“You mind getting a little hands on?” he questions.

The words feel more intimate than his previous teasing question that was meant to get a reaction from the table. He’s genuinely asking and checking to see if I would approve.

“Not at all,” I respond in a heated whisper. We’re so close that the slight nod of my head brushes my dark hair against his light brown waves. I shiver at the contact.

While I am aware it is not the time to apologize, I want to turn and tell him I’m sorry for not contacting him. I want to tell him that I was scared of the strong pull I feel towards him. I want to tell him that I couldn’t be what he needed or deserved but his voice silences my thoughts.

“Good boy,” he purrs.

Gripping my hands, Alek tugs them to his torso and plants them on his abdominal muscles. I gasp, my eyes magnetically pulled to where our skin meets. Heat sears my shaking fingertips. His large hands cover mine and sandwich them to his unyielding flesh before he begins to slowly drag them under his cropped shirt.

“Now, these aren’t double d’s but… I think they’ll do,” he says loudly, jeering and winking over at my friends behind me. The group of women lose their minds and I hear a couple of drinks fall over on the table as they react to Alek’s showmanship.

I have to fight the groan that threatens to escape my lips. The feeling of his taut skin and firm pectorals beneath my fingertips is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The menace encourages me to squeeze his chest by tightening his hands on mine.

I’m not used to the pure masculinity that drives my desire at the moment. I cannot deny how attracted I am to this man, as new as the feeling may be.

What is he doing to me?

I could get lost in my stupefaction, denial and arousal mixing to create the perfect storm in my mind, but I’m too aware of my surroundings. Having a crisis in the middle of a burlesque show would be unspeakably rude.

“Hey—”

I’ve been staring at the bulge of our hands beneath his white shirt, lost in thought while this spectacle of a man sits in my lap. I hope I didn’t offend him by retreating into my own contemplation.

Alek is staring at me like he can read the thoughts running through my mind, the ones that I am unable to understand, myself. His face is warm and kind and I am overcome by it. There’s promise in it and it’s more than I deserve after failing to communicate with him for a whole week.

Gently removing our hands from his chest, Alek keeps ahold of mine as he places a tender kiss on my knuckles. The touch of his lips calms me as much as it pains me. As quiet and quick as the gesture was, it speaks volumes. His stare and the serene brush of his lips hold forgiveness, possession, and a pledge.

The movement was obscured by how close our bodies are to each other. I know the reassuring action was only for me.

Too soon, he’s lifting himself off my lap and my heart yearns to follow and stay in his presence for just a second longer. It doesn’t seem right to leave things as they were and I crave his company more than anything.

My hands lay numbly in my lap as I keep staring up at him, my revelation in a pair of pink cowboy boots.

His parting smile is more blinding than the beaming lights from the stage could ever be, and his parting words fuel the desire coursing within me.

“I’ll be seeing you later, angel.”