Page 4 of Never Let Go (Forbidden #1)

Chapter Four

CALEB

T his bachelor party came around too quickly.

I mean, I’m happy for the guy but a strip club?

Really? Could Theo have been any more cliché with it?

I internally roll my eyes at the thought and check the guys out.

We’re all here; me, James, Noah, Theo, Dan, and a few of Dan’s friends who I’ve met on occasion.

I have to give it to the guys, they’ve scrubbed up well, including Noah who doesn’t usually care much for how he’s looking.

“Let’s get this party started, motherfuckers,” Theo hollers as he slaps Dan’s back, who not only visibly winces from the slap, but his face becomes paler knowing he’s in for a shit storm when he gets home to Christie. Poor fucker.

For a strip club it’s not that bad, it’s my first time here, not usually making a habit of frequenting places like this. I’m the type of guy who’s happy to either use my hand or find a willing woman in a bar for the night when I need to .

The lights are low and the music’s loud as we stroll in, getting placed at a table in front of the stage.

A couple of scantily dressed waitresses stand at the bar, waiting for us to get settled.

The guys are eating it up. The only ones who don’t appear to be enjoying it are me and Noah, and by the looks of it he’s more miserable to be here than I am.

“You good, man?” I shout over the music. Noah just nods.

I’m not in the mood to get shit-faced tonight so I’ve paced myself, only having had two beers whereas I lost count after the tenth shot the guys did. I smile to myself knowing the state they’re gonna be in tomorrow and having little to no sympathy for them.

We’ve sat through two girls' routines in the time we’ve been here—one who went by the name of “Esme” and another called “Destiny.” Who knows if they’re even their real names or not.

It's mayhem in here. Dan started begging to go home about an hour ago and I can’t help but laugh at the way his face pales every time his phone goes off. Theo keeps shouting “shots” every five minutes and James is putting the moves on a waitress.

We’re like any other typical thirty-six-year-old men—we game, we drink, we mess around.

Which is why people find it difficult to comprehend when they discover we’re professors, high school teachers, billionaires and lawyers.

That we don’t sit at home smoking pipes and drinking Cognac.

Honestly it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Take me for instance. I’m a nerd, always have been, and I’m proud of that fact.

One of my other loves apart from gaming is music, metal to be precise, preferring the nights where I’m at a gig instead of a strip club.

So as you can imagine, my ears feel like their bleeding after being subjected to the harsh tones of drum and bass all evening.

Hearing the starting track for The Devil You Know by Stone Broken , I sit up, taking notice that finally, finally a decent song is being played.

Turning around in my chair, I peer over at the stage.

A light shines on a pole in the middle and I’m not gonna lie, I’m intrigued.

A petite, curvy blonde struts out and grabs the pole just as the heavy notes start to kick in.

She’s wearing more than what the previous acts were, but the added clothing just makes her more alluring.

Her black corset cinches in at the waist, showing off her curves, and images of my hands on her waist as I grab her from behind invade my mind.

She’s wearing heels, but not ridiculously high ones, ones that look like they give her a bit more height, without the potential to break her neck.

She’s wearing black boy shorts to finish the outfit, and that ass in those shorts has my dick standing to attention for the first time tonight.

I watch as she spins delicately, one leg wrapping around the pole and the other flicking out behind her. She swings her back leg round in a graceful arc, bringing it forward onto the pole before climbing up to the top and rolling herself into a ball before dropping down at an alarming rate.

I jump up from my chair, ready to shout for help when she stops just before she hits the deck. My heart’s thumping, matching the tempo of the music blaring from the speakers. I’m completely mesmerized by this woman. Utterly amazed at her talent.

Sitting back down, hoping no one saw me jump up, she slides down to the floor, coming to land flat on her stomach as she pushes her front half up and kicks her leg up in the air, her ass sticking out, causing her to come into a seated position.

She looks up, my eyes locking with hers and the breath leaves me as we share a moment just between the two of us.

She’s fucking stunning.

The bright green of her eyes makes me want to drown in them, her face slightly hidden by her hair but from what I can see she looks like she has the face of an angel— The fuck? When did I become such a sap ? I mentally facepalm myself, but I’m still unable to look away.

She continues on until the end of the song, moving her body in various ways that isn’t helping my dick any.

Which, might I add, is currently pushing against the confines of my black jeans and urging me to take a closer look.

The goddess on stage doesn’t look back at me and for reasons unbeknownst to me, it starts to piss me off—I want her eyes on me .

Surely, that moment wasn’t just one sided, right?

She begins walking off the stage and I realize—to my utter dismay—that her act is over.

I hear a commotion behind me, having been completely oblivious to the guys and what they’ve been up too since seeing her—Dan looks like he’s about to puke, James is chasing after yet another waitress, Noah is glued to his phone and Theo is taking it all in with a huge shit-eating grin that says, “my job here is done.”

I drain the rest of my beer and go in search of the mystery woman.