Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
During my twelve minutes of stage time, I pull out all of my best tricks and give it my all knowing the pressure is on. I need to catch these guys interest and let the other dancers know that I’m not going anywhere. There are a few girls working the crowd and flirting with the men, but nothing really seedy going on yet, as far as I can tell. These guys all look like typical club patrons, but I know there are darker things lurking beneath the façade. I’ll have to get closer to them to find out exactly what those things are.
Throughout my performance, nobody hassles me about taking off my outfit. I guess Sasha’s prediction was correct. Not that I want other dudes grabbing all over my body, but it’s going to make narrowing down my suspect pool that much harder. Thank you very much Lachlan Crow. On the upside, I’ve still managed to rake in the tips by the time I finish. The emcee helps me collect them before I head backstage.
I don’t even make it fully behind the curtain before a strong pair of arms grab me and pin me up against the wall. Even in the dark, I can feel his penetrating eyes on me.
“Butterfly,” he growls into my ear.
He sounds kind of pissed, but I’m not entirely sure. Because he’s doing that thing again. Getting really close… all up in my bubble, and I don’t know how to handle it.
“I’m all sweaty,” I squeak.
He burrows his face in my hair, inhaling deeply… and shocking the hell out of me. “Do ye fancy being up on stage?”
His tone is frustrated. By the way he’s caging me in with his body and the tension radiating off of his own, I know this is a trick question. I’m wading in dangerous waters here, because it seems I’ve managed to provoke the beast somehow.
“I like making money,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster.
“Does it make ye wet?” he accuses. “Dancing for the lads out there?”
“What?”
I am all sorts of confused. He’s told me he doesn’t want me here. He’s told me he doesn’t trust me. But right here and now, his body tells me something else. At this point I have no idea if he’s going to maul me or make love to me.
His hands are sliding all over my body, but I doubt he even realizes he’s doing it. His grip is rough, possessive, and his breath hot on my neck. I’m trying to think of a response, but when he rubs his palm between my legs, all thought flees. One little slip of fabric, and he could see for himself. The friction of his fingers against the fabric down there is doing crazy things to me.
“Lachlan, I…”
“Jaysus Christ.” He takes a step back and shakes his head. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What do you mean?” I demand. “I did a good job out there. Did you see all my tips?”
“I know ye did a good job.” He paces the floor and glares at me. “Too good a job, sweetheart. I don’t like it. What the fuck?”
It’s clear he’s questioning his logic just as much as I am. It looks like he can’t decide whether to strangle me or take me right here and now. Nobody has ever looked at me the way he’s looking at me at this moment. Like I’m his possession. Like if anyone else were to touch me, he’d break both their legs and an arm for good measure. It shouldn’t make me feel anything, but it does. And the worst part is, this is the last thing I need. I need to be working on the Russians to get my information, at least for a little while.
“You’ve already agreed to let me dance,” I say half-heartedly. “And I’m not going to sacrifice a good source of income just because you want to have a roll in the hay with me.”
His eyes fly to mine, and he laughs, one of those dark and deadly laughs of his. It makes my stomach clench.
“Ye’re pretty cocksure, aren’t you sweetheart?”
I just shrug. We both know he wants me, what’s the point in denying it? I’m guessing a man like Lachlan appreciates my honesty. Appreciates that I’m not giggling and laughing at his every word like some of the other women. Besides, I obviously can’t get as much past him as I was hoping, so bluntness can only help the situation.
He stalks into my space again. So close I have to crane my neck just to look up at him and my back is pressed flat against the wall.
“Ye’re right,” he says in a tight voice. “I’ve no trust for you, but I want ye just the same, Mack.”
I don’t speak, but I don’t need to. His eyes roam over my face, taking in every last detail like he’s proving something to himself. My pupils are probably dilated, sure. A biological reaction. Nothing more. And my chest is rising a little faster than normal. I just got done dancing, of course. The pulse that’s jumping in my throat? He especially likes that, I can see it in his eyes. But that’s nothing. I’m tired, hot, and I just need to get the hell out of here. Away from his overbearing presence and this stifling atmosphere.
“I don’t want ye to dance anymore,” he says. “I’ll find something else for you to do.”
“Like hell you will,” I argue. “I don’t want to do anything else. I just want to dance.”
Darkness seeps into his eyes like a deadly fog, obliterating any traces of gray. He isn’t used to women talking back to him, probably. Or anybody for that matter. I don’t care. He needs to learn that I’m not going to bow to his whims, regardless of his reputation and how threatening he can be. That’s probably what happened to Talia. She was naturally meek, submissive, a people pleaser. Someone with bad intentions could see that and easily take advantage of her.