Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“After you,” he says, sweeping his arm in an arc toward the door.
The same beat that was playing before the power went out is back on when I step inside.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You wanted to dance tonight. You told me to watch you, so here I am.” He sits on the white couch positioned in front of the stage. “Now dance.”
I think I might be sick.
The way his eyes clock me like a predator stalking its prey has my pulse racing.
“You want me to dance?” I swallow, my mouth incredibly dry. “For you?”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His whiskey-colored eyes meet mine. “I’ve had a shit month, and I never let someone challenge me and not follow through. Now dance.”
I have to do this.
I can’t blow my cover, and I need this man to trust me. On shaky legs, I cross the floor and climb the three steps to the stage. My sweaty palm grips the pole, and I find the beat, swaying my hips. I’d like to think it’s sensual and alluring, but I’m nothing but awkward limbs and jerky movements.
Devereaux’s eyes rake over my body, causing goosebumps to explode over my flesh. Pole dancing looks easy in videos, but I’m here to say it’s not. I lean over, rubbing my ass against the metal, but now my boobs are ready to fall out of this tight-as-hell corset.
I stop the nonsense and face him. “I don’t know how,” I mutter.
He yanks at his tie and releases the top button of his white dress shirt. “It’s simple. Just make me fucking jealous of that pole.”
I turn back to the pole, pretending it’s Devereaux standing before me. My heart thumps with the beat as I slide my hand against the cool metal, like I’m wrapping it around Devereaux’s neck in a slow caress. Insecurity floats away as I move to the rhythm of the music, air-grinding with the pole. Devereaux makes a hissing sound from the couch, and I chance a look at him. His legs are spread wide, and he’s running a hand along the length of his jaw.
“Like this?” I ask, when I try another move I’ve seen in movies that has me lowering my body until I’m nearly sitting on the floor and then popping back up again.
“Yeah, just like that, Swan,” he husks out slowly.
I continue moving, focusing on the pole, pretending it’s him. It’s an intoxicating fantasy, and my nipples pebble against the material of the corset. I run one hand over my breast, needing a little relief.
“Do you like being a Greedy Girl?” he rasps.
I glance over my shoulder. “Is this my audition?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’ve never watched any of the other girls dance like this.”
My insides coil at his words, winding tighter and tighter. I’m wet between my thighs and desperately want to ease the ache.
“Oh,” is my soft reply.
“Now show me you can be a Greedy Girl.” His eyes never leave me as I try my best to be sensual.
“How?” I ask, feeling my body come alive under his fiery stare.
“Keep dancing. You’re doing a stunning job.”
Goosebumps fan across my flesh at his praise, and I keep moving, working my body until I’m in an outright frenzy. I’m so turned on even the slightest breeze in my direction could get me off.
Devereaux watches me with eyes half-lidded, his mouth slightly parted. And then he stands, making his way closer to the stage.
I’m unsure if I should continue or stop, so I slow my movements until I’m barely moving. In one swift motion, his arm is snug around my waist and he snatches me off the stage.
Our bodies press together, and I blink up at him. Time stands still as his hungry eyes feast on me. It’s almost like he’s fighting an inner turmoil deep within.
I don’t dare breathe as the music plays softly. I’m half-expecting him to kiss me.
I know I want him to.
“Get dressed. It’s time to go,” he barks out.
He releases me, and I rush out the door, nearly running to my locker in the employee area to grab my bag and throw on the dress I wore to work.
I’m not expecting Devereaux to be waiting for me when I emerge from the back. “I thought you left.”
He gives me a funny look. “I’m going to walk you to your car. Make sure you make it safely.”
I remind myself that just because he’s concerned about my safety doesn’t mean he’s not a murderer. “Oh, ok.”
He walks to the front entrance and holds the door open for me. When we step outside, butterflies swarm my stomach from being in his presence. Not because he might be a murderer, but because of the intimacy of him watching me dance.
“I want you to know something…” His voice trails off, like he’s searching for the right words. “I’ve never done that with anyone who’s worked here.” He laughs lightly. “I’ve never done that period. I don’t want you to think I’m that type of boss.”