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“Now that we’re back on topic, I’d like to see you dance,” Andrew said.
“You’ve seen me dance.” The notion twisted Susan’s gut in knots. What if he thought less of her, once he had a chance to see her for more than a few seconds? What if she screwed up? What if Dad was right, and this was a waste of time? Familiar doubts pressed in and threatened to suffocate her, but she clawed her way past them. She’d asked for his help with this; she wasn’t going to tell him no. “But if you meet me back at R&T early tomorrow, I’m happy to do an on-demand performance.”
“You misunderstand. I want to see it now.”
“Here?” Her question came out as a squeak. People passed by in groups of two or five or more, on their way to dinner or the movies. This time of year, with so many holiday shoppers lingering despite the closed stores, it was far from being a private show.
Andrew moved close enough that heat flowed between them, but he never made contact. “I dated a guy once. Super uptight. Formal. Complete control freak.” His voice rolled over her with a current of electricity. “But—Jesus—he could fuck.”
“Like on camera?” Stupid question. That was what most of his stories were about.
“Like on me. He wasn’t an actor. The man knew how to get me off.”
Andrew never flinched, and neither would she. The problem was she was now fantasizing about him with another man, and that was distracting. Picturing Andrew stripped down, some well-built guy kissing him, stroking him— “Is this another story that ends with you getting a blow job on a bench?” She was grateful she kept her question steady and neutral.
“No. Do you want to hear it or not?”
“Yes.”
“I took him out to dinner one night. I was enjoying the new feeling of having a free cash flow. It was a super classy place—or I thought so at the time. French version of Olive Garden, but with American food.”
She’d been to France and was pretty sure such a thing didn’t exist, but she didn’t dare interrupt and stop the tale.
“Or—you know—it was a little café on the corner somewhere, but they had tablecloths and candlelight, so it felt classy. We placed our orders, and chatted while we waited. He had a little wine. Wasn’t sitting quite as straight as normal. I dropped my hand to his leg and glided it up to his zipper. He pushed me away, but the right coaxing convinced him no one could see.”
She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “And?”
He flicked his gaze across her face and gave a tiny shake of his head. “When I worked his cock free from his jeans, it was so hard I could cut glass with it and his spine went just as rigid. But the company was good, and his dick was hot against my palm, so I took my time stroking him.”
Details splashed with images through her thoughts, making her pulse race. Desire thrummed under her skin and throbbed between her legs. This was better than Tumblr.
“As the anticipation built, he relaxed.” If Andrew had any idea the effect he was having on her, it didn’t show. “When he tilted his head back, eyes half closed, I knew he was lost in the moment. He groaned when he came. Made a mess of my hand. Drew stares and more than a few whispers from the people around us. I guarantee, not all of them were as disgusted as they were acting.”
She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed for the unnamed boyfriend, or jealous. Temptation urged her to excuse herself for a few minutes, find the nearest bathroom, and slip her fingers between her legs. “What happened next?”
“Management asked us to leave, because we were disrupting the other diners.”
“Oh my heck, why would you tell me that?” There was no way she was dancing here now.
He raised an eyebrow. “It made you hot and bothered, and I like the memory.”
“I thought you were trying to convince me to do a command performance.”
“I am.” He leaned his head in, and his hot breath sent tantalizing shivers down her spine. “What’s holding you back?”
“What if it pisses someone off?”
He looked her in the eye, but his nearness jumbled her thoughts. “That’s a worst-case scenario. The story is important because, aside from being sent to jail or getting beaten up for being queer—neither of which is an option here—there wasn’t a lot more that could happen. It didn’t kill us, and it left us both with a fantastic memory.”
“But it’s so embarrassing.” The argument sounded weak, and she was the one saying it.
He slid behind her and rested his hands on her hips. When he pressed against her back, his hard length told her she wasn’t the only one turned on. “You want to be a performer.” He dragged his nose along the back of her neck as he spoke. “Perform.”
She swallowed a whimper. “There’s no music.” She hovered on the knife’s edge, between paralyzing fear and intense desire. If he teased his fingers under the waistband of her jeans, she’d have a difficult time saying no. But she couldn’t imagine dancing here, with so many people around.
He removed one of his hands from its resting spot, and seconds later, a heavy dance beat spilled from behind her. She assumed it came from his phone. People turned to look, muttering to each other.
Humiliation flooded her. “Please stop.”
“I told you how this works.” His lips moved against her skin. “You do things by my rules, or we call it quits. If you stop now, we’re done. I’ll take you home, and we won’t speak of this again.” He swayed her hips to the beat, moving with her.
It felt forced. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than respond mechanically. Too many thoughts pressed in on her at once, fuzzing the world around her, until all she saw were the stares and all she felt was him.
“Stop caring what they think. What you want is all that matters.” His voice was low and hypnotic.
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Focus on my voice and the music. Ignore the people. Block out the rest of the world.”
Temptation mingled with desire and embarrassment, racing through her. Clouding her mind. Humming in her head and over her body.
“I can’t.” She pulled out of his grasp but couldn’t turn to look at him.
The music vanished. He didn’t respond. Her heart hammered in her ears, as seconds ticked away. Why wasn’t he saying anything? She whirled to see him walking toward the parking lot.
She sprinted to catch up and tugged the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry.”
“If you’re not serious, you’re wasting your time and mine.”
“I am serious. I told you I want this. I’ll do it. Stop, please.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Her throat was raw with frustration.
He didn’t look at her. “I can prompt you. Coerce you. Encourage you and go so far as to seduce you. But at the end of the day, if you do this for anyone’s approval except your own, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”
“I want to try. Please? I’m doing it for me. I promise.” She pulled him to a stop. “Damn it. Look at me.”
He spun and grabbed her wrist, locking his gaze on hers. “If you lie about this, to me or yourself, it doesn’t work.” The smooth tone was gone from his voice.
The power in his grip terrified and excited her. She refused to look away. “I’m not lying.” She was, though. The idea of doing this still terrified her. Did it show?
Expression going flat, he let go and turned away. “I don’t know how many ways I can say this. You didn’t follow my rules. We’re done. We have to work in the morning, it’s more than a half-hour drive up the canyon, and you have to tell your BFF nothing horrible happened to you. We should go.”
To keep reading, Pre-order The Virgin and The Kingpin as part of the Holidays Ever After box set