Christ almighty.
What if men aren’t her jam? I can see myself eliminating a boyfriend, even a husband if necessary, but if she’s just not wired for my XY chromosomes, what the fuck am I going to do about that?
“Fine. So, how is this all going to work?”
“Work?” I answer, still half-crazed with the thoughts that she could have someone else in her life, male or female.
She’s fidgeting, looking uncomfortable, and all I can think of is gathering her hair in my hands and kissing her luscious pink lips.
“The money. How do I bid and whatever. Like, cash or what?”
“I’ll give you cash and a card tomorrow.” I reach over and take her pen and little pad of paper where she’s scribbled my measurements and write down my cell number. “Message me when you arrive. I’ll come out and meet you.”
I hand it back to her and let my fingers brush hers. As I do, that deep percussion booms again in my chest at the contact. My heart pounds and the Christmas carols that have been playing inside my head since she walked into the room fade behind the rushing of my blood in my ears.
“Well, I should get back—” She tips her head toward the back room, but I can’t live another second not knowing.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I blurt out as her deep brown eyes snap wide, then I add. “Or a girlfriend? Or…fuck it, anyone?”
A tight smile curls her lips and there’s a seductive gleam in her eye. “And what if there is? This is just a business arrangement, right?”
Fuck no, it’s not.
The thought of another man with his hands on her has a violent surge of blood rushing through my veins.
I can’t help it. I’m overwhelmed with the possessive sense this girl is mine. All mine. And I’m losing control of myself in a way I’ve never experienced before.
“Answer my questions first. Don’t answer a question with a question. It’s naughty. Are you naughty?”
“Maybe.” She glides her tongue over her bottom lip on that pout that makes me want to bend her over and fuck her right here. “But, no. I’m quite unencumbered by any romantic sort of relationship.”
“Good,” I grit out before I can stop myself.
She tips her head back, looking at the ceiling for a moment, before meeting my eyes. “It’s nice to know there’s a second Christmas. Since I didn’t really have a first.” She finishes the last words more wistful, almost like she’s saying them to herself.
“Your family does not celebrate?”
Her lips tug down and I regret asking because her smile is gone. “Not so much. We don’t really even do anything anymore. It’s just me and my dad and…well…” She blows out a long breath like she’s trying to reset the mood. “I really do love Christmas. I just don’t get to love it as much as I’d like.”
“We will work on that.”
“Maybe.” She crinkles her nose, turns and sashays into the back room, twitching her ass as she goes.
I’m left standing there with my heart pounding and my cock nearly breaking in half, hard as fucking steel uncomfortably locked in place down my pant leg.
Get your shit together, man.
I think this is it. That feeling I’ve been waiting for my entire life.
Now, I have to figure out what the fuck to do about it.
Chapter 4
Bria
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I stare into the mirror at Alice, who is standing behind me with a curling iron, twirling my hair on the hot barrel.
“I can’t either.” She smiles. “But I’m fucking stoked that you are. Ten grand? Damn, girl. It’s about time you did something daring. I can’t seem to talk you into stripping…”
“Yeah, you remember when you got me to put on your acrylic stilts? How did that go?”
She giggles and starts on another piece of my hair. “We were close to an ER visit.”
A flash of heat bursts on my cheeks remembering how Martel caught me as I tripped and nearly fell face first into the mannequin. His hand brushed my chest and it felt like all the air in the room disappeared.
“Right,” I reply as Alice finishes up the last few curls on the front of my hair then puts down the curling iron and starts teasing the roots. “There isn’t enough insurance in the world that would let a strip club give me the stage.”
Alice and I have been friends since the second grade. We bonded over those horrible pink snack cakes called Snoballs and protecting each other from Audrina Templeton, who for some reason made us the center of her destructive focus from the time we entered Mrs. Rubinstein’s class that September.
We were both from what everyone in this town calls ‘The Pines’, which is Pines Avenue and the surrounding area known for trailer parks and low rent duplexes, along with subsidized apartment buildings.