“Another show will begin in thirty minutes. Please enjoy.”
Scantily clad women strutted throughout the crowded room, elaborate masks hiding their faces, though Nate could tell every single one of them was beautiful. Their bodies were utter perfection. Lush breasts, taut stomachs, sleek curves.
Though not a one of them aroused him like Janelle.
“Want a lap dance?” Janelle’s eyes twinkled from behind the mask, her lips curved in a teasing smile.
Nate was glad to see her getting back into the groove, though he wasn’t sure he was up for her suggestion.
Correction. He knew he wasn’t.
“Hell, no. You know what I want. Let’s get out of here.” He didn’t want to play any more games, didn’t want another woman near him. Not when he had the chance to be alone with this woman.
One of the dancers stopped in front of their table, her hands resting on slim hips. “Good evening.”
“Hello.” Janelle leaned forward eagerly, her hand immediately going to the inside of his thigh again. She clutched him tight. “Are you a dancer?”
“I’m whatever you wish me to be.” The woman smiled, her crimson lips full and shiny.
“Janelle.” He said her name in warning. He had no idea what she was thinking, what she was planning, but figured he wouldn’t like it. The gleam in her eyes was too mischievous.
“Let me do this. You’ll like it, trust me.” She tilted her head toward the woman with a serene smile on her beautiful face. “We’d like to engage in your services.”
“Would you care for the lap dance, or would he?”
That idea made him sit up straight. No way did he want to watch some voluptuous dancer twist and turn around the woman he wanted so desperately, his entire body ached for her.
Did he?
No. Of course not.
“He wants it.” Janelle turned to him, licking her upper lip. “Right?”
“Not really,” he muttered.
“One hundred for ten minutes,” the woman said. “That is, if he’s agreeable. I don’t dance for someone who doesn’t want me to.”
“Holy shit.” No wonder these girls danced for a living. The money they made was just short of ridiculous.
“Give her the money, sweetheart.” Janelle’s smile was angel sweet, though her eyes flashed with vixen heat.
This woman was trouble. And the problem was, he liked it.
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded one hundred dollar bill and handed it to the dancer, who tucked it into the bodice of her pale pink corset. A giant man suddenly appeared, yanking the table away from where it
sat in front of them, as if it weighed nothing with quick, efficient movements. The woman sidled closer to Nate.
His legs spread automatically at her closeness and the woman stepped in between them, her musky perfumed fragrance tickling his nostrils. She looked good, she smelled good, and there was enough gleaming flesh exposed to tempt a saint.
Yet he wasn’t tempted in the least.
A low murmur of music suddenly sounded from the walls of the booth, startling both Janelle and Nate. The pure efficiency of the place was enough to impress him. He’d never seen such a classy yet erotic establishment.
The dancer never missed a beat, merely moved closer to him at the first heavy note of the music, her breasts swaying directly in his line of vision.
“No touching allowed. The second you touch me, I quit.”
The dancer’s words were vaguely familiar, reminding him of Janelle’s dance at the hotel suite. Glancing at Janelle, he caught her watching them with rapt attention. “That won’t be a problem.”