The dancer smiled, her hips slowly starting to sway. “Hmm, you’re one of those types, huh?”
“What do you mean?” Since when did an exotic dancer become so talkative? Usually they gyrated on your knee and then left you in the lurch with a raging hard on and nothing to show for it.
Not that he had any personal experience, beyond the attempted dance by Janelle. And what a memorable dance that had been. He still dreamed about it.
“A one-woman kind of man. You only have eyes for your lady. She’s a lucky gal.” Her movements more pronounced, the dancer’s hands smoothed over her hips sensuously. “Your dance begins now. Enjoy.”
* * * *
At first, Janelle had been amused at the look of panic in the detective’s eyes. Her lap dance suggestion had clearly shocked him. She had no idea why she’d made it in the first place. To make him uncomfortable, as he always seemed to do to her?
Well, that certainly went along with her usual M.O. Heaven forbid, she let anyone tip the scales and have something on her. She preferred to be in control. A habit left over since childhood when her mother hadn’t been around and Janelle had taken care of her desperately needy sister.
Shaking her head, she pushed thoughts of her past from her mind. She needed to focus on the here and now. On the fact that Nate had a desirable woman dancing suggestively in front of him but he only had eyes for her.
Her skin warmed at the realization. Tingles teased along her spine and her nipples hardened beneath her dress, poking against the thin fabric for him to see.
He’d already gotten an eyeful. The performance earlier had aroused her, had aroused the both of them and she hadn’t been able to help herself when she’d begged him to kiss her.
Maybe he thought she was a slut, but she didn’t care. More than anything, she figured she confused him. She confused herself, yet she didn’t regret it. Kissing him, touching him, feeling his hard body pressed against hers for those brief moments had been more than worth it.
And when he’d touched her nipple, licked it, oh God, she thought she’d die on the spot.
There was no denying she’d agree if he took her back to his place. She wanted him. Wanted to kiss him everywhere, explore his body with her hands and mouth, feel him move inside of her.
It had been a long time since she’d wanted someone, let alone allowed someone to get close. It was a chance she rarely took, always protecting herself so she wouldn’t get hurt.
Tonight, she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to get hurt. Tonight, she wanted to get off. And no one would be able to get her off but Nathan Banks.
“You like her?” She inclined her head toward the dancer before them, impressed with the woman’s suggestive dancing.
Nate’s gaze met hers, dark and fathomless in the dim light. He slowly shook his head. “Not really.”
She smiled, not believing a word. “Don’t insult her. It’s not polite.”
A soft laugh emitted from the dancer and she straddled Nate, her slim thighs coming around him so that her knees rested on the booth seat on either side of his thighs. “Honey, he’s not even looking at me.”
“It’s true. I’m not,” Nate agreed.
“This is a waste of your one hundred dollars.” Janelle’s heart tightened in her chest.
Never had someone seemed so focused on her. She’d felt forgotten more than once, lost in the shadows, especially when dealing with an overwhelming personality such as Ginger’s.
It felt good to be the sole focus of someone’s intent.
He shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted to do it.”
“True.” She slid closer to him on the bench seat, not caring that her leg bumped up against the dancer’s.
She wanted to be closer to him. She almost wished she was the one writhing above him in a sensual dance.
Almost.
His hand slid across hers, fingers curling and he yanked her upper body closer to his. His head dipped so that it hovered above hers and he murmured, “Let’s get out of here.”
“What about your dance?” She sounded breathless, her voice shaky and she realized her entire body was trembling. With anticipation and a bit of fear mixed in.
“Forget the dance.” He nudged at the dancer’s waist with the tips of his fingers. “Sorry sweetheart, we need to go.”