Chantelle shifts on her feet, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes volleying the floor like it will give her the answers she is looking for.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she says, meeting my gaze and forcing me to look away from her mouth. “Davidson comes every night, he’s a regular. He’s harmless.”
I hum, pushing away from the wall. Chantelle’s body freezes when I step into her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at me.
“It seems my reputation precedes me, and it seems you have made up your mind about me as well.” She swallows, jade eyes bouncing between my own. “How would you feel if I told you I did kill him for putting his hands on you?” She stares at me a moment before speaking. So hesitant this one. “Well?” I press.
“I’m not yours just because you stuck your dick in my mouth,” Chantelle spits. I release her jaw and smirk, letting the tension build inside me.
“You’re a dancer in my club,” I say. “I am responsible for your safety. You were uncomfortable, I handled him.”
“Something tells me it’s more than that.”
“Oh?” I question.
“You fucked with my income, asshole.” Looks like someone found their temper.
“Tell me, Little Bird,” I say, leaning down to her ear, letting my lips brush softly against the shell. “It’s not that I killed a man in your honor that bothers you, but the fact you are short a regular customer. Should I pay you for your time and make up for your set back?”
“I’m not a fucking prostitute,Omen.”
My hand snakes out and circles her neck, pulling her closer. “What if I told you I did not kill your boy?”
Chantelle stares at me through wide eyes, my grip tight enough to make a point but not enough to fully deprive her of oxygen. She is too precious to break, no matter how much I want to, I like her as she is. Both hard and soft at the same time.
“Did you or did you not kill Davidson?”
“I did not kill him,” I admit, pausing to think about how much I should tell her. The blood should be enough evidence. “But he will not touch you again and that is all that matters.”
“Why do you come here all the time, Nate?” I watch her while she finds her voice, she is unable to meet my eyes now. “I’ve worked here a while now and you’ve never come until a few weeks ago. It’s always been your boys.”
The honest answer is I do not know. I do not know why this small woman sparks an interest in me that I thought had died almost thirty years ago. I do not know why all my self-control depletes when she is in the room and why I love how it feels. It would be easy to just say it was her.
But is it?
Has the sudden spiral of my life made me latch onto something that feels good? Perhaps.
Chantelle’s arms hold her middle like she is afraid of what I might say. That I might confess I come for her. The thought that this woman is more terrified that I might tell her she has gained an admirer in me than who I am and only minutes ago she was questioning if I killed a man is comical.
“I am not sure you want to hear that answer, Little Bird,” I say. “But I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“You have a wife.”
I stifle a shudder at her statement, unsure of where it came from. I cock an eyebrow and tilt my head to the side waiting for her to continue with whatever point she wants to make.
“I’m not a prostitute and I sure as fuck am not a homewrecker.” She juts her chin out in defiance and I swallow a laugh at the cuteness. “I’m not your whore.”
I step into her, our bodies flush. Chantelle sucks in a sharp breath, craning her neck as I invade what little space she had. My hand reaches up and finds its home around her throat once again. I revel in the shudder that wracks her body under my touch.
“Do not speak to me about my wife that you know nothing about.” My tone low even though it is just the two of us. "I promise you if anyone is a homewrecker it’s her. I only offered you money because you’re concerned about your income. If you think that makes you a whore then get on your knees, if not then there’s the door.”
“Fuck you,” she growls.
I smile. “Brilliantly said, Little Bird.”
Her eyes round and I spin her around, grabbing a fist full of her messy bun and shoving her down on the desk. She puts her hands out to catch her fall, I use my body weight to pin her so she can use her hands.
Yanking her head back, her neck strains at an odd angle. Whimpers sneak past her parted lips, and I lean into her ear. “Tell me no.” She presses her ass into my hard cock, swallowing thickly.