“Youlikedthe show?” He asks. His voice seems deeper than a second ago, rumbling through him.
I nod jerkily. “I really liked it,” I whisper.
He studies me silently for a few seconds, his brown eyes almost black in the low light. “And you don’t mind?” He says eventually.
“Mind what?”
“That I take all my clothes off in public?” I just stare at him. He takes another step closer. “That I strip off and oil myself up for money? That there are hundreds of videos of me body-rolling in a G-string online? That I give strange women lap dances and grind them halfway to climax five nights a week?”
Oh, Jesus. “You do? When?”
“Second act.”
I bite my lip. “Why would I mind?”
“Because most people mind, Beth,” he snaps, anger infusing his tone.
“Really? Who?”
“My parents. Most of my ex-girlfriends. Pretty much every woman I’ve ever liked.” He gestures at the waistband on his pants. “I just shook the same dick you sucked last night in front of a crowd of other women. Doesn’t that piss you off?”
“I don’t remember signing an exclusive rights agreement before putting it in my mouth. Pretty sure your dick is still yours to do what you want with.” I swallow thickly. “I think your show was really hot, Cy.”
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes burning into mine like he’s searching for the lie. I can barely breathe. It feels like this tiny cupboard is getting smaller, closing in around us like an Indiana Jones booby trap.
A sudden, heavy knock on the door breaks the building tension, and I jump out of my skin.
“Five minutes, man,” someone calls through the wood. “Get a move on.”
“Piss off,” Cyrus calls back, not taking his eyes off me. I can feel my blush seeping over my skin.
“Um.” I reach for the door handle. “I guess I should, uh, get going. Um. I’ll see you tomo—”
He takes another step closer, pinning me up against the wall. His spicy scent floods my senses. A strangled moan falls out of my throat, and his Adam’s apple bobs.
“You think it’shot?” He demands.
“W-well yeah? That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? I—” I stutter into silence as he takes my hand, running his finger over the lines of my palm.
“And you don’t mind?” He asks, his voice softening.
“I think we have established that I don’t give a fuck if you shake your dick around in public, yes. It would be pretty hypocritical, considering how much I enjoyed watching.”
“But what about Cami?” He protests.
I blink. “Um. What about her?”
“When you first came to our flat, you wanted to take her away,” he reminds me. “Obviously, you can’t do that, since she’s not mine, but… will you still let me, like, play with her?” His thumb strokes over the inside of my wrist.
I stare at him like he’s an idiot. “I can’t stop you playing with Cami, Cy. And there’s no way I ever would.” He looks uncertain, like he doesn’t believe me. My throat hurts. Does he really think his job makes him so morally deviant that he shouldn’t be allowed around children? “Tons of parents strip, usually tosupporttheir kids. That doesn’t make them bad parents. As long as you’re not bringing her here for ‘take your daughter to work day’, I don’t see how your job has anything to do with Cami.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, still running his fingers over my palm. Then his grip closes around my wrist. With his dark eyes still locked on my face, he dips his head and presses his lips to mine.
It’s a hard, hot, sudden kiss, and it short-circuits something in my brain. My mind goes blank. I sag against his front as he pulls me closer, crushing us together. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest. I lean into him, wanting more, but he pulls away before I fully register what’s happening. “You liked the dance,” he mumbles against my open mouth.
I nod, gasping, and he bends so his lips are brushing my cheek. “You want the full package?” He asks quietly, his breath warming my hair.
“Yes,” I whisper. Heat is thudding between my legs. I don’t even know what the full package is, but this man could do pretty much anything to me at this point, and I’d probably beg for more. My skin feels like it’s on fire. I’m trembling against him.