Chapter 31 #2
Not a lick of dirt on ‘em. Not a bit of grit or sweat on those bodies, just shine.
The tempo spikes. Feet pound. Bass rattles the room. Dancers leap, twisting mid-air.
No one’s sitting—except me.
I’m not standing the fuck up. And I swear, more than a few women are about to throw themselves on stage, and the dancers feed off it. They move faster, push the intensity higher, and build toward a climax I can’t wait to end.
By the time they’re down to nothing but assless chaps and sweat, I look for the nearest exit. Before I can escape, a handful of dancers jump off the stage like Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. They start pulling people—and it ain’t all women—from the audience to use as props on the stage.
I sink further in my seat.
Squeals at various pitches are starting to give me a headache.
Dean leans in front of Wyatt to shout at me. “Do you think Sterling ever danced in a revue like this?”
I launch my arm behind Wyatt and punch Dean’s shoulder.
“There are some images I absolutely refuse to have enter my brain.” I punch him again.
Deep into the show, a dancer jumps off the stage. It’s not the first time a spotlight goes crisscrossing through the audience. It is the first time it lands on one of our girls.
No.
On Jade, to be precise.
Hell no.
One of the Rodeo Romeos makes his way through the sea of women.
“Care for a dance, darlin’?” His voice has all that southern charm, but the accent is off.
I’d even go as far as to say fake.
Her sisters pull and push Jade into the aisle, and she collides into the man’s chest. Thankfully, he has a vest on.
Jade looks reluctant and even takes a couple of steps to return to her seat, but Josie won’t hear of it.
How she gets from the far end close enough to block her sister is record time.
Jade’s eyes flicker to the wannabe wrangler. “I guess that’s a yes.”
A wave of high-pitched shrieks rolls through the crowd, arms fluttering upward.
The dancer grabs her hand and leads her to the stage. I watch, unable to move, as she’s pulled into the spotlight and sits on the stool in the center of the stage.
I shift uncomfortably.
“Why are you here tonight?” At least this male dancer is dressed—for now.
“Crossing items off a bucket list.” Jade points both index fingers at her shirt, and the crowd laughs.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Nearly orgasmically so.” Jade’s saucy grin does all kinds of things to me down below.
The maverick misfit turns to the audience. “We have a live one here!”
Not as lively as the crowd’s reaction.
“Perfect cowgirl to share this last dance before the finale.”
Jade does a little swing of her hips in the seat.
“Ooo la la. Do you like cowboys?”
“I do.”
I want her to look at me, acknowledge me, but she doesn’t.
The crowd swells to a fever pitch, and I do everything I can not to roll my eyes. Pretty confident, I rolled my eyes.
The music starts. A beat I know all too well, and that song rips open my chest.
My eyes snap to her, and I see her smile falter, just a fraction, a heartbeat.
A heartbeat that feels like an eternity.
It’s our song—again.
My throat tightens.
Her eyes land on me, and I see a shadow of something familiar. Something that stings. And then—just like that—it’s gone.
She’s on stage now, and he owns her.
“As the midnight moon was drifting through...”
The dancer starts slow, gyrating his hips to the beat of the music. His chaps hug his tight, bare ass, leaving little to the imagination.
His hand reaches out to caress her cheek. She looks up at him, her eyes wide. He leans down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers something that makes her blush.
It hits me like a punch to the gut. This is my song, and that’s my woman, but I can’t claim either.
“The lazy sway of the trees...”
The dancer shifts closer, provocative, his movements more intense.
My heart fucking pounds.
His hips thrust towards her, his cock barely contained by the thong.
Jade bites her lip, her eyes never leaving his, and jealousy courses through me.
He spins her around on the stool, her back now facing him. His hands run up her back before they settle on her shoulders. His fingers press into her skin.
My heart stops.
Then that fucker runs his hands down the sides of her body, stopping at her hips, and spinning her again.
I swallow hard, my insides coiling.
He pulls her towards him, grinding against her.
I can barely watch as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her into him with a possessive force.
Her chest presses against his, and I hate it. I hate how close they are, but more, I hate that it’s not me. He pulls her into a slow grind, their bodies moving together.
She’s giggling and blushing.
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even glance over her shoulder.
And that’s what kills me.
Her eyes are on him: his hands, his chest, his rhythm. She’s caught up in all of it.
And damn it, I’m jealous.
He spins her again, fast this time, and she stumbles. But he’s quick, catching her by the hips, lifting her into the air just enough for her to look weightless. She doesn’t hesitate. She wraps her legs around his waist, and the sight of it drives a spike of heat into my veins.
Her face is flushed, her eyes half-lidded, and for just a second, she meets my gaze.
I don’t know if she even knows it, but it’s there. That look. The one that says “I want you” without a single word.
It’s enough to keep me rooted in place.
But it’s also enough to make me want to storm up there, yank her out of his arms, and never let her go.
The crowd roars as he dips her down low, her back arching, the movement so fluid. When he brings her up, her chest pressing against his, and she gasps, arms slipping around his neck.
It’s too much.
I can’t sit here and watch this.
I stand so quick my head rushes.
I have to get out of here. I need to walk away, because if I stay, I might do something I regret.
But as I turn toward the exit, I catch her eye one more time, just for a split second.
Her lips part again, and for a moment, I think she’s about to call my name. But then the song climaxes, the moment passes, and she’s back in his arms.
And I know, deep down, that no matter how hard I fight it, it’s too late for me, and that knowledge is going to be my undoing.
I turn to leave.
Dean pulls my arm. “What are you doing?”
“I need air,” I choke on the words and stride straight out of the room.
I gasp for air as I exit the auditorium and stop in the atrium of the theater. The music floats into the space.
Anything but this fucking song.
I bend, my fingers driving into my hips.
Of course, it had to be this song. It’s karma biting me in the ass for being a wimp all those years ago. For the fear I felt when I saw what I could never unsee, and letting that be the reason I walked away from her.
If a song can make me spiral out of control like this, it just underscores the fact that all these years later, I’m still not man enough for her.
“Excuse me, sir.” A light tap on my arm brings me out of my reverie.
A woman wearing a headset flashes a smile at me. “You’re with the lady on the stage?” Before I can utter a reply, she continues. “Of course you are, you’re wearing the same shirt.”
These damn shirts.
“Follow me.” She heads down a narrow hallway.
I follow. I don’t know why, but I do.
“I’m the Theatre Liaison,” she adds, glancing back at me with a tight smile. “She’ll come off the stage back here since she’s the final solo dancer. You can greet her in this area and then take her up front.”
Her voice barely registers. I’m too focused on the fact that she’s up there, the woman I never had the guts to admit I’ve always loved.
My chest tightens, but I don’t say anything. I just nod and follow her.
The beat of my heart is erratic now. My nerves crawl up my spine, my hands are clammy as I grip the side of the wall and see Jade. She’s back on that damn chair again.
Every part of me wants to get the hell out of here, but I can’t. Sweat trickles down my neck, and the overwhelming sound of my pulse rings in my ears.
Everything feels so damn loud.
So out of control.
And then, the last notes hit.
Our song.
My chest feels like thunder splitting the sky and like I’m losing something I never even had.
I want to move, but I can’t—can’t stop watching her.
Her eyes flicker across the room, scanning the crowd.
She’s looking for me.
It hits me hard.
She feels it, too—that damn song. That look—the one that used to stop time between us.
The performer moves closer to her, grinning and sliding his hand up her arm. She’s caught in the show, her eyes flicking back to him.
He spins her, pulling her into him, lifting her high off the ground before setting her back on the stool and strutting away.
The crowd cheers, but it’s all background noise. I’m not watching him anymore. All I see is her. Every movement, every flick of her hair, and every light in her eyes. It’s like she’s dancing with me.
It’s always been just her and me. I just couldn’t tell her.
But nothing is holding me back in this moment.
Nothing but myself.
It’s now or never.