Chapter Fifteen #2
This is just another job. A little titillation. It’s the tease he loves.
I straddle the chair. I make eye contact with a married Brody Conway.
I roll my hips and work my body in time with the beat.
As the outward layers come off, on the inside I steel myself.
I think of Jake, and how I wish I’d given myself to him this evening.
How I wish I hadn’t paused when he called me a virgin.
Hell, maybe I should have pretended I was, but there’s so much he doesn’t know already that I don’t want to add that to the list.
The truth is I’m scared to be honest with Jake, because as soon as he knows the truth about me, I know he’ll walk away.
There are so many decent girls out there he could talk to, and he thinks I’m one of them.
I want to dance for him like this, then have him sweep me into his arms and take me to bed.
But the truth is I’m dancing for a client. This is my job. I do it for the money.
When the song is almost over, I ease the lace thong from my hips, and it drops to the floor. And, once more, I’m fully naked in Brody Conway’s presence.
When the music comes to an end, he leans forward and gives a slow clap. I stand there in silence.
Brody licks his lips. ‘Do one thing for me?’
I frown. ‘What?’
‘Sit down on the chair for me.’
I turn and go to plant my ass on the chair, but he stops me.
‘No, no, like you did at the beginning. Straddle it.’
I pause, because I know what he wants. The chair has an open back, and he wants me to spread my legs for him.
My jaw clenches. I remind myself that it’s all just for show, though the idea makes my stomach churn. I do as he asks, and his eyes come alive at the sight of my pussy, splayed open for him.
‘So, so perfect,’ he says in a low growl.
‘Time’s up,’ I say, and get to my feet. Keeping my thighs together, I crouch rather than bend to collect the lingerie and the shoes from the floor then march on back to the bedroom.
I don’t even bid him goodbye. Once I’m dressed and my coat is back on, I walk out the door, where Jax is waiting for me.
It’s gone two a.m. by the time I make it home. I gotta get to the diner by eight.
A part of me knows I can’t go on like this. There’s tension in my lower back. My ankles are sore. There’s an ache deep in my glutes and in my hamstrings. I feel like I have old lady knees. My body aches from this constant, punishing schedule.
In front of the mirror, I peel off my false lashes, but I hardly have enough energy to remove my makeup. I force myself into cleaning it all off, before I give a big yawn. I throw on an oversized T-shirt and cotton panties then crawl under the covers.
In the darkness, in the comfort of my bed – the same one I’ve been sleeping in since I was a girl – my mind goes back to Jake. I think about the cell phone he gave me.
I switch the light back on and go to my bag. I turn on the handset, then enter in the security code – Jake’s birthday – just as he told me.
I’m thinking about what to say to him when some messages pop up:
I’m so sorry.
I messed up.
Please forgive me.
My heart beats faster. I climb back into the bed and snuggle under the covers, like a teenage girl with a crush. Because that’s what this feels like.
The next message reads:
I’d never try to pressure you. I hope you know that. I’ll understand if you decide you can’t see me because it’s too risky for you. For the record, I think it’s a dumb rule, but it’s not my decision.
His final words read:
But, also for the record, I’m completely crazy about you.
I bite my lip, trying to stop my smile from spreading. It doesn’t work. Underneath the covers, I type:
I’m sorry I ran out on you. Again.
When I hit the send key, a moment later, three dots appear to show that Jake is typing:
Are you still awake?
I pause. I don’t wanna have to explain that I just got home from working two out of my three jobs, plus a drive out to pay him a visit at the cabin, and that I’m beat.
The dots appear again and another message pops up:
Don’t suppose we could talk? Can I call?
I push back the covers and sit up. I don’t wanna wake my dad, but equally, I need to apologize. Again. Always again.
Sure, I type and hit the send key.
Within seconds, the cell starts to vibrate. It’s a voice call.
‘Hi,’ I say in a whisper as I answer.
‘Hey,’ he responds, and it sounds a little strangled.
‘I gotta keep the noise down. My dad’s sleeping.’
‘That’s cool. You’re up late.’
‘I couldn’t sleep.’ Not that I’ve even tried.
‘Me either. I just… I needed to say I’m sorry again. About earlier. I totally assumed something about you, and it was wrong of me to do so.’
I feel like he’s rehearsed that sentence a few times. Not that it sounds disingenuous, just that I detect that same trepidation in his tone.
‘I’m sorry I walked out. I shouldn’t have done that either. I guess I kinda panicked that you didn’t really know me. That we didn’t really know each other and already we were… you know.’
‘I agree with you one hundred per cent.’
I believe him. I feel like he’s being honest with me. And, though I can’t be fully honest with him, I need to get to the bottom of something.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I say.
‘Anything.’
I dip my head and pull my hair over one shoulder. ‘Do I make you, like… nervous?’
He makes an uhhh sound before I hear his awkward laugh. ‘Honestly? I thought I’d cracked the whole talking-to-girls thing in high school. I never met a woman who turned me into a complete mess before.’
There he goes, being all cute again. ‘Do I take that as a compliment?’
I hear him exhale. ‘Yes. That’s definitely a compliment.
You are… seriously, you’re the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes upon.
And the sweetest. And I don’t say those things lightly.
All I wanna do is get to know you. Spend some time with you.
And we don’t have to… you know… worry about anything else. ’
Most guys I’ve been with, they’re not shy to talk about sex. Who’d have thought a rugged football player of all people can’t even say the word? ‘Okay. I think I can handle that,’ I tell him.
He sounds excited. ‘Seriously? Are you free tomorrow night?’
My heart plummets in my chest. Saturday, I work a day shift at the diner, followed by another long shift at Surly’s. There’s no way Kale will let me have the night off on a Saturday.
‘How about Sunday?’
He sounds unsure. ‘I have curfew Sunday night, before Monday’s game. My mom likes me to accompany her to church in the morning. I could get to the cabin, but we wouldn’t have long.’
‘It’s just that… tomorrow is… it’s gonna be difficult for me.’
‘I can be at the cabin two o’clock Sunday?’
‘I have practice at the Danube Sunday morning. What time is team curfew?’
‘We gotta be at the hotel by eight-thirty.’
‘Then we’ll have a few hours, right?’
I can tell he’s masking a degree of disappointment in his tone. ‘Right. Okay.’
‘So…’ I hum, ‘I’ll see you Sunday. Two o’clock. And don’t be nervous.’
He laughs at that. ‘I’ll try not to be. See you then. Get some sleep.’
‘Night, Jake.’
I hang up and fall back against my pillows. The phones were a good idea.
But meeting up with him again at the cabin on Sunday? Maybe not so much.
Because I can feel it in the butterflies in my stomach.
The ones that tell me I’m falling.