Vanessa
Chapter five
Five hours later, I’m seven hundred dollars richer. Granted, I need to make a trip out to New York to give my mom some money, and there’s no doubt Russ is going to be asking for a cut as well, but it feels good to have made my own cash tonight.
One thing I didn’t count on was basically giving Braxton his own show.
There were other people in the room, but it sure as shit didn’t feel like it when our gazes locked.
I didn’t go out on stage with the intention of whatever that was happening, but I couldn’t stop it either.
The second I looked at him, I could hardly look away or give a shit that there were other people in the audience.
The ride home is as tense as the ride to the club, but this time I feel it coming from Braxton instead of me.
I was nervous about him watching me dance.
When we’re at the clubhouse, things are friendly between us.
I’m just a girl in a tough spot who he’s helping out.
We’ve chatted, played pool together and watched movies.
Kind of like roomies, except I’ve been fantasizing about the night he and I had together when I go to bed.
So far, I’ve been able to separate business and pleasure.
But tonight…tonight is a different story.
I’m thinking thoughts I shouldn’t, blurring lines that should stay clear and crisp.
“You tired?” Braxton asks as we pull up to the clubhouse and Rocky opens the gate.
“Kind of wired, actually. I get like that after work sometimes,” I reply.
Braxton doesn’t say anything as he parks his truck, gets out, and rushes over to my door to open it for me.
“Such a gentleman,” I say with a smirk.
He shoots me a tense smile. “Sometimes. Sometimes not so much.”
“Oh, I remember. And I remember liking the ungentlemanly side of you very much.” Shit, I did not mean to say that out loud.
Braxton works his jaw back and forth and meets my gaze since I refuse to look away. I may not have meant to say it, but I’ll be damned if I hide from it. He grabs my bag from me before turning toward the clubhouse without saying a word.
When we step through the door, the place is quiet. Danny and Logan are playing pool, but no other brothers are around.
“Hey, Van. How was work?” Logan asks.
“Great,” I reply. “You guys should come in sometime when you have a night off. I think the other girls would love you.”
“We’ll have to do that,” Danny says.
Logan and Danny look at something over my shoulder, then quickly refocus on the pool table.
My head turns, and I spot Braxton giving the two prospects a look that can only be described as rigid. It’s as though every muscle on his face is strained to the point that I’m afraid he might sprain something, if that could even happen.
His gaze darts to me, and he subtly relaxes his mouth in a barely-there smile. “How about a drink?”
“Sounds great,” I reply as he walks behind the bar and sets my bag on the bar top. I have a seat on one of the stools and fold my hands in front of me. “Look at you playing bartender.” My tone is light, hoping the mood of the man in front of me will follow suit.
“You’re easy.” Braxton holds up a bottle of red and a bottle of white wine, but I shake my head.
“I’m in the mood for tequila,” I say. He nods, setting the wine aside and grabbing a bottle of my favorite tequila. The same tequila we were drinking the night we met. “You remember.”
“Not much about that night I don’t.” He clears his throat, looking suddenly shy as though he didn’t mean to let that slip. Must be something in the air, because it looks like we’re both admitting things we don’t mean to tonight.
Braxton pours us both a shot and lifts his glass. “To…” His head tilts back and forth as he considers a toast.
“To shaking my ass and making money.”
Braxton barks out a sudden laugh. “Sounds good to me.”
We clink glasses and both throw back the shot, slamming our glasses on the bar at the same time.
“Another?” he asks, and I nod.
He pours us two more tequila shots, but this time he sets the bottle on the bar and walks around, taking the stool next to mine.
When he lifts his glass, his gaze captures and holds mine in an invisible vice. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. And right now, I don’t.
“To second chances.”
My head tilts to the side. “Second chances?”
“You ran out on me the last time we drank tequila together. Now you won’t get very far considering your room is next to mine.” Then he winks. That fucking wink is something else and I’m not sorry to say I don’t hate it. But maybe I should.
“Braxton…”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Vanessa.”
“Hey, we’re headed to bed, unless you need anything,” Danny says from behind me.
I turn around and notice the pool table is clear and the sticks have been put away. Logan walks behind the bar and tosses a couple of empty beer bottles in the trash.
“We’re good here,” Braxton says, then looks at me. “How about you, Vanessa?”
“All good,” I squeak out.
Danny and Logan say their good nights and head back to their rooms, leaving Braxton and me alone.
“I should head to my room, too,” I say.
Nerves combined with the tequila can make for some very poor decisions. Or very good decisions, depending on how you look at it.
Braxton doesn’t respond, but his eyes are smoldering as though he’s been having the same thoughts I’ve had this last week.
“You looked good up there tonight,” he says as he sips his shot.
“You disappeared after my first set. Should have stuck around. You would have loved the feathers I played with in my second show.”
Braxton’s jaw tics, and he looks away.
“Do you have a problem with me dancing at your club?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“Then why did you disappear?”
Braxton clears his throat. “Sylvie needed some help with inventory.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re full of shit, Braxton.” I down the rest of my shot and stand from the barstool. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for the ride and the shots.”
“Vanessa—”
“Listen, I’m pretty wiped.” I’m not, but I’m not going to sit here and allow him to lie to me. And yes, I am completely aware of how hypocritical that sounds, considering what I’m doing here.
I turn and grab my bag on my way to my room. “Night,” I call out.
When I get to my bedroom, I shut the door loudly behind me and throw my bag on the floor.
Laughter bubbles from my throat, but it holds no amusement.
Everyone is all fine and dandy with me being a dancer until they’re faced with what that looks like.
I don’t carry shame for what I do, but it’s starting to sound like Braxton does, which pisses me the hell off.
A knock sounds at my door, and I know exactly who it is. I could ignore it and say I was in the shower if he asks tomorrow, or I could open the door and give the biker a piece of my mind. Two shots in, and I’m feeling a little feisty. Option two it is.
“What do you want?” I ask, cranking the door wide open.
He’s standing at the threshold with his arms crossed across his chest. “I think you have the wrong idea about why I disappeared tonight.”
“I know, I know. You think me being a dancer is no big deal, but the second you’re faced with what that actually means, it’s a whole other ball game.”
His head jerks back. “The fuck? Where did you get that idea?”
“You think you’re the first man to think watching me dance wouldn’t be hard on them? That seeing other men look at me wouldn’t piss them off?”
“That is absolutely not what happened. And you fucking know it. Did you even notice those men when you were on stage? Because I sure as hell didn’t.
I couldn’t have cared less about who was looking at you because the only person I saw in that club was you, and I know damn fucking well it was the same for you. ”
“I was doing my job,” I reply with my arms crossed, mirroring his stance.
Braxton huffs out a puff of air. “Now who’s full of shit?”
I don’t particularly care to be called out, especially when I know he’s right. There was an electric current locking us together when I was on stage tonight. “Okay, yes. Something happened tonight when I was dancing. I’ve never…” I shake my head, not really knowing how to finish that sentence.
“Me neither. But it felt like that night in New York. And fuck, if that didn’t mess with my head.”
I look down at the ground. “That night in New York ended differently than this one,” I whisper as I remember stumbling back to Braxton’s hotel room, barely able to keep our hands off each other.
The way he pinned me against the mirror of the elevator and fucking devoured my mouth.
That night ended with multiple orgasms and some of my best memories.
“Do you want it to?”
I’m silent for several beats, staring at where Braxton’s boots are toeing the edge of the threshold to my bedroom. When I look up and see the question in his eyes, the stillness of his chest, I have only one true answer to give him. “No.”
Braxton steps forward and wraps his arm around my waist while his hand cups the side of my face. “Thank fuck.”
He dips his head and takes my mouth in a kiss that holds nothing back.
It’s been so long since I felt his lips on mine, but we’re instantly in sync like all those years ago.
The taste of his mouth, the feel of his lips, is so familiar, and I didn’t realize until this moment exactly how much I missed it.
My hands clutch his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles.
When his tongue swipes the seam of my lips, my mouth opens to him and a desperate moan escapes as his tongue dances with mine.
Fuck, this man is an amazing kisser. Each swipe is a preview of what I know he can do with that tongue in other places.
My hands run around to his front and up his chest, relishing every groove of hard muscle I feel over his clothes—which there are far too many of in my opinion.