34. June
JUNE
“There a problem, June Bug?” Ford questions.
My pulse quickens as his gaze holds mine at the bar.
It’s so intense. So brilliant. I can barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence based on logic as to why us being in the same room without any witnesses is probably a less-than-ideal situation if I have any hope of keeping my lady bits in my pants.
“June?” he rasps.
“Nope.”
“Ya hear that?” Jill says. “Right this way, darlin’.”
My legs feel like Jell-O as I slide off the barstool.
Jill guides us deeper into the strip club and toward where I assume the private rooms are located.
Part of me feels like I’m stepping into the pits of hell.
You know, if it was bedazzled and smelled like, what is that?
Sweet and rich with an undertone of sweat.
Interesting. The front is more of a vanilla and cigar elixir, but the further back we go, it changes.
Now, it’s more like… My nose lifts an inch higher, and I take in a whiff. Cotton candy and bourbon.
At least it doesn’t smell like pancakes. The first time I had sex, I could’ve sworn the guy’s cum smelled like pancake batter.
Not that this place is a brothel or anything. Or maybe it is? I don’t know!
My heart throbs behind my ribcage. Not because I don’t kind of, sort of want to give Ford a lap dance, but because I have no idea what to expect in the back of a strip club.
Is it dirty? Clean? Is there a lock? Wait, am I honestly considering giving Ford Harden a lap dance?
Here? Even after he’s been MIA all week?
“Whoa.” A big, burly man with a gold chain and a matching earring nearly runs into me in the hall. “Long way from home, aren’t you?”
“Keep it movin’, Rosco,” Jill orders.
I press my back against the wall, trying to make myself small in the tight space. His eyes trail up and down my body as he moves past me at a sloth’s pace, his chest grazing mine.
“Let it go, Ford,” Jill adds, not bothering to look behind her. “She’s off limits, Rosco. Now, go on.”
Mr. Earring grunts but finishes moving past me before disappearing behind another door at the back of the club. Part of me wants to ask where he’s going or what’s back there. The other part? I think ignorance is bliss. Even so, I can’t help but ask, “Hey, Jill?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
My brows pull, and I peek up at her again. “Should I be worried?” I whisper.
Jill gives me another glimpse of her amusement as she peers at me over her shoulder. “Nah, you got a big, strong man to look out for ya.”
Is that what Ford is? Big and strong, sure. But someone to look out for me? I’m not entirely convinced. Then again, maybe she’s referring to Ray at the front? He’s supposed to protect the girls, right? Even the ones who aren’t on the main stage?
A warm hand hits my back. “Don’t worry, Bug. I got you.”
The room is smaller than I expect. Music plays through the speakers in the ceiling, and a camera is set up in the corner of the room.
When Jill catches me staring at it, she murmurs, “Don’t worry, darlin’.
It’s just to keep our girls safe, but since you aren’t one of my girls quite yet, I’ll make sure security keeps the camera off. ”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She closes the door behind her as Ford collapses on the velvet loveseat in the center of the small room. Hanging his arms along the back, his chest open, and his legs spread like a freaking king, he cocks his head, watching me. “Should we wait for the next song, or…?”
Curse him and his teasing. “You really think I won’t do it?” I ask.
“Dance for me?” He licks his bottom lip. “You tell me.”
My gaze narrows.
Slowly, I sway my hips, moving toward the velvet loveseat while ignoring the way my stomach curdles.
So help me, I am determined to get this right. I think. Or maybe not. I feel stupid.
Come on, seductive instinct. I know you’re in there somewhere.
I start to raise my arms, but lower them just as quickly. That probably looked so stupid.
Keep moving, I remind myself.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, attempting to keep my rhythm no matter how ridiculous I feel.
But seriously? How do girls do this for a living?
I feel like I’m off-beat, and that I look stupid, and that he’s probably comparing this dance to every other lap dance he’s ever had, which I can only imagine is not a small number, and so much for liquid courage, because I think I might vomit.
Even with the music thumping through the speakers, it feels too quiet. Too intense.
Welp, at least I can say I tried. Now it’s time to cut my losses, change my name, and never look back. I stop dancing and cover my face.
“You know what? Forget it.”
“Wait.” His fingers envelop my wrist, preventing my escape as he stays sitting on the stupid loveseat.
I stare down at him, willing his fingers to ease their hold. “I know the girls said I should tease you, and that you like the chase, but I’m not the kind of girl.”
“You serious right now?” Ford demands.
“As E freaking D,” I toss back at him, “which is probably what you’re experiencing after that awful attempt at a lap dance. Seriously, if you could scrub it from your mind, you’d be doing both of us a favor,” I ramble.
“Who said you should tease me?”
“Vi and Lex, and I know they mean well, but I’ve never even seen someone give another person a lap dance before tonight, and I really thought I could walk in here and give you a good one?
Not to mention how many lap dances I’d be competing against.” I wave my free hand toward him.
“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share, and—”
“You.” He stands, refusing to let me give him any extra space when I try to step back. It brings us chest to chest. “Are the sexiest woman in this club.”
“Don’t say that.”
His touch is gentle as he grabs my chin, urging me to look at him. “You don’t believe me?”
“You just saw my attempt, and it was…”
“You were doing great.”
I peek up at him through my lashes. “Liar.”
He bites back his smirk. “Okay, you were a little stiff, but it’s only because you’re nervous.”
“So, if I loosen up, it’ll be better?”
“Yeah.” Something softens in his gaze. It makes me want to believe him. To trust him with something as vulnerable as being an eye-witness to a not-so-sexy lap dance.
His thumb skates across the inside of my wrist, and my pulse jumps at the innocent contact.
Heck, it feels like it’s directly connected to my clit, which is dangerous at best. I should go.
The thing is, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be a girl who runs.
I want to be a girl who stays. Who’s sexy and confident and has the power to bring a guy like Ford to his knees, even if it’s only for one night. One dance. One song.
Peeking up at him, I whisper, “Will you…teach me?”
“You want me to teach you how to give me a lap dance?”
Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I lick my bottom lip. “Yes.”
His green gaze bounces around my face, taking in every inch and making me feel more exposed than I care to admit, before his grasp on my wrist disappears and his warm breath hits my cheeks. “Close your eyes.”
“Ford.”
“Close them.”
My eyelids flutter, but I do as I’m told.
“Good girl.”
I can feel his presence shift as he circles me. One slow step at a time. “Pretend I’m not here. I want you to listen to the song. Feel the beat. The rhythm. The pulse.”
I take a deep breath in through my nose, willing my eyes to stay shut tight.
“Are you listening?” he murmurs.
I don’t recognize the song, but it’s slow and sultry. Tilting my head, I listen to the words. The sexy tone.
His hands find my waist. “There she is. Now move your hips.” I sway them from side to side, rolling ever so slightly in time with the song, letting his gentle grasp guide my movements.
After a few measures, he lets me go. “Perfect. Just like that.” I keep up the movement, swaying and rolling as I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter.
I can feel him still circling me. The sound of his footsteps.
His fingers dance along my bare arm before he grabs my wrist and brings our hands up before placing mine on his shoulder.
Then he sits down on the velvet loveseat, and I move closer. “Keep going,” he grinds out.
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I try to stay lost in the music and out of my head. Swaying my hips from side to side, I let the familiar beat wash over me.
“Arch your back.”
I do.
“Now turn around,” he urges.
My heart pounds against my rib cage, but I do as I follow his guidance, continuing the same sexy churn of my hips and sway of my body.
Peeking one eye open, I stare at the door, telling myself I’m alone in the room.
That the only person I’m dancing for is me.
I drag my hands along the sides of my breasts, then down to my waist, when his hand brushes against my hips, and he drags me closer to him.
My breath hitches, but I don’t turn around.
Instead, I zero in on the rhythm and keep dancing.
“Fuck, you have no idea how sexy you are,” he murmurs.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I almost believe him. Hanging onto the slight grittiness in his tone, I bend at the waist, shimmying my butt a few inches from his face. His hands tighten on me as a low groan escapes him.
I have no idea what he’s seeing right now. Okay, I know, but I don’t know. Does he like it? The view? Is he turned on? Grossed out? Okay, that’s probably a stretch. He has to be at least slightly interested, doesn’t he?
I push my hair over my shoulder and peek back at him, finding so much heat in his eyes I might just burn up on the spot.
“Am I doing okay?”
Tongue in cheek, he shakes his head. “You want to talk about teasing, June Bug? I’m so hard for you right now, I can barely think straight.”
Pride swells in my chest, so I do it again, bending and shimmying, and shaking my ass a few inches from his face. He leans forward, letting the heat of his mouth seep through my skirt and right against my aching core.
Ooookay. Yup. Yup, that’ll do.