Chapter 16 Chance
SIXTEEN
CHANCE
“It’s a damn good thing looks don’t kill, or we’d be looking for a whole new fleet of dancers.”
Roman takes a pull from his beer, not intimidated in the least by my glare and threatening tone.
But he and Austin know they can poke the bear without fear of the bear rearing up and taking a swipe.
Anyone else would find themselves with a few new gaps in their smile, but these guys have immunity when it comes to my wrath.
“His point, brother,” Austin says with a shit-eating grin, “is that you’ve shot daggers at every guy who’s talked with our Janey there.”
“First of all, asshole, there’s no ‘our’ when it comes to Jane,” I grind out, making sure I keep my voice low enough so no one else hears me.
“And second, if I’m giving anyone dirty looks, it’s because she’s here in a professional capacity, and every single one of them is flirting with her like she’s a goddamn client. ”
Roman chuckles. “Give the guys a break, man. It’s in their nature to charm the panties off a woman, and last I checked, Jane has tits. Hell, I wouldn’t mind charming my way into her panties. Feel like sharing?”
Do not kill your best friend. Do not kill your best friend.
Balling my fists at my sides, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I level my gaze at Roman. “I think I’ll keep this one to myself, thanks.”
He shrugs with a smirk as Austin adds, “Okay, but if you change your mind, let us know, because I am definitely down for some ménage action with that one. Is it just me, or do those glasses actually make her look hotter?”
That’s it. They’re dead.
As I’m contemplating all the ways to hide their bodies, the guys start laughing. “Damn, bro, you’ve got it bad,” Roman says. “Why don’t you just admit that you like the girl? Stake your claim already, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, man, lock that shit down before someone else does.” This from Austin. “A girl like that doesn’t come around every day.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
I look over at Jane just as she glances in my direction.
She smiles at me, and it feels like the clouds have parted, allowing the warmth of the sun’s rays to bathe my face.
I give her a wink and revel in the blush that steals across her cheeks.
Every time I see it, I get a high I’ve never gotten from anything else.
Not dancing, not stripping, not winning a huge bid…
Not even sex. Except for sex with Jane. Because nothing feels better than that.
She clears her throat, tucks her chestnut hair behind one ear, and turns her attention back to Derrick and her notes. And just like that, the clouds converge and steal my sunshine.
Fuck. The woman has me waxing poetic, and it’s been years since that side of me has seen the light of day.
You wouldn’t guess it knowing me now, but I used to be a pretty big romantic.
The guys used to give me shit for it, and called me Romeo, which is where my stripper alias—and my cat’s name—comes from.
I wasn’t all that crazy with the hearts and flowers shit.
Really, I was just a thoughtful guy. But when you’re a decent guy in a sea of assholes, you come out smelling like a rose and branded “the best guy a girl could ask for.” Those were my ex-fiancée’s words, not mine.
But that only lasts so long before the subtle manipulation starts, the attempts to mold you into their definition of the perfect man. That’s when you either play along and sell your soul to the devil, or throw up your deuces and get the hell out of Dodge.
I’d chosen the latter and made a plan to never again put myself in a position where a woman thinks she has the right to ask me to change who or what I am, or what I do. The plan had been working out great…until I met Jane Wendall.
The woman has “win” written all over her. Sexually, we couldn’t be more compatible. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than Jane when she submits to me. It’s the biggest fucking turn-on to watch her slip into that headspace.
But beyond the bedroom, she has a quirky sense of humor that constantly takes me by surprise.
Whether she’s wearing her IHOP uniform, her professional day-job clothes, or pajamas with pandas, I find her breathtakingly beautiful.
And since we’ve started talking a lot more about things other than sex, I’ve realized how smart she is, and damn if I don’t find her brain just as sexy as her body.
She has the old, romantic me asking all kinds of crazy “what if” questions I’m not prepared to answer. And the douchebags I call my best friends are only encouraging him.
“Jane and I have a good thing going with our no-strings arrangement. I don’t see any reason to fix what isn’t broken.”
Roman scoffed. “I’ll give you a reason. Jane’s not the kind of girl you can treat like a casual fuck forever.
It might not be today, and it might not be tomorrow, but eventually she’s going to want more.
And if she doesn’t get it from you, there’ll be plenty of guys lined up who are more than willing to give it to her.
I can name at least five in this room alone. ”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I scan the basement, scouring for signs of who Roman is referring to—the ones who would take Jane from me given the chance.
Fuck that. She’s mine, goddamn it, and they can keep their filthy paws to themselves or suffer dismemberment.
“I gotta go,” I say, my eyes landing on Jane. “You guys know the way out. See that you find it.”
Stalking across the room, I reach where she’s sitting and interrupt Derrick.
“Sorry, D, but this interview is over for now. If Jane needs anything else from you, I’ll let you know.
” Without waiting for a response from either of them, I grab her hand and pull her to her feet before leading her up to the kitchen on the main floor.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I took too long. It’s late, and we’re in your house, and—”
“I don’t care about any of that.” I can’t take another second of watching someone else touching and flirting with what’s mine.
She’s looking up at me, waiting for an explanation of my actions—one I’m still trying to wrap my own head around—when she brings her hand up to cover a big yawn.
I glance at the clock on the stove. Ten p.m. She’s worked two jobs today and then sat in on our meeting and interviewed a dozen people. It’s a wonder she’s even standing.
“You’re beat. Why don’t you stay here tonight?”
Jane stares at me in surprise. We haven’t spent the night together before.
Not really. Last week when I’d brought over Chinese, we’d fallen asleep on her couch while watching TV.
When I woke up at five the next morning with a blanket draped over my body, I found my dry clothes folded on the coffee table in front of me and Jane still snuggled on the other side of the couch in her robe.
She’d woken up at some point, gotten my clothes for me, covered me up, and went back to sleep.
After getting dressed, I tucked the blanket around her and watched as she brought it up to her nose and inhaled deeply.
A contented smile spread over her face as she tucked the corner beneath her head and continued to sleep.
I’d liked that she’d sought out my scent, and I left her apartment that morning a satisfied man for more reasons than just sexual satiation.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her teeth toying with the corner of her lip. “I am pretty beat, but I can totally drive home if it’s an imposition.”
I give her a small grin. “If it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Right, okay, I’m sorry.” She chuckles nervously, and I wonder if it’s the idea of spending the night at my house, or spending it with me that’s making her apprehensive. “Then if you’ll point me in the direction of the couch, I’ll promptly pass out and leave you to whatever it is you do.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening. Come on.” I grab her hand again and lead her through the house.
Romeo bounds up the stairs ahead of us, tail held high in excitement that it’s finally bedtime.
Not quite yet, buddy. I pull Jane into my master bedroom and shut the door behind us so we won’t hear the commotion of the guys when they finally leave.
I take the messenger bag from her shoulder and set it off to the side, along with her notebook.
“Get undressed,” I tell her, “then join me in the bathroom.” I’d rather undress her myself, but if I do, I know I won’t be able to stop myself from taking her up against the wall, and that’s not why I brought her up here.
I’ve never had a woman in my house before, since I bought it after my ex, Sandra, and I split up.
This is my sanctuary, and I’ve never had the desire to taint it with a parade of random ass.
But Jane’s different. Despite the fact we started out as fuck buddies, things have somehow shifted.
Late at night, when I’m lying in bed and thinking about her, I tell myself that it happened because she’s the only one I’m fucking so it’s natural to feel some sense of commitment.
But even I recognize that for the bullshit that it is.
Jane is different because she’s Jane. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever dated—especially Sandra—and I’d have to be dead not to get attached to her.
Running the water in the huge, custom-made, claw-foot tub, I dump in a couple of cups of the powdered mixture of lavender milk that I make myself.
It’s relaxing and keeps my skin soft and smooth so that I don’t have to use lotions.
Go ahead and call me a fucking girl, or tell me I have a vagina for taking milk baths, but my day job wreaks havoc on my skin, and I have an aversion to rubbing greasy shit on my body.
I have to make sure I’m supremely touchable for the stripping gigs, and I found this alternative regimen that works for me. So, suck it.
“Chance?”