But Zeke’s heated threat almost makes me want to run, just so he will chase me. Just so he can punish me.
I don’t run, though. Instead, I let the handsome man I found the second I walked into the bar order me a shot of tequila. We both take the shot. Then I stroke the stranger’s strong forearm, flash him a bright smile, and wink before sauntering off.
I felt Zeke’s gaze on me the entire time, but if he thinks flirting with a stranger at the bar is the sin I plan on committing against him tonight, he’s in for a surprise.
I strut across the room to the dance floor, making eye contact with a man dancing seductively with a woman.
My turn—my eyes and body say.
The man’s gaze finds me immediately. What can I say, I know how to attract men to me like a moth to a flame. I will burn every single man who thinks he has a claim to me.
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip and bat my eyelashes at him, then I wait. He will ditch his date for me.
And right on cue, he does. The woman yells and scowls at the man, but he isn’t listening anymore. I have him thoroughly under my spell.
“Dance with me,” he says.
I crook my finger under his chin. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”
I don’t introduce myself or ask for his name. This isn’t serious. This is about sex, even if we never get to the physical act. We will dance, and it will be as close to sex as you can get with your clothes still on.
I grab his neck, he grabs my hips, and then we are moving, grinding on each other through the thick crowd of people. We only need a second to learn each other’s style. And then we are effortlessly moving across the floor—our bodies dancing on top of each other. I push; he pulls. The sexual tension between us is palpable. If I had control over my life right now, we’d end up in the closest hotel room.
Instead, this is all I get.
I give the man everything I have while dancing with him. I don’t search to see if Zeke can see me. If he’s smart, he will pull out his phone and get buried in it, instead of watching me.
I know Zeke wants me, but for some reason, he isn’t going to touch me until he decides if he wants me more than he wants to sell me to Julian. I’m about to make that decision so much harder for him.
Suddenly, I feel like I have more eyes on me. The room has circled around me, and I know that Zeke is watching.
Good. I’m about to murder his heart.
The dance ends, and I pull the hot man I’m using flush to my body. Our mouths pant over each other, but I don’t kiss him. And I don’t let him kiss me.
The crowd claps and hollers, cheering us on—wanting another dance.
But I have a better idea to give them a full show.
While my dance partner inches closer to grabbing my ass, I look over his shoulders and find the DJ behind him.
I crook my finger at him, and he runs toward me.
“Can I use the mic, and can you play ‘Truth Hurts’ by Lizzo?” I ask.
“You can have whatever you want,” he says with a wink.
I look back to my dance partner. “Can you sing?”
He chuckles. “They don’t care if I sing. But I can show you off.”
“Good enough.”
The DJ returns with the microphone, and the song I requested starts.
My hot dance partner spins me around, and I start singing with him dancing around me.
As I sing, the room quiets. I’ve always been a good singer. I’ve sung numerous times in the shower or car, but never publicly. But I don’t doubt the power of my voice.
The man holds me in his arms, swinging our hips together as I belt out the song.
My eyes find Zeke’s. He’s sitting at a round table directly across from me. The crowd has parted, and Zeke has the perfect view of me. So I sing for him. I let him know he will never have me. I will never be his. And I can have any man in this room.
I up my game, teasing the man holding me and walking over and touching or rubbing against every other man in the room. But it’s not enough. I want my sin to hurt Zeke.
So I turn to my dance partner, rip off his shirt to the hoop and hollers of every female in the room. And then I kiss down his chest as I sing before rubbing my ass on his hard-on.
The song ends, and I’m covered in sweat and exhilaration. My dance partner leans down to kiss me, but I move at the last second, and his kiss falls to my shoulder. My eyes lock with Zeke.
I could let him kiss me, but I didn’t.
I could let him fuck me, but I won’t.
As long as you behave, this is as far as I will go. I’ll never make you imagine me with another man unless you give me reason to.
“Thank you for the dance,” I say to my partner before strutting over to Zeke.
Zeke watches me carefully and finishes his drink before waving the hot waitress over.
She smiles at him brightly while bending over so he can see down her blouse as she takes his order. But he doesn’t look; his gaze is still on me. And I can see the agitation in his eyes at having to watch me dance all over a shirtless man, and knowing that every man in the room wants me—I can choose any of them.
My sin worked; he’s pissed.
But then Zeke grabs the waitress and dips her over his lap. She laughs hysterically as he whispers something close to her lips. She nods enthusiastically at his words.
And then he leans down and kisses her, with his eyes still locked on mine. He asked if he could kiss her. So he is capable of asking a woman for permission before he takes what he wants. He just won’t do that with me.
I thought my flirting without crossing the line was a good sin. I was wrong—Zeke’s sin is better. He damaged me worse than I injured him, and it isn’t even his turn to sin. I don’t think I can handle what he will do when it is.
16
Zeke
The second my lips touch the waitress’s lips, I know it’s a mistake. I thought the kiss would hurt Siren, pay her back for all the flirting, dancing, and rubbing on that man she did. But the kiss feels wrong in every way.
I asked the waitress if I could kiss her before I did it. I’m not the kind of man who takes something from a woman without asking before. But Siren saw me ask—and she’s pissed. Because she thinks I would never ask before I took from her.
As my lips press against the waitress’s thin, pink lips, I feel awful. This kiss is good, simple, not too wet. When I shove my tongue between her lips, I taste the sweet wine she must be sipping between customers behind the bar. It’s pleasant and awful.
I’m not the kind of man who feels a rush of emotions with a kiss. I’ve never fallen hard for a woman I’ve been intimate with before. Never experienced that head over heels feeling for another woman. And I sure as hell don’t feel that now kissing Samantha—at least that’s what her name tag says. In fact, I feel the opposite. I feel regret, remorse, and stupidity.
I should not have kissed her.
I should not have taunted Siren.
I thought that I would pay her back for hurting me with her sin. But instead, my move backfired, and I ended up damaging myself more.
Siren’s face full of disappointment and anger is like a shock to the heart. I didn’t realize how much I cared about what Siren thought of me until now.
I thought the kiss would make me stop thinking about Siren. I would realize I just needed to get laid to forget about her. But the kiss made my obsession for Siren worse and did nothing to quell my desire for her. It just showed me how a kiss from any other woman isn’t enough.