Nodding, I place my mug down and slip from my chair, heading to the fridge. I open it and spot the water at the bottom, so I bend to grab one and freeze, realising I’m flashing the whole room, and I can feel eyes on me.
Dark, thrilling eyes.
Forbidden.
Straightening, I turn as I shut the fridge with my hip, but Tyler is gone. I watch his back as he retreats down the corridor while I stand there with the cool bottle of water.
Why do I care?
I shouldn’t, but I do.
Tyler
Two Weeks Later
I swear she’s been put here to torture me. I have a strong will, but Lexi? She tests it. Pushes it. Has me wanting to break all the rules and take what I want—her.
The worst part? She isn’t even trying.
Sitting across from her, I toss back my drink, trying to staunch the fire burning in my stomach and appease my hard cock, which is begging me to throw this board game from the table and fuck her across it instead. Justin is clueless. He was out about an hour ago, got bored, and sat outside, drinking while on his phone.
It’s just her and me.
Then she starts playing dirty. I could concede, give in, and walk away, keep things cool, but in the face of her mischievous, knowing, bratty smirk, I find myself going all-in.
Her bare foot catches on my leg under the table again, as if on purpose, and her eyes widen innocently as she moves her player. Narrowing my gaze on her in warning, I roll the dice and move before leaning back and watching her. She licks her lips, her eyes on the board, and I can’t help but want to groan. Those sweet pink glossy lips have me imagining all the dirty things I could do to them.
The shirt and shorts she’s wearing are casual and loose, yet on her, they look like fucking lingerie. I haven’t been this turned on since I was a goddamn teenager. Is it not bad enough I caught her fucking my son? That I stood there like a fucking statue, unable to move?
Watching her rolling, winding hips. Her incredible breasts bouncing as she took her pleasure, and when her eyes met mine and she didn’t stop…I swear she rooted me to the spot. My hand ached to grab her, bend her over that bed, and spank her arse red for teasing. For flaunting. She had to know I was there, that I heard and saw her.
And when she came?
Fuck.
That sound she made is branded into my brain. “Your turn,” she offers sweetly, that smile curling her lips again. She knows what she does to me.
And I hate myself just a bit because I love it. I love her bratty little attitude. She has the face of an angel and the soul of a sinner. Lexi is a dirty little brat wanting a firm hand and a hard cock. But that can’t be me, I remind myself as I roll and move.
I search desperately for a safe topic. “How is work?” I ask.
She sips her wine, crossing her legs innocuously. The top she wears gapes slightly, showing the crests of her full breasts. If she lifted her arms, I would see—
“It’s good. I’ve got a regular spot there now, but as the headliner so…” She shrugs, the shirt slipping down one shoulder to expose her tanned skin. My mouth aches with the need to dig my teeth into it while I slam into that sweet little pussy. My son is right there, through the doors, but I debate running my hand up her thigh and parting them. Would she be wet?
Would she scream for me?
“That’s good,” I rasp, before clearing my throat. “What’s the club’s name? I might have to come some time.”
She giggles, a blush staining her cheeks that has me grabbing onto the table edge. Fuck, she blushes so goddamn prettily. I bet it would flush her chest as well.
“Erm, I don’t think you would like it.” She tilts her head, those blue eyes lighting up naughtily.
“Why? Because I’m old?” I huff.
She winks. “Not at all, but… Well, frankly, Mr. Ph—”
“Tyler,” I interrupt, raising my eyebrow and daring her to call me Mr. anything again.
“Tyler,” she corrects, my name rolling from her tongue, caressing it. “It’s a burlesque club.”
I blink and freeze, my body turning rigid. I can’t stop my eyes from running across her again, imagining her in those little costumes while dancing across a stage. Fuck.
“Burlesque?” I manage to get out of a choked throat.
Fuck, that’s all I’m going to see now. Imagining her in lace and pearls, floating across in the spotlight while smirking at me. She laughs again. “Yep. Justin probably didn’t want me to say, but I’m not embarrassed.” She shrugs one shoulder and moves on the board. “It’s just another form of dance, of expression, just like ballet or tap.” She looks up then with defiance on her face, daring me to judge her. “They all use their bodies to express their emotions, but in burlesque, I get to be free and lay it all out on the stage, to flirt and tease that line. It empowers me. It’s not all about sex, it’s about power.”
I nod in understanding. I wasn’t judging, I was trying to stop myself from demanding she put on a show for me. “Of course, you sing as well? That’s very impressive, you must be quite the athlete.”
She tilts her head in confusion, and I carry on, “To dance and sing at the same time, that takes great strength.”
The smile is slow, but when it fills those lips, I suck in a wobbly breath. It punches me right in the chest, as if me understanding means everything to her. Does Justin not?
“That’s a very enlightened view to have. Many men get insecure.” She huffs.
“Justin?” I surmise, crossing that bridge. I shouldn’t ask, but I’m not backing out now. I trap her in my gaze, and she shifts, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at me.
“He didn’t mind at first…but yeah, he’s getting worse with it. Thinks I want to sell my body for money.” She glances down, her face angry. “They always do. They never see past the pasties and feathers to the art underneath, to the freedom it gives me.”
“Is that what you want, angel, freedom?” It slips out, I can’t help it. But I don’t take it back.
She jerks her head up, meeting my eyes, those pink lips parting temptingly. Swallowing, she nods. “Always. To be free and be who I want, to do what I want…who I want.” Her voice turns husky at the end.
Our eyes stay locked, and I’m unable to break it. I can’t look away, even though I should. Tension fills the air as her meaning sinks into my skin. Does Lexi want me the way I want her? Is that what she’s trying to say?
I open my mouth to ask, but the sliding door slams open and breaks the spell. “You ready, babe? I’m tired,” Justin calls, as he steps into the living room.
She clears her throat and gets to her feet. Winking at me, she moves again, and I gawk as she wins. “Gotcha,” she murmurs, and turns with a grin.
A laugh bursts out of me. No one has ever beat me. Not ever. But this little angel just did, an angel dreaming of freedom—something she won’t find in my son’s arms.
Something I wish she would find in mine.
I would let her soar and be free, if only she would be mine.
It’s in the little things. I have come to care for Lexi. It’s been months now. I honestly didn’t think they would last that long, but we spend more and more time together. We have movie and game nights, and we drink and talk. Justin always gets annoyed and calls it an evening first, leaving us alone. I learn her dreams, her hopes, her past.