desperate, I wasn’t that kind of girl.
“Not interested,” I said, looking around for my clothes. I was going to take my money, drink as much free alcohol as I could get, and go home to set this outfit on fire.
“You didn’t even hear the best part. Guy’s offering five grand,” he said.
I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned. Five thousand dollars?
“Club splits it fifty-fifty,” he said. “Not so bad, right? No touching. There’s a security button in the room and a bouncer right outside the door. He pre-paid.”
Twenty-five hundred dollars cash. On top of whatever I won tonight? That would cover the rest of the month. That would earn me two, maybe even three days off. I could buy the rest of the goddamn drywall and have those shots.
All I had to do was sell my soul to the perverted devil waiting in the VIP room.
I wanted to cry.
“It’s only three minutes and twelve seconds,” Vance said. “He picked the song.”
“Twenty-five hundred?” I repeated.
He nodded. “Cash. Tonight. On top of those tips, and you’re definitely placing in the Top 3. Some poor geology major cutie pie just fell offa the stage out there. So I’d say Top 2.”
My sigh was so heavy it moved the wispy strands of hair on his forehead.
Five grand. Five grand. Five grand. It wasn’t even a choice at this point.
“Yeah. Okay,” I said, swallowing hard. “But if I see a dick, I’m breaking his face.”
He crooked his fingers for me to follow him. “You see a dick, sweetheart, you hit that security button and let Chauncey break his face for you.”
I nodded rather than answering because I was two seconds away from barfing.
“Oh, hey,” Vance said, stopping outside a red leather paneled door. “You want any special lights on in there? I can do disco ball, strobe. We got this pretty pink filter that makes everyone look ten years younger.”
“Dark,” I said grimly. “Make it as dark as possible.”
“You got it, sweetie. And remember, he gets inappropriate, you push that button or just yell. The walls are thin.”
Three minutes twelve seconds. Three minutes twelve seconds.
Vance fiddled with the lights and gave me a cheery thumbs-up.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.
Into hell.
Into Dominic Russo’s personal ring of hell.
Humiliation burned my cheeks. Rage replaced the nausea.
He’d gone too far. Too damn far. My desperation wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t just playful teasing. Coming here to witness my damnation was cruel.
“What. The. Fuck, Dominic?”
“I paid for the dance.” His voice was gruff and low.
I stalked toward him, ready to rearrange his face. I was going to take my half of his five grand and shove it down his throat until he choked on it.
And then I saw it. His face was hard, as always. That beautiful jaw in its perma-clench under the unfairly sexy five o’clock shadow. But it was his eyes that stopped me. They weren’t cold. They weren’t mocking. They were fiery. Fierce. Hungry.
Had he finally snapped? Had I won?
I stopped a foot from him.
His intake of breath was audible.
I forgot about the money. The shame dissolved. I was here for one reason. To make Dominic Russo regret this night more than I did.
“No touching,” I snapped.
“Do what I paid you to do,” he demanded, his voice had a gravelly abrasion to it that gave me as much pleasure as dread. Even in the dim light, I could see he was hard. It was worse now that I knew what his cock looked like.
The music started, and I frowned when I recognized the song. It was a number from the dance studio. I wanted to ask him how he knew. But he flashed me that hard, smug look, and I made it my mission to wipe that expression off his perfect face.
I placed my palms on his thighs and thrilled when he stiffened at my touch.
“You said no touching,” he rasped.
“You can’t touch me.” I sank between his knees, spreading my own wide. I used his legs for balance, for contact, to inflict misery. His jaw was so tense I hoped he’d need a dental appointment next week. I skimmed my hands higher, bouncing, twisting, gyrating. Grinding.
If he wanted a dance, I’d give him one he’d remember for the rest of his life. We both could remember the night I sold my soul with shame.
The music built.
I rose, snapping my hips back and bending forward into his space. My hair hung in a short curtain over one eye. I could feel