Love the Way You Lie (Stripped 1)

Ivan just looks curious, as if I were an animal performing some mating act he finds faintly distasteful. “If you suck me off, what then? You’ll walk out that door, and I’ll lose one of my best dancers.”

I flinch, unable to deny the truth.

If he let me go now, I’d be gone. On the run, again and always. But if Ivan has figured that out, then he won’t let me go. My stomach turns over.

He smiles. “I want something far more valuable than a blowjob, Honor. I want you. Here. And under my control. So don’t bother running. I’d only find you. Unless the person you’re running from finds you first.”

I stand to leave. I’d have run if I needed to. I’d have fought if he made me. But he leans back in his chair, apparently content to let me go for now. I hurry to the door.

“Oh, and Honey?”

I pause, feeling small. He knows. He likes it that way.

“Kip and I go way back. Let’s just say, he’s not someone you want to fuck with.”

Oh, and you are? I just nod briefly—a jerk of my head. Acknowledging the truth of it.

“Stay away from him,” he says. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order.

Chapter Four

I imagine myself on a bus heading somewhere far away. Except if I leave, I know Ivan will find me. And in the process, he’ll kick over every rock until everyone knows where to find me. I’m trapped just as surely as when I left. Unless I stay here and keep my head down, earn more money, stay safe another few days…and maybe find out what happened to my mother. Doesn’t she deserve justice? Doesn’t she deserve peace?

Clara deserves it, that’s for sure. Finding those jewels means peace. It’s a long shot, but so is staying alive. Survival is a long shot when you have dangerous men hunting you. And dangerous men ordering you around.

Ivan ordered me to stay away from Kip, but somehow I’m standing here in front of the velvet curtain. I’m wearing full gear tonight for the floor. That means a lacy black bra and panties, just begging to be ripped off in front of some panting guy, in the dark recesses of a VIP room. I feel shaky, like I might throw up. It’s not stage fright. It’s the opposite. I can dance in front of a roomful of men. But the thought of being enclosed with this one is making my heart pound.

I glance back, but Blue is busy with some guy who got too up close and personal with Lola. I could wait for him to be finished and then tell him Ivan won’t let me see this guy. Blue isn’t about to disobey an order like that. But on some level I don’t want Blue to step in. I don’t want to listen to Ivan.

I want to go inside.

My palms grow hot. I know he’ll be sprawled on the chair, one long leg kicked out, the other tucked back. I know he’ll be wearing the scuffed boots and leather jacket. I know exactly how he’ll smell—like musk and danger, like salt and spice.

When I slip past the curtain, a slow grin spreads across his face. It looks like a smile I’d see when I open the door for a date, both appreciative and a little surprised. It should be out of place in the dark, dank VIP room, but my heart flutters anyway.

Damn it. I’m determined to make this time different.

“Hey, sugar,” I say in a voice so smooth and practiced it is clearly false. “I’m glad to see you.”

He doesn’t need to know that I actually am glad to see him again. Or that I find him sexy.

His smile fades a little. Apparently the seductress play isn’t what he’s expecting. Last time I’d been bumbling and awkward and, worst of all, real. I won’t make that mistake twice.

He studies me like I’m a puzzle. I’m the simplest thing you’ll ever see, I want to tell him. I’m afraid. But I smile instead. It’s not a big smile, not real, but it’s pretty. I know exactly what it looks like in the mirror, with my makeup on. I give it to him the same way I give him my time and my body—by the hour.

“What’ll it be tonight, sugar?” I ask.

A little crease forms between his eyebrows. My fingers twitch. I want to smooth it away. And then I’d keep going, running my fingertip over those thick eyebrows, trailing my hand down his bristly cheek. I shave and pluck the hairs on my body, leaving my skin smooth. But he has all his hair—he’s covered in the stuff. It looks both soft and coarse, both attractive and forbidding.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks quietly.

This was what I’d been afraid of. Niceness. Curiosity. It’s not good, coming from a customer. It’s not good coming from anyone. “We’re talking right now, sugar.”

“Come here.” He pulls his leg even, making it clear he wants me on his lap. I remember that lap, his thighs strong and warm and thick under me. I had an orgasm on that lap.

I can’t risk it. So I slide to the floor instead, glancing up at him with a seductive smile. My breasts sway as I crawl toward him in the small space. I move like a cat, rubbing against him before flicking my ass. His gaze roams my body, hovering on each part, unable to choose a place to land. He likes my breasts and my belly, my ass and my legs.

Then he looks back at my face, locking his eyes on mine. “I said come here.”