I look around the room and spot a beautiful woman with auburn hair toward the back. “Be right back.”
I’ve returned with the dancer in tow less than a minute later. I kick back in my chair to watch the show as she approaches Drew.
Tawny—that’s the name she gave me—trails her fingers over his shoulder. “Well, hello there, handsome. Your friend here says you’d like a dance.”
His mouth tips up in the corner. “Oh, I’d love a dance, honey.” He’s speaking to her—I think—but his eyes haven’t left mine once. In fact, he hasn’t stopped watching me since we sat down, come to think of it. It’s as if all of the naked boobs in the room suddenly disappeared.
Tawny begins her routine, rolling her supple body against him, wrapping her arm around the back of his neck. She removes her top and presses her huge breasts into his face, right before doing that bend-and-snap thing strippers are so good at. The entire time her body sensually glides against his, Drew’s gaze never strays from mine. Not for a second. And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t turn me on. Immensely. My panties are so fucking wet right now, they could probably moonlight as a Slip-n-Slide. When our three minutes are up, Tawny stands, takes the tip I offer, and saunters away.
I tilt my head to the side. “Was Tawny not your type?”
He takes a long pull from his beer. “Why do you ask that?”
“You just didn’t seem that into it.”
His gaze transforms into a smolder. An actual fucking smolder, people!
“Yeah...funny thing about that. Apparently, strippers just don’t do it for me like they used to, although I didn’t realize that until a few minutes ago. Must be this woman that I’m
interested in. Haven’t been able to get her off my mind for months.”
I lift a brow. “Oh yeah? Do I know this lucky lady?”
“I think you know her very well, Charlee.”
“Oh my God, it’s not my nonna, is it?” I widen my eyes in horror for effect.
He chuckles. “No, definitely not your grandmother.” He shudders. “And I’d really like to forget that ever happened, thank you very much.”
Now I laugh. Drew was going to be alone last Christmas so my mother had insisted he join us for dinner. My grandma may be eighty-eight, but she’s about as perverted as they come, and sees no point in hiding it. She hit on poor Drew the entire evening. I think she even asked him if he was into spanking at one point.
“Hmmm...” I tap my lips. “I wonder who it can be.”
He nods toward the exit. “Why don’t we get out of here and maybe I’ll tell you later?”
“Nuh uh. I’m not leaving until I get my lap dance. It’s not a true evening in Vegas unless you’re covered in stripper glitter.” I give him a shooing gesture. “Now, go do your job and find me a hot piece of ass.” I hold up my empty glass. “And a refill.”
He winks. “Sure thing, honey.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DREW
I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming. I mean, seriously, how could this be real? Do you remember that movie where those two nerdy guys couldn’t get a chick so they made the perfect chick using their computer? Well, it feels like that, minus the inability to get a date. If someone asked me to make a list of everything I wanted in a woman, Charlee would tick off every single box. She’s bold, witty, gorgeous, and really fucking fun to hang out with. Plus as I mentioned before, the girl can give Rachael Ray a run for her money any day.
I’m seriously worried I might cream my pants right now. When Charlee said she wanted a lap dance, at first I thought she was just being a good sport about the whole thing. But as I sit here watching some hot naked chick grind on top of an even hotter I want to get naked chick, it’s obvious this isn’t her first rodeo. There’s always that awkward moment of “Where do I put my damn hands?” when you pop your lap dance cherry, and that’s nowhere in sight. Charlee is so at ease, she’s smiling and chatting with the dancer like they’re besties or some shit.
The more I get to know Charlotte Harris, the more I want to know. I want to learn every goddamn thing there is to know about her, and that’s never happened to me before. It’s not that I haven’t had girlfriends in the past—I have—but I’ve never, ever been so taken by a girl that I can actually picture being with her years from now. Like fifty fucking years from now. How can it possibly be fair that she’s the only woman to ever make me feel this way, yet she’s the one forbidden fruit that I can never have?
As the stripper, whose name I’ve already forgotten, finishes her dance, Charlee crosses her smooth, shapely legs and sips her vodka tonic. “So, Drew, what should we do now?”
How about throwing those legs over my shoulder so I can taste your sweet pussy?
She nudges my shin with her sequined flip flop. “Drew?”
“Huh?”
Charlee laughs. “I asked what you think we should do now. You still want to get out of here? I could really go for some In-N-Out.”