Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

Her foot bounces, and I notice that she’s wearing short-heeled boots, cute and nothing at all like what she wears on stage. She’s anxious, and the rare sign of her nerves thrills me. Not that I want her to be uncomfortable around me. In fact, I want the exact opposite, but her jitters show that I have some effect on her, and it warms my icy heart.

Her full lips spread wide, but it’s merely a polite smile, not reaching her eyes, which seem clouded with uncertainty.

“Thanks for seeing me. I, uh . . . I need to talk to you about my other job.”

“I would love to see you anytime you’d like, Allison,” I tell her with utter sincerity. It’s refreshing, and I relish the luxury. “And please, tell me about the dance classes. I have been interested, and I’ll admit, hoping that you have been successful. I’m proud of your courage in trying to expand your horizons.”

The words are a rare honesty for me, no game or strategy, no ulterior motive, just truth. I would do anything for this woman, and she barely acknowledges my existence beyond my ownership of the club and a few longing looks, although the longing part may be just me. She is wholly unaware that she owns my heart, whatever there may be left of it.

She squirms in her seat, the leather creaking mellowly beneath her, and an impulsive bit of jealousy hits me that the chair gets to cup her ass the way I want to when I have to refrain.

“Oh, well . . . thank you,” she says, blushing a little. “It’s been going really well. In fact, I wanted to let you know that things have changed there. I know we originally talked about my teaching a couple of classes a week, and it’s really grown a lot over the past few months. But one of the private party classes I did has taken on a life of it’s own, and I feel like I need to give it a real shot. That means more nights there, more private classes, and I’m going to set up one of the studios to teach pole fitness classes.”

Her words are one long run-on sentence, and at the end, she smiles like saying them aloud somehow makes her plans more real. I understand. Sometimes, reality is woven not from our thoughts but from our own speech which leads to the actions that make those words real.

Her excitement is infectious, bubbly, and light in the dark depths of my soul, an addicting brightness. I start to smile until a devastating thought occurs to me. I’m stricken, though I keep my voice coldly steady as my smile dims slightly.

“Are you giving notice? Do you want to stop dancing at Petals from Heaven, Allie?”

What I really mean is, ‘Are you leaving me?’ but I don’t voice that question aloud. I can’t say that anyway, because regardless of how I’ve claimed her in my mind and she’s claimed my heart by her silent actions, the words have never been spoken. The reality has never been forged.

Still, when she shakes her head, my heart resumes beating.

“No!” she says, gasping before blushing. “I mean, not exactly. But I was hoping we might be able to rearrange my schedule some? Let me just do feature appearances once or twice each week instead of multiple slots several nights per week? I’m hoping that if my performances are rarer, people will flock to them like a headliner act and I’ll still make enough money to supplement while I’m getting things off the ground at Encore.”

It’s an interesting idea, and I spin the family crest ring on my pinky finger, the one that denotes me as the head of the Angeline family, letting the idea turn, analyzing it from every angle as the silence stretches.

I normally wouldn’t, especially for a girl who’s just a dancer. Still, it’s Allie. The word just doesn’t apply to anything she does. She’s never just anything, especially to me.

Our eyes are locked on one another, the tension between us palpable, at least to me. I wonder if she knows that I can see the racing flutter of her heartbeat at her neck. She unconsciously licks her lips, drawing my attention to the flash of her pink tongue, making me want to nip at her with soft kisses before biting her fuller bottom lip, leaving that sharp mark of possession I’ve dreamed of for months.

I let a victorious smirk take my face, and I decide on the best course of action. Though it does probably give me more benefits than she gets, it’s not unfair by any means, and I do think she’ll be agreeable to my terms.

Leaning forward, I clasp my hands between my legs, letting my elbows rest on my knees and closing the distance between us to so close that I could, if I wanted, pull her in to taste her forbidden sweetness.