Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

Time passes without my even realizing it as I dance, making eyes at the audience before swaying into my next move.

Fifteen minutes. Two extended-version songs with a short break that isn’t silent but gives me a chance to catch my breath, work the crowd, and reposition on the stage.

The second song’s the challenge, the pole routine that has me working my body hard. The stage lighting lowers to a deep red as I do my final tricks, glad that my new pole class has at least given me plenty of practice time to perfect my new favorites.

Of course, whatever new thing I’m doing is always my favorite. I climb up high, locking my left leg on the pole and arching my back. Lifting my right leg behind me, I arabesque and let the spin ensure everyone’s eyes are on me.

Stopping the slow turn, I arch even further, reaching back to grab my right foot and lift it even higher behind me, the arabesque becoming a vertical split known as the Eagle. I hold the pose, feeling the stretch in my legs as there’s a round of applause.

Without warning, I release and let my leg and head fall simultaneously, giving the impression that I’m out of control, but it’s a planned part of my choreography to get upside down on the pole.

I switch positions, letting my legs free to spread wide as my right elbow locks around the chrome, my left elbow goes around my leg, and I clasp my hands for support.

It’s a yoga pose called Bird of Paradise that’s been adapted for the pole, and it’s the perfect complement to my sexy ballet-inspired set. I hold the position, letting the slow spin show off the lines of my legs before I gain momentum, doing a fast flip so I’m upright once again, my legs on one side of the pole as I bicycle along on invisible pedals, getting closer to the floor with every rotation around the pole.

Finally, I touch down on pointed feet, and I flip my dark curtain of hair, resting back on the pole as I lower to the floor to gather the piles of bills.

My outro music plays as I crawl along, smiling and flirting with the people at the rail.

In this moment, I feel accomplished. I’m successful at the studio, the classes are going phenomenally well, even better than Donna and I had thought, and the feature here is an obvious hit.

But as I reach the edge of the curtain and look back, I feel fucking empty. I didn’t dance for the money in my hand, though my bills will appreciate it. I danced for another reason, one I’m only willing to admit to myself. The thought triggers me to look up to the windows, something I’d purposefully avoided doing during the routine. But I can’t help it now.

To my surprise, the windows are not all blacked out. Instead, on the far left, there’s one transparent window, framing Dominick as he stands tall and proud, stoically watching me.

Our eyes meet, gasoline on the fire inside me, but I’m not sure if it’s anger or want. Seeing him so close, but so far, brings back the times we both knew what we wanted but stayed away.

It seems pointless and stupid that we wasted so much time then. But what am I doing now? Am I making a stand, protecting myself from the fallout of a life where he takes my wild freedom and I allow him to put me in a cage?

Or am I wasting time, time I could be with him?

I can see it in his eyes, feel him holding back from me even across the rowdy space between us. Finally, he lifts his whiskey in salute and swallows the whole shot in one go, then turns away.

An instant later, the window is black.

Chapter 23

Dominick

I hadn’t even pretended that I wasn’t going to watch, didn’t lie to myself that way.

I’ve been starving, desperate for even a hint of her, a whisper of her scent, her passion, her fire. It’s worn me down and nearly broken me.

But tonight, I am going to feed the dark part inside of me that wants her, needs her, owns her. She struts the stage, made up in sultry paint and red lingerie that her natural beauty doesn’t need, and I know she did that for one reason only.

To fight me.

To show me that she can be whoever she pleases.

But it pleases me too.

I want her to embrace every facet of her personality . . . the sweet and the sultry, the submissive and the sassy, the bold and the brash, and the bared and the buttoned-up.

I don’t want a two-dimensional figure, a shadow of a woman. I want her to explore every interest she has. I just want her to explore them with me.