TYLER: Couple days, tops. Shop is backed up.
I groan and set the phone down on my lap. That’s been Tyler’s response every other time I’ve texted him in the last week. A couple more days of misery with strangers dropping me offat the club isn’t ideal for someone like me. It’s not like I’m ashamed, more like I have to wrap myself up tight so my goodies don’t spill out while I’m in the car. And with it being frigid as fuck outside, I’m so warm in the car that I’m sweating by the time I get inside.
It sucks, but it isn’t like my car is dead. The bad newsisbad, yeah, but the great news is that Gray is a prodigy. He can now text, make a phone call, and run a quick Google search on a pre-loaded tab all on his own. It only took a couple of hours of serious focus to get it right, but he did it. By the time I left, he was already reading about World War II and Elvis Presley’s rise to fame.
The first one made sense, the second? Not so much.
The Zippy driver pulls up to String Theory and I direct him to pull around to the back where the girls go in. Tim, one of our bouncers, is standing under the little light beside the entrance smoking a cigarette when we roll up. I tip the driver and hurry over. The last time I was in the parking lot, I was alone in broad daylight. What I saw might have been a figment of my imagination, but I’m still not taking any chances. Halloween was already one too many close-calls for my liking.
“Hey Tim,” I say as I pass him.
“Hey Millie. Take some time off?” he asks, blowing out smoke.
“Just the one day,” I say with an easy smile. Tim is one of the few I feel pretty safe around. He doesn’t have the same intimidating air as some of the other guys, and he’s only a couple heads taller than me, but damn, does he pack a punch. I’ve seen him lay out guys much bigger than him before.
“Just the one, huh?” He raises a thick brow in question.
“I think I’ll forget how to twirl around a pole if I miss another night.”
His shoulders shake with an easy laugh. A few strands of red hair fall forward from his ponytail as his head sways from side to side. “Hell girl, I’ll never know how you all do it.”
“It’s easy, Tim. You just pretendeveryoneis in their underwear.” I wink and then head inside. The club isn’t open yet, so I make my way to Dax’s office first. I didn’t tell him I was coming back tonight, so I hurry along before anyone else sees me.
“Knock, knock.” I rap my knuckles on his door as I open it, peering in. His office has the same clear-cut, modern vibe as his apartment. Industrial with a touch of modern flare. “You in here?”
From his sleek black desk, Dax lifted his head, having been hunched over some papers. He rubs his eyes and sits back. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I was getting separation anxiety.” And, I also dropped a fat amount of cash on clothing, so my pockets are burning.
“From me”—he grins and crosses his arms—“or the club?”
I stride into his office with purpose and hold my head high. “Actually, I have it on good authority that a few of my regulars were asking for me, so I came in.”
Verity texted me earlier in the middle of my instruction to Gray, letting me know that a few of the guys missed me last night. She said they would come back the following night if I promised to show, and knowing I’m never one to turn down my regulars, she told them I would be there. I couldn’t be mad about it, not when they were offering double the tips they usually do. So, I scheduled my private dances with Trace at the bar, packed up my new pieces from the Black Box, and got my butt over to the club as quickly as I could. It wasn’t the original plan, but Gray seemed preoccupied enough that he didn’t need me. I left the address with him and headed out, feeling too much like amom leaving their unsupervised teenager home alone for the first time.
Besides, what kind of trouble could he really get himself into?Plenty, Millie, plenty.
“Do I count as one of your regulars?” Dax’s voice drops an octave as he stands and circles to the front of his desk. He looks great, per usual, and that cologne of his hits me like a hurricane. He always smells amazing, like fresh leather and shaving cream. I can feel my toes curl at the memory of his skin pressed against mine the other morning, and then the rest of what we did follows in quick succession.
A bead of sweat drips down my back. It’s suddenly too warm.
“In a way, yeah, you are.”
Dax pulls me close as he leans back against his desk. The bag in my hands drops to the floor with a thud as he hurries to shed my coat. His lips seal over mine, tongue searching along my lips until I open up to him. He eagerly draws my tongue to his, deepening the kiss as my leggings make it down past the seat of my butt. At first, it felt good. I mean, this isn’t anything new for us. I’ve been in his office plenty of times, bent over his desk, or kneeling between his legs, sometimes before a shift or after. During all of those moments, it never once crossed my mind that I should tell him to stop.
Until now, that is.
“Dax.” I pull away from him, but I’m sucked back into his embrace as he leaves kisses along my jaw. “Dax, wait.”
He doesn’t stop; humming his pleasure as he grips my ass.
“Dax, I’m serious. Stop.”
He pauses, pulling away with a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”
Million dollar question. I’m not even sure how to answer him, though, because all I’ve got is the thought of Gray’s kiss and how different it was from Dax’s. Different in a way that I likedit so much that kissing Dax feels underwhelming and bland. My insides sink at the realization. It could be hormones, or the lingering effects of Gray’s blood still, but the sensible side of me is in control—I know it isn’t either of those. Hot hook-ups and horniness aside, I can’t find reason enough to keep going on with Dax when all I want is the vampire shacked up at home.
Jesus, I’m a mess.
