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I tipped my head. “Handprint, teach,” I reminded him.
He blinked. “I…huh, what?” His confusion and slacked mouth almost made me smile.
Almost.
“Who slapped your ass, Caleb?”
“Oh, uh…me.”
“Sorry I missed it.” I walked into the living room.
“Holy shit. You’re…um. Those. Well.” He dragged his fingers through his hair and grabbed the back of his neck. “Warn a guy, would you?”
This time, I did grin. “My last client cancelled, and I had some time on my hands.”
He crossed the room to me and reached down to cup my ass. “I hope more of your clients cancel. Daily.”
“Not so great for the budget, buddy.”
“Right.” He blew out a breath and lowered his head to hover his lips over mine. “I don’t really care right now.”
I lifted a finger to his lips to stop him. “You need to go sit down, Mr. Beck.”
Swallowing hard, he didn’t move. His gaze stayed on my mouth. I knew he liked when I wore red lipstick.
I tried again. “Mr. Beck?” I twirled a loose lock of hair that framed my face. “I have a little treat for you.”
He cleared his throat. “Is that right?”
I licked the little divot of my top lip. “Yes.” I let the strand of hair go, and then I trailed my finger down the buttons of his gray dress shirt to his buckle. He firmed and grew under his zipper. “Oh, Mr. Beck. That looks painful.”
“I’m going to hell.”
I pressed my lips together against a smile. I drew a wide circle around his very stiff cock. “Can I do something to help?” I lifted my gaze to meet his and bit my lip.
“Yes, you can show me what you’ve got under that very, very short skirt, Miss Hastings.”
I dragged the back of my knuckle over the outline of his shaft. “And that will help?”
“It can’t fucking hurt any more than I am right now.”
I nearly broke at his guttural tone. We’d just see about that.
Quickly, I twirled so the short skirt flipped up, creating a small breeze. And boy, did I need it. I hadn’t expected to get turned on by my own show. “I’m a little embarrassed.” I backed up until my ass bumped into his hard-on. I swayed back and forth, the short plaid skirt sliding higher and higher with each wiggle.
His fingers dug into my bare thighs with a groan. “Why are you embarrassed, Miss Hastings?”
I stepped forward. “They’re not very sexy panties.” I bent at the waist and revealed the plain white cotton thong. “See?”
“Holy hell.”
I stood up and swiped the skirt back down. “See? Not sexy at all.” He tried to reach for me, but I twirled away. Thank the goddess I’d practiced with the sky-high Mary Jane heels since the last time I’d tried this.
I slowly walked to the pole as the song changed from the sweeter pop song to “Stockholm Syndrome” from One Direction. The memory from when I’d first met Caleb made me put an extra twitch in my hips.
“Maybe I can make it up to you.” Slowly, I walked around the pole. I’d been teaching pole dancing classes in Rylee’s yoga studio, the low impact kind that anyone could do. “I’ve been practicing something for you.” I lightly undulated against the pole before I slid toward the floor and widened my stance, only to shyly tuck the skirt between my legs. “If that’s okay, Mr. Beck?”
“I would love to watch you dance.” He took a quick breath and settled himself into the chair I’d set out for him. “If it’s safe.”
