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“Is it your…I’m not sure how to put this…” She glances away.
“You’re not going to offend me, I promise,” I encourage.
“Is this what you plan to do with the rest of your life? Manage a…manage Crystal Ball?”
Interesting question. I haven’t given it a lot of thought. “If that’s what my club needs me to do.”
Do I see myself doing this for the next however many years? The truth, painful as it may be, is that I haven’t given a fuck about my future since my wife died.Earn money for the club. Ride the wind. Do whatever my club needs.Those are goals I’ve had for years now.
With Emily, I visualize something beyond tomorrow.
“I like what I do,” I finally answer. “And I’m good at it. It brings money into the MC.” More like we launder moneythroughCrystal Ball but that’s not a sentence I’d utter outside of the war room.
She tilts her head slightly and nods. Is that a hint of disappointment turning the corners of her mouth down or am I reading too much into it?
Would having her see what I actually do on a nightly basis help or hurt us? “I meant what I said. You can visit me there. Whenever you want.”
A hint of playfulness returns to her face. Amusement in her eyes. A sly tilt to her lips. “What does a woman wear to visit her boyfriend at a strip club?”
“My woman?” I sweep my gaze over her. “Clothes. Lots of clothes.” I curl my hand behind her neck and drag my thumb over her throat. “Turtleneck.”
Whatever remaining doubts she had seem to melt. “Just a turtleneck? No pants?”
“Come here.” I slip my hand from her neck to her waist and tug her into my lap. “One leg here.” I pat the outside of my thigh. She gets the hint quickly, straddling my lap and resting her butt on my knees.
“You like me like this, huh?” She settles her hands on my shoulders.
“I like to see your face.” I run my hands over her thighs up to her hips. “I like the weight of you against me. The best part of my day was starting it with you.”
Holy shit.Now that she’s unlocked these feelings, I can’t seem to stop them from pouring out of my mouth.
Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind. “I think we can end the day even better.”
“I’d like that.”
“Will you stay again tonight?”
She’d need a shotgun to pry me out of the house.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Emily
Dex’sheavy-lidded stare washes over me like a spotlight, illuminating parts of me I’d rather keep hidden.
“Lift your arms,” he whispers, tugging at the bottom of my shirt.
As if he’s about to steal something more valuable than my wallet, I slowly raise my hands in the air. He neatly peels off my shirt, skimming his thumbs over my ribs, tickling my skin. Instead of laughing, I shiver. He tosses my shirt over the arm of the couch.
My gaze bounces around the long living room. The heavy drapes and shades cover the windows, but I can’t help feeling exposed.
“Eyes on me.” Dex taps the tip of my nose to recapture my attention. “No one can see us.” Even so, he shifts his body to the right, reaching for the lamp and clicks it off.
Most of the outlets in the house have a small built-in night-light that provides a soft glow. Enough to see each other and the shapes of everything around us. Except for the bedrooms, the house is never truly dark.
I can’t stand complete darkness.
“Emily.” His low, serious tone pulls me out of my morbid thoughts. “Where are you?”
