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None of this is personal. Itcan’tbe personal. Any desire I feel is because my brain knows what we need for the case, and right now I need him. No more, no less. It doesn’t stop the swell of lust rising up in his wake.
I finish the last shot and leave his untouched, the liquor burning my throat and my lips going numb in the best way.
I lean back against the bar and watch the place fill up. Most of the clients keep to the shadows but there are those brazen enough to fuck right out there in the open. Not on the stage in the public light but on the benches, the chaise longues. Doors open and close to private rooms and people in all manner of dress or undress flit around. Most of them look part of the shadows themselves. The women are hard, too skinny, dead-eyed. Most of the men are too. Then there are those large-and-in-charge gentlemen who are content to sit and pay someone to work them without expending any effort.
None of them in the same league as Blackwell. Not in looks, in presence, in prowess. None of it. They can’t compare.
It kills me to admit that I’ve been wet since I got in the SUV with him tonight.
But I’m not used to being on my knees for anyone, any trust or willingness to do so died when my mom took her life. When my dad turned to alcohol and emotional abuse.
Will I even be able to perform?
Everyone around us continues to go about their business and I can’t focus on a single one of them. The noise of the crowd becomes one roaring beast and my ears are filled with static. My body might want Gabriel, but things can go south really quick if stage fright and very real terror decide to take the reins.
Gabriel is back at my elbow a moment later. “I talked to the owner. We’re up next, doll. Told them I had a desperate need tonight and a fucking sexy partner.”
I inhale, bowing my head to Gabriel slightly.Shut it all down.
“Walk toward the stage. I’ll meet you up there. You’ve got this,” he whispers, and a chill skitters along my spine. My breasts tighten and my core drips.
I obey. Even this is a fight, making me feel weak. As if I’m giving away a part of myself. I refuse to look behind me and I’m not sure where Gabriel goes but I make it to the stairs. Up one, then two, three. Onto the stage itself.
A scream builds inside of me, the loss of too many things in my life growing until it’s too big for me to contain inside. If I let it escape, if I start wailing like a banshee, then our charade tonight is over before it begins.
I counted to 100, Dad. I counted to 100.
My inner voice echoes in my ears with the force of a raging tornado. A red light blips through the main floor of the lounge and when I look down at my hands, they’re covered in blood. Blood. Daddy’s blood is all I can see. Another scream builds in my throat and black dots dance in my vision. My chest is tight to the point where I don't know where I am. Hands shaking, I turn in a circle.
And then suddenly they’re steady.
Gabriel has them. Has me.
I take a step back and he catches me by both arms, holding me in front of him, with his green eyes giving nothing away outside of his confidence. It has to be enough. Knowing his control is in check when mine is not.
His mouth covers mine in a kiss of possession and then I’m not sure of anything anymore. He tastes of midnight and sin.
“You don’t get on your knees for anyone, Layla,” Gabriel murmurs against my mouth. “But you will for me. And you’ll like it.”
A thrumming pulse goes through me and a small part of me relaxes.
His fingers dig into my arms and I tilt my head back for a better angle, better access to him.
There’s no backing out of this now. Not that there had been a good moment to do so.
This is the strangest bargain I’ve ever made in my life, and considering stopping it just feels flimsy at this point. Not when there is very real heat between us, and a very real desire to keep the contact and to memorize his taste.
Are we taking advantage of each other?
Does it matter if we are?
His kiss sears through me, through muscle and bone all the way down to my soul, the dark and shriveled energy at the center of me. His arm bands around my back and hauls me closer to him until he is my world, and he’s consuming me.
I shut it all off and close my eyes, my chest fluttering.
Going through with this is my choice. As uncomfortable as it is, it’s all my choice.
Kissing me, he leads me further onto the stage, toward the chair. He drags his fingers along my arms and down to my ribs, my lower abdomen.
