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For now, at least.
He’s got to be just as stressed as I am, but for the first time in a few days, he doesn’t look it. I don’t know how. We’ve all spent every waking hour since Sienna dropped the bomb on us about Austin’s plans, working to make the most of this information… and it feels like we’re stuck on step one. Namely, we’re still trying to dig up evidence that Austin is planning to move against The Six, while also fending off his attacks and fortifying our position as he continues to fuck with us.
Logan’s been mapping out all the spots Austin’s been attacking so far, and just like Maddoc predicted, most of them are on the edges of Reaper territory, but he’s also started going after a few of the gangs who’ve allied with us now too. We’ve been tracking anywhere and everywhere that West Point gang members or his mercenaries show up around the city, trying to spot patterns, and so far, nothing useful has come of it. Certainly nothing that we can bring in front of The Six.
Dante pulls my fingers away from my right breast, letting his thumb brush over the bright red of my new tattoo. “Itchy?”
“Not too bad.”
“You should get your mind off it.”
My breath quickens. We’ve all been so damn busy that I haven’t been with any of my men the way I’m craving them for the last few days. At least, not enough to satisfy any of us. But if Dante thinks we have time…
He laughs, low and sexy, and laces our fingers while taking a step backward, toward the door. “Come on. That’s not what I meant this time.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’ve got something to show you,” he says, pulling me out into the hallway and heading for the stairs.
“Is it safe?” I ask, my breath stuttering for a different reason this time. One I fucking hate. “The last attack—”
“Has been fucking dealt with,” he says firmly, cutting me off. Then he blows out a gusty breath and pushes me up against the wall, kissing me deep enough that I manage to stop worrying about it for a moment. “Quit thinking about that shit for a little while, okay?” he murmurs once he finally lets me come up for air. “I’m taking you somewhere safe. We’re not even leaving the house. I just want you to come down to the basement with me.”
The guys all work out religiously in the gym they’ve got set up there, but I haven’t spent much time down there even though I admit it’s a great way to blow off steam. Just not my favorite way.
“Please tell me we’re not doing laundry right now,” I tease him, pretty sure that’s the only other thing they use the basement for outside of the kind of gang business that they’ve kept me out of so far.
“No laundry,” he says, leading me down to the gym. He slides his hands down my hips, pressing himself against my back as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “You might be a little overdressed, though.”
“Feel free to help me with that problem,” I joke-but-not-really, not even noticing that he’s using his grip on my hips to steer me around until I’m facing the far corner. Then I blink as I realize why I’m overdressed.
There’s a stripper pole in the corner.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out, a visceral thrill rolling through my body, a sense memory of something I haven’t even let myself acknowledge I’ve been missing. “Where did that come from?”
“I had it installed for you,” Dante murmurs, letting me go without a fight when I move toward it. “You know I deal with my shit by painting, and I fucking love having you up in my studio, sharing that. But it’s not really your thing, is it? You need to dance.”
“I’ve missed it,” I admit, running my hands up the pole and feeling it like a stroke on my own body.
“I know,” Dante says, his voice full of all the emotions that give me something to fight for. “And I want you to be able to dance anytime you want it. Anytime you fucking need it. Right here at home.”
I don’t know if it’s hearing him calling this my home, which it is,heis, or if it’s how touched I am that he thought to do this for me. That he understands me so well. Whatever it is, he’s right. I do need this, it’s how I’ve always worked out my emotions, and right now, I’m full of them.
I kick my shoes off and wrap a leg around the pole, letting my body weight pull me around it in a move that feels so familiar, so fucking right, that it’s crazy to think I haven’t danced in so long.
Well, it feelsalmostright. It’s easier to dance with skin to the pole, so after trying out a few moves and shaking off the rust, I strip down to my bra and thong, then keep going.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Dante murmurs from somewhere behind me, breaking through the trance I’ve let myself fall into as I work my body around the pole.
It’s the perfect amount of slick, and sturdy enough to take all my weight without shaking, and when I twist around it, turning my body so I can face him, a hot thrill goes through me at the heat I find waiting in his gaze.
I slide one hand up the pole until my arm is at its full extension, then let myself slowly undulate around the metal as it starts to warm a little from the heat of my body. “This reminds me of the first time I saw you.”
“You remember that?” Dante asks, his voice dropping low and husky in a way I can never help but respond to. “Because I do.”
“I remember the feel of your eyes on me that night.” I let myself turn around the pole again, dropping low and feeling a delicious burn in my thighs as I slowly work myself back up it. I twist to look back at him over my shoulder. “It felt just like this.”
There isn’t any music, but somehow, it feels like there’s a rhythm moving through my body anyway.
