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“Lean back,” I tell her as I move to hover over her.
Emma glances behind her at the wood desk, then slowly lowers her body until she’s prone. If I wasn’t already distracted by her, seeing her spread out on the desk has my brain working overtime to capture this moment. Her warm eyes on me, the innocent way she bites her lip. I will definitely be jerking off to the thought of Emma later, imagining what she tastes like, how soft her skin would be under my palm, how good it would feel to slide between her legs.
I try to pull my awareness away from her, to focus on the crowd, their excited cheers and screams. While Emma is getting a special dance, the crowd is here for the show, too. But I’m finding it impossible to look at her and not want to know more. To imagine her outside of this theater, in the light of day.
I easily climb on top of the desk, moving over Emma without touching her, into a plank position with my hands outside of her shoulders. My arm and shoulder muscles bear my body’s weight. With my elbows bent, I slowly lower down until our faces are inches away. Emma’s teeth capture her bottom lip and her eyes close.
“Open your eyes,” I say urgently. I want to see her eyes, the way they look up into mine. I’ve got five seconds to memorize the way she looks underneath me. Before this dance is over and I have to pull away from her.
Emma’s eyes pop open on my command and I feel her chest brush against mine with the deep inhale she takes.
It’s absurd that I have a strong urge to tell Vince to cut the music and lights. Make everyone go home, so I can continue this moment with Emma in private. I’d tickle her sides, hoping to produce the same genuine laugh that I heard on the roof before I’d pin her arms above her head and devour her mouth, swallow up her infectious laughter so I could save it for a rainy day. Vegas gets less than five inches of rain annually, yet so many times over the years I’ve felt like I was drowning. Trying to stay afloat. Give Sophie everything our parents couldn’t. Having something for myself has never been a priority, and yet I’ve never wanted anything so bad. Until now.
And just like that, the music fades away and the dance is over. There’s no reason for me to remain above Emma, so I push back and off the desk, then help her sit up. The audience is clapping and cheering. Catcalls and whistles ring in my ears. I walk Emma back over to the edge of the stage and help her lower down to her seat.
“Happy Birthday, Emma.” I give her a wink. It’s what I would do with any other woman I dance for. It makes me feel like I’ve got the situation under control. That Emma, a woman I’ve known for ten minutes, hasn’t gotten under my skin. Made me wonder what it would be like if I gave in to the urge to have something for myself, even if it was just for tonight.
I shake the thought and turn away from Emma. On my way backstage I run into Dallas. He’s ready for his biker performance. I’m satisfied, knowing that he can’t choose Emma for his dance.
“Hope you enjoyed that view.” Dallas lifts his chin toward the stage. “I know I sure will, later tonight.”
He knocks his shoulder into mine before heading out on stage. I’m not a violent man, but it takes everything I have to not yank him back and slam his body into the wall. From the side stage, I watch Chad pick out a woman from the crowd and lead her up to the stage to join Dallas.
Dallas is a punk. Most likely just trying to irk me. I shouldn’t let him get under my skin. He’s not worth it.
My gaze lands on Emma again. She giggles while her friend whispers something in her ear, then they both turn their attention back to the stage.
I turn away and start walking back to the dressing room, determined to let the moment go and move on.
* * *
“Griffin, you coming with us tonight?” Mike halts his movement toward the door.
“Why do you bother asking? He never comes with us.” Reggie stops short behind Mike.
“There’s a first time for everything.” Mike shrugs. “Besides, the company seems far better tonight. I’m excited to talk with the bridal gown designer. She’s going to give me all the gossip on the New York fashion scene.”
Mike’s announcement catches my attention.
“What?” My brain stops working and my heart seizes in my chest.
“She’s a designer and her friend is her assistant,” Mike says, “she’s the woman you picked for your solo dance. Gorgeous, curvy brunette.” He motions his thumb out the door, indicating she’s out in the hallway. Adrenaline seeps into my veins. I realize it doesn’t matter what I told myself before. I do care that Dallas is trying to hook up with her. Not just becauseIwant her, but because he’s a jerk that will try to nail her just for the sport of it.
Fuck. Had I really thought that Dallas would drop his interest in Emma after I gave her a solo dance? No. If anything, my desire to make Emma off limits has only made things worse. Now, I imagine he is even more determined. I don’t know Emma that well, but I would hope that she can see through his sleazy, fuck boy come ons.
I have two options. Go home, like I do every night after our shows, or go out with the guys with the plan to keep tabs on Emma and her friend, and keep Dallas away from them. I think about the comfort of my routine, how easy it has always been to tell the guys no, how most of them have stopped asking me to hang out. I’m like the parent no one wants chaperoning their school dance. Then, I imagine lying in bed tonight alone, torturing myself with images of Emma and Dallas, dancing together, him touching her.
My stomach roils with the thought. I already know it would be a sleepless night.
Even if I had no interest in Emma myself, I reason, cock-blocking Dallas sounds like a good time.
I grab my jacket. “I’m coming.”
“Shit. For real?” Mike calls but I’m already exiting the locker room. I don’t have to go far to find Dallas and the other guys. The music and laughter travels from where they’re gathered backstage. Mike was right. There, among the group of women talking with Dallas and Reggie, is Emma.
Her gaze finds mine, and I realize even though I’m annoyed with Dallas and his games, I’m excited to see her. To spend more time with her.
“Hey,” I say to the group, running my hand through my freshly showered hair, but my eyes are trained on Emma.
