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8
Lyra
Well, if this isn’t a complete fuck up, I don’t know what is. I can’t believe I’m standing here in Knight’s shirt, debating the rest of my night. I can’t believe this is his club, either. Of all the places the asshole could have brought me to, and it's here. My client’s idea of a good time is to watch me strip, and here we are. He bought his way into this club and me onto the stage. I’m not a stripper, but I did the best I could.
“Can I go?”
“No.”
“Why?” I ask once more, but Knight looks lost and confused, and I can’t say I blame him for that. I’m confused. I shouldn’t be here, yet I am.
“Your night is over,” he tells me.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means your date is done. He’s out,” he snaps as he pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a phone call. I hear the one-sided conversation, and my mouth drops open. I heard him order whoever was on the other end to kick my date out.
“He’ll tell Kimber!”
“And?”
“And I’ll lose my job.”
“You quit. You’re done workin’ for Kimber.”
“I don’t think so. I need the money,” I argue. Who the hell does he think he is?
“You get paid for me to eat your pussy!” He roars. What? No! It can’t be him. Embarrassment washes over me in this second. His cologne. I can smell it on his shirt. The mixture of cologne and cigarette smoke. How could I not have known it was him this whole time?
“That’s not right,” I say softly.
“Room two ten.” Oh God. My mouth goes dry as I think about it. It makes sense now. Has he known this whole time? Did he know it was me the other night on his porch?
“I know what you’re thinkin’, and no, I didn’t know until just now.”
“This is fucked up,” I grumble.
“You’re done workin’ for Kimber.”
“No. I need the job, Knight.”
“I’ll give you a job,” he tells me.
“Here?”
“Hell no, not here! No one is gonna see your pussy but me!” He sounds angry, and I’m not sure why. His words make no sense. We’re not together. I’m so confused.
“What are you talking about?” He doesn’t answer. He runs his hand through his hair before looking up at me. Then he stalks toward me like I’m his prey. I step back and hit the door when his hands come up to cup my cheeks. Before I can respond or react, his lips are on mine. He’s kissing me until I can’t breathe. His tongue swoops into my mouth, toying with mine. I groan, and he eats up every sound I make.
Finally, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, Lyra.”
“What?”
“Why do you make me crazy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m dizzy. My head is swimming with everything going on.
