All the Pretty Poses
Page 18

“Oh, this old thing?” I say, fluttering my eyelashes in mock coyness. “I did the best I could for today, but I couldn’t find much. But tonight…tonight I’m wearing something just for you. I think you’ll really enjoy it.”
Reese raises one brow. “Reeeally?”
The look he gives me threatens to make me blush. He’s all but licking his lips like a hungry wolf and I’m all but dying to be his next meal.
********
A couple of hours later, as I’m relaxing in the shade, I realize that Reese was right. This isn’t as bad as I thought it might be. As I’ve watched, a couple of the guys seem like they’re just really shy. I can see where that could be a problem for them in real life. But not here.
Most of the others seem well-adjusted, if a little playboy-ish. I think they’re here for the fantasy, like Reese says. But there’s one or two, particularly Nathan and Jeremy, that give me an uneasy feeling. Something about each of them reminds me of watching a predator. And not in a good way. Even though I have nothing to base it on, I get the feeling that they could get a little rough and insistent. Maybe too insistent. It makes me glad that Reese has more or less staked his claim on me. I’d hate to find myself alone with either one of the two. I’m not sure I’d know what to do. At Exotique, we didn’t have to worry about things like this. There was ample security and the creepers were usually weeded out pretty quickly.
My eyes find Reese. He’s embroiled in a conversation about stocks and looking in no hurry to move, so when the breeze picks up and gives me a chill, I decide to head for one of the two raised decks to warm myself in the sun. I choose the one to the right of the bar. The one that Amber is not occupying.
My eyes are closed and my face is tilted to the sun when a shadow falls over me. I smile as I crack my lids. I expect to see Reese hovering above me, but instead, I find Nathan.
“Be careful and don’t burn. It would be a shame to damage one inch of this beautiful skin.” He bends to drag one finger down my thigh as he sits on the end of my lounge chair.
I scoot up into a sitting position, giving him what I hope is a frosty smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine. I’m careful. Very careful,” I say, emphasizing my last words in case my uninterested smile didn’t give him the message.
“Reese always keeps the good ones to himself. Why is that?”
I don’t know how to answer that. The only thing I can think of is that I might die if he touches me again. There’s nothing overtly bothersome about him. I mean he’s not ugly with his dark-blond hair and almond-shaped, green eyes, but there is something about him that makes my skin crawl.
Everything that happens next happens so fast, I struggle to take it all in. Nathan is there, sitting next to me one minute and the next minute he’s gone. In one quick jerk, Reese grabs him by the back of his shirt, hauls him up and flings him away, sending him careening into two empty chairs as he tries to right himself.
Nathan’s expression is comical as his arms flail and he sputters, “What the hell, man?”
Reese’s face is positively thunderous. His lips are thin and tight, his fingers are curled into big fists and every muscle in his tall, lean body is stiff as a board. “I told you she’s my guest.”
“I thought it was the girl’s choice. Isn’t that what you’ve always said? Isn’t that your ‘policy’?” he asks snidely, making air quotes.
“It is my policy, except with her. She’s mine. You don’t touch her, you don’t speak to her. You don’t even look at her. You stay the hell away or I’ll throw your ass into the middle of the pacific and you can swim to Fiji.”
Nathan’s face blazes bright red as he straightens his shirt and tries to regain some of his scattered composure. “That’s all you had to say, Spencer. Jesus.”
Casting a nasty look over his shoulder, first at Reese then at me, Nathan makes his way off the sundeck and then off the upper deck entirely. I assume he’s on his way to his room where he can lick his wounds in private.
Reese looks around at all the eyes fastened on him before he reaches for my hand. Without hesitation, I slip my fingers into his and he pulls me to my feet. His eyes are nearly black with anger and desire and something primitively possessive as he looks down at me.
“Did I mention that you’re off the clock today?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe cautiously.
“Good.” With that, he bends his head and gives me a kiss that curls my toes and sears me all the way to my soul. When he’s done, he lifts his head, winks at me, brushes his lips over mine again and then turns to our cluster of onlookers. “Any questions?” he asks loudly.
Heads shake all over the deck. Some of the men raise their hands in the universal hands-off gesture. Others simply look away like they don’t want to rouse his ire again.
I know I should be insulted. I’ve just been publicly claimed. But I’m not. It’s obvious that Reese has never claimed another girl, at least not like this, and it gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, he really does have feelings for me.
“Come on,” Reese says, taking my hand. “I’ll get Arnold, the captain, to stop us for a couple of hours so we can ride the jet skis.”
And, just like that, it’s over. He’s back to Reese. Calm Reese. Charming Reese. Like nothing ever happened.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur, in a dream-like state of pure happiness. Reese takes me jet skiing out in the pacific. He teases and flirts with me, stopping regularly to pull my vehicle in close enough to his that he can kiss me. And not just light pecks, but real kisses, kisses that leave me breathless and wanting.
When dinner rolls around, he’s even his charming self around his clients, the clients whom he has blatantly ignored for the majority of the day. It puts me at ease, but I can tell that Nathan is still sore. I can see it in the dirty looks he keeps giving Reese when Reese isn’t paying attention. Otherwise, he seems to have moved on. He requested the company of a beautiful platinum-haired server to whom I have yet to be formally introduced. He turns on the charm for her, just as the rest of the men turn on the charm for their chosen company, leaving me to revel in the way that Reese seems to need to touch me all the time.
Every few minutes, whether he’s talking to someone else or drinking his wine and listening, he will brush my hand or touch my hair or bump my leg with his under the table. And every time I look at him, no matter what he’s doing, he’ll glance in my direction. Sometimes he winks, sometimes he smiles and sometimes he just watches me in a way that makes my heart soften like cream cheese on a hot stove.
All in all, it’s been one of the best days I’ve had in a long time, despite the questionable run-in with Nathan. Our easy rapport has made me anticipate my dance tonight even more. I hope he’s pleased that I remember something so small from so long ago.
When he drops me off at my room to get ready, he wraps his long fingers around my neck, pushing my hair back over my shoulders before he bends to kiss my pulse. When I feel his tongue sneak out to flicker over it, my arms break out in chills.
“I want you so much I can barely think straight,” he moans against my skin. “Remember that when you dance tonight. Remember that you’re dancing for me. And no one else.”
“Yes,” I manage to croak, digging my fingers into his thick biceps to keep from dragging him into my room. “And you remember that this dance is specifically for you. Just…remember.”
Reese lifts his head, a question burning in his eyes. I smile pluckily, reach around to swat him on the butt and then turn to go into my room. It isn’t until my door is closed and I’m leaning against it that I hear his long exhalation. I grin with the knowledge that he’s suffering every bit as much as I am. But maybe not much longer. Maybe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - Reese
I have to make myself sit through the first hour of carefully orchestrated performances. I’m not interested in seeing, hearing or participating in anything that doesn’t involve Kennedy.
It’s my own fault that she goes on last. Part of that is because I had Karesh add her at the last minute. I know she wants to feel like an employee and I know she loves to dance. But I hate, and I mean hate with a passion that rivals my passion for her, the thought of anyone else having their eyes on her as she dances. It sets my teeth on edge just thinking of how uncomfortable those four minutes will be. But it’s for her. If I can just keep that in mind…
When it’s finally time for her spot, I find that I’m both excited and testy as hell. I glance left and right to see who’s watching. Everyone is. Of course.
I muffle my growl of displeasure.
The lights go dark and I turn my attention back to the stage. When I hear the first notes of the music, I can’t help but smile. She said her choice for tonight would really please me. She’s already right.
When I was younger, my brothers and I used to watch some of my dad’s old movies when he wasn’t home, which was often. It was one of those mischievous little things that bond a bunch of young boys for life.
One of my favorites to watch was a tale about a hard-working girl who was a welder by day and a dancer by night. She always wanted to be a ballerina and she met a guy who made that happen for her. My father used to say she was white trash and that nothing like that would ever happen in real life, but I admired her determination, not to mention her hot body and the way she danced. I’m pretty sure that girl gave me at least a dozen of my earliest hard-ons.
I once told Kennedy about it, during that summer so long ago. She said she’d seen the movie and that she loved to watch the girl dance, too. It makes me wonder how much that show influenced both of our lives. I grew up to own dance clubs. Kennedy grew up to dance in one of them. And now, here we are as the girl who has practically nothing and the rich man who can make her dreams come true. Could it be life imitating art?
If we ever had a song, this might be it. And she’s playing it for me.
With the first few beats, Kennedy slips quietly out from behind the curtain. Dramatically, she drags her bare toes with each step she takes, her head cast down as she walks. Her slim legs are bare but for the material bunched around her calves. She’s wearing a short, skin-tight black skirt and a gray sweatshirt with the neck cut out. It hangs off one shoulder, revealing one narrow, black bra strap. If the music hadn’t told me what she was thinking, the sweatshirt would’ve.
She makes her way to the center of the stage where she dips and sways and twirls like a graceful ballerina. It’s easy to see that her talent runs much further than just sexy dancing, although every move she makes is sexy just because she’s Kennedy. I don’t think she can help it.
Mesmerized, I watch her dance. As the song plays, her moves become more titillating, her eyes swing my way more often. When she spreads her legs into a deep split, her lips part on what looks like a silent moan, like she’s remembering me between them. When she bends backward, perfectly displaying her round tits, she closes her eyes like she’s feeling me touch her. Everything she does makes my c**k that much harder.
It’s when she makes her way to the lone chair that I somehow overlooked that I realize what’s coming. The lights dim into one spotlight that’s focused on her in a single bright beam.
I watch her hand rise to loosen her hair, letting it tumble free in a thick, shiny wave as she arches her back away from the chair. She raises her hand again, this time reaching above her, toward a cord that I can just now see.
I stand to my feet, knowing what comes next. In slow motion, I see her tug. Water falls from out of nowhere, crashing down over her chest and stomach and splashing onto the floor.
She arches her back further and I can hear her gasp clearly, even over the music. Through the wet material of her gray sweatshirt, I can see her ni**les harden. As much as I want to taste them, at the moment, all I can think about is how much I hate that anyone else is seeing this, that anyone else is seeing her.
My anger rises fast and hot, boiling over before the song even finishes.
“Out!” I shout, loud enough to be heard over the music. There is a pause, during which I turn to scan the room before I repeat, more harshly, “Everybody out.”
The room clears within a few seconds, the music of some other song left playing in the background. Kennedy is sitting up in her chair, watching me, water dripping from the ends of her hair. When I make my way up onto the stage, she’s not moving, not breathing.
Neither am I.
CHAPTER THIRTY - Kennedy
I see him leap onto the stage with one graceful jump. I see his eyes roving my body like he’s deciding what part to attack first. And I see the patience that he’s shown me thus far as it dwindles to nothing. Nothing but hunger. Desire. Passion in its rawest, hottest form.
When he reaches me, I know the instant he sets his hands on me that this is going to be a rocket ride to the moon, fast and furious and mind-blowing. And I’m ready for it.
It’s time.
His hands go first to my hair, winding into the wet strands and holding my face still for him. His mouth plunders mine. Our tongues tangle, our lips devour.
I feel his hands skate urgently down my arms to curl in the hem of my shirt. He rips it up over my head and flings it to the side. With a growl, he pulls me to him again, bending his head to suck my lower lip into his mouth.
“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he says, his voice dry and hoarse. “Tell me I can do anything I want to you. Right here. Right now.”
His words are a spark to dry grass and my insides go up in flames, like a desert wildfire. Heat licks down my spine and burns in the space between my legs.