Page 10 of Wreck Me

‘Scarlett is a beautiful name.’ He reaches for the champagne bottle and pours two glasses.

He hands one to Avery and places the other in my hand. Thick tanned fingers graze fleetingly against mine and electricity sparks between us. His eyebrows skyrocket for a second before he composes himself. ‘Is it your real name?’ He inches closer to be heard over the music.

I nod and raise the glass to my lips, just to do something with my hands. I thought dancing on a stage in front of a room full of men was unnerving, but it had nothing on meeting James Beckett in the flesh. I’ve never seen a dick in my life, but even I can tell he oozes big dick energy.

The question is, what does he want with me?

‘How did it feel up there, knowing you had the attention of every man in the room?’ The creases at the corner of his eyes hint at a wealth of experience. I feel like a child in comparison, yet more woman than I’ve felt in my entire life.

‘Everyman?’ Those two little words slide past my lips like a question, and he chuckles.

‘Every man,’ he repeats in a gravelly tone.

My fingers skim over the tops of my thigh and his eyes fall, following the motion. ‘It was intoxicating.’Almost as intoxicating as sitting here, with you.

‘Intoxicating.’ He turns the word over as if he’s contemplating it. ‘I’d have to agree.’ He shifts slightly in his seat and a muscular thigh rests against mine.

‘So, Scarlett,’ James draws out my name in a way thatmakes it sound sensual, ‘when did you start at the Luxor Lounge?’ He picks up his drink and swirls it thoughtfully around the crystal glass.

‘This is my first shift.’

Surprise lights up his eyes. ‘So you’re a Luxor virgin, so to speak?’

I feel my face flush. Is it that obvious? Or is his choice of words coincidental?

‘I guess you could say that.’

‘Well, you were,’ he glances at the chunky timepiece on his wrist, ‘until about fifteen minutes ago.’ His lips lift in a grin and his eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘You absolutely nailed it.’

I take a large mouthful of champagne. ‘Thank you.’

‘What’s a nice girl like you doing working in a place like this?’

I shrug. ‘I need the money.’

‘What for?’ His tone is one of genuine curiosity.

‘Forty grand of student loans. I’m on a scholarship but it only covers my tuition. Rent is extortionate and my landlord just increased it.’

Twisting his torso towards me, he leans forwards. ‘Which college do you attend?’

‘Trinity.’ I exhale a shaky breath. College is a safe subject. Safer than my virginity, of any kind. ‘Less than six months until graduation.’

‘That’s remarkable. Scholarships to Trinity are like gold dust.’ His thumb roams over his stubble again. ‘I graduated from Oxford. Economics and Finance.’

‘Really? I’m studying for a masters in finance too.’ I’m not familiar with his academic credentials. His personal life is much more juicy, if the tabloids are anything to go by.

James Beckett and three women on a yacht.

I press my thighs together tighter and fight the urge to squirm.

‘If you need some extra tuition with your upcoming finals, perhaps I could help.’ He eyes me over the rim of the glass.

My pulse spikes as my mind wanders to the gutter, imagining a different type of tuition.

A low laugh purrs from his lips like he can read my mind. ‘Rest assured, you’re safe. I know my reputation somewhat precedes me, but I don’t indulge inextraactivities with dancers.’ He heavily accentuates the last word.

For some inexplicable reason this feels like a test. But in what subject?

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