Page 106 of Only for Love

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Emma

“Act normal?” Grayson’s raw voice rakes over me, and I watch him transform into a super-scary alpha dude as the door handle turns.

We have exactly half a second to pull this off. “Normal,” I answer.

I run my hands over my cheeks to wipe away rogue tears, and then I thread my fingers into my hair while moving my hips. Whoever comes through that door will see me dancing, not acting terrified of Bruno or emotional over the man in front of me. Truth is, I’ve never been more vulnerable in lace and heels than at this moment. The walls of the tiny room close in on me, and I’m doubly concerned about the hidden camera. Someone’s always watching. My body moves, but my gaze is frozen on Grayson. His twisted expression makes me feel as though he doesn’t even know me—because he doesn’t. Not anymore.

I want to cry. I want to run past security and forget whatever I saw downstairs. But instead, I hold my head high, faking it to keep myself safe. I can do this—I’ve danced for Gray every Wednesday for years. I step closer to him as the door opens wide.

One of Bruno’s men clears his throat, as though I don’t already know he’s here. “Everything okay in here, Ginger?”

I take a deep breath and hope for a miracle: that I don’t look terrified of the Emerald’s thugs or shell-shocked over Grayson. I tilt my head and give my most sultry, sinful smile, dropping my voice playfully low. “Think so. We’re just getting acquainted. Aren’t we, baby?”

“This can’t be happening,” he whispers against my ear.

With as much sexiness as I can manage, I place my hand on Gray’s chest and turn to look at him, batting my eyes and hoping to God he plays his part. Otherwise, they’ll call the session quits and pull me backstage. At least, security willtryto remove me; I have no idea how Grayson would handle that. The amount of testosterone in this tiny space is overwhelming from these two massive men.

But security backs down. “Flag if you need something, Ginger.”

“We’re good. Aren’t we, honey?” I bat my fake eyelashes and will Grayson to agree. We can make it through this.

Grayson growls some kind of agreement, and Muscle Man nods to me. I smile as if this is just any other Wednesday at work.

“Alright.” He closes the door, and Gray and I are alone. Except for that camera.

I know what I should be doing, but the look on his face says not to. “They’re watching,” I say.

He growls. “What do you mean, you’re in trouble?”

“I mean if I don’t give the lap dance of the century right now, I’m in big effin’ trouble. Gray. Please.”

“I hate this.”

I lean closer. “You’re at work, too. So, we should work.”

God—despite everything that is going on, I still notice he smells fresh, like soap, and I roll my lip into my mouth. It’d be completely absurd in this situation to feelanyarousal. But with Gray protecting me, and all this intensity, I’m notunaffected. Oh boy… I close my eyes, and the low base of the music that surrounds us rolls over me. “You said you wanted me to dance, and here I am.”

“Not like this, and you know it.”

I move my hands to his temples, fluttering my fingers to the edge of his blond hair, then slide my palms to his cheeks. The strain in his jaw radiates as I continue touching him, moving down to cup his neck and letting my thumbs smooth over his throat. His pulse pounds under my skin. “Camera, Grayson. Play your part.”

He’s so tense. “Emma—”

The show must go on, whether he’s game or not. Swaying my hips with the slow beat, I take his hands from his lap and drag them to my side then to the sash on the robe. I’m nervous, and this is unexpectedly… arousing. He doesn’t want to be here, and neither do I. But there’s a rush of emotion screaming for us both to release. I can’t explain why, but this is more than a set of practiced moves. This is my dream. This has been me dancing for him forever, and now it’s really happening. My mouth waters, and my heart rate increases. “Right now, I’m Ginger.” My robe hangs open, and I smooth my fingers over my stomach and up to my breasts. His eyes lock onto me, and I see it—the war within him. Grayson likes this as much as he hates it. I push his knees and move between his thighs then press him back against the chair. “Relax.”

“I can’t—”

My mouth is next to his ear, my fingers toying with his hair. “Let me dance for you. Not because I’m scared to leave this room.” My tongue catches his ear lobe. “Not because your new job means you have to roll with it.”

“No.”

“This is my fantasy, Gray. How I survived while you were gone.”

His body goes rigid under me. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know. I know, baby. Stop saying that.” I back away from him and drop my robe. His eyes burn over me, and I know he’ll give me the answer I want, because no matter how angry or frustrated he is, this is Gray and I. I refuse to let him continue beating himself up overourmistakes. I bear responsibility too, because I could’ve told him about my life. I could’ve found him—and done more than hope and dream about him. “Gray, don’t you know? No matter where in the world you were, what you did, or how long it’s been, I’ve existed for you to come home to again.”

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