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Why was he so interested? “It’s great for cardio and strength. I don’t do it for the sex appeal.” Did that answer his question? Nope. It would seem he wanted a yes or no answer. “No.”

He dropped the t-shirt on my lap. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any sexier.”

I smiled. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Would you give me a private show?” He stood in front of me, locking my legs between his. “Can I be the first man you show?”

“The only man I am pole dancing in front of is my boyfriend. So no.”

“Well, if my plan works, then that will be me.”

“Nice try, Tyson, but I’m not a club girl hoping you’ll acknowledge me.”

He scoffed. “I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I thought you were a club girl.” His hand cupped my face, my head tilting back to look up at him. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Layla. It hurts to look at you and not touch.”

I swallowed hard. What do you say back to that? He was cupping the side of my face like he was scared he would break me.

“I know you said no sex, but I can still kiss you, right?” He dipped his head, looking like he was seconds away from kissing me regardless of my answer.

My hands ran up his toned arms and I stood up, wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing his head down to mine, and this time I was the one to kiss him.

For a smart girl, I sure as fuck could be stupid. At first the kiss was gentle. But he wasn’t settling for gentle.

“You need to get out of this dress, right?” He pulled away from my lips.

I nodded my head. And his hand went to my zipper.

“Can I take it off?”

“We aren’t having sex, Tyson.” How many times was I going to have to stand firm on my decision?

“Didn’t ask if I could fuck you. I asked if I could take your dress off.”

I sighed. I didn’t realize there was a difference. “Okay, you can.”

“I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I saw you on the porch.” He slowly undid the zipper and started kissing down my neck, my neck arching as his lips moved down it.

The dress fell to the floor, leaving me standing in lingerie and heels. I stepped out of the dress and his eyes ran up and down me.

“Can I touch?” His hand was hovering over my stomach.

He was asking for permission? Most men wouldn’t have that self-control. No man has ever asked me if he could touch me. They just did it.

I slowly nodded my head.

His hands gripped my hips and he lifted me up, holding me to his chest, and then laying me down on his huge bed. My body sunk into the mattress. His hands slowly moved from my hips, but at the same time his lips started to kiss along my collarbone.

His right hand slowly moved down, over my ribcage, brushing over my hip and then gripping my upper thigh, which he lifted in the air and then wrapped around him, pulling me down the bed slightly and into him.

I was wearing a low-cut bra, so I wasn’t surprised when his lips started to move down, kissing the top half of my breast.

Then he locked his lips just where my bra started and sucked. I didn’t care that he was marking me. Maybe in the morning I would. But it wasn’t like anyone was going to see it.

He pulled back. “Is there anywhere I can’t touch you?”

I frowned. What did he mean by that? I knew the answer.

“No.” For some reason, and it was probably a stupid reason, I trusted him, which resulted in me laying there in my underwear while he explored my body.

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