Page 3 of Claiming Atlas

I shake my head. It really doesn’t matter at this point; I’d fuck her right here on the bar. The floor. Against the wall. On the wing of the motherfucking plane, if she’d let me.

Chapter Two

Kayla

Destiny’s downward dog is pretty on point, but I wish she was just doing yoga, not regretting the Taco Bell she had on the way to work tonight.

I hold my breath as I pass her on my way to my locker. “Girl, you need to stop eating that shit.”

She twists her head sideways to look up at me through her armpit. “I stay skinnybecauseof that shit.” She grins. “Instant laxative.”

I frown. “And look at what it does to you.”

She grimaces. “Par for the course. I can handle a little gas.”

“I can’t.” Scar comes through the black curtain from the main stage and stops a few feet away from Destiny. “Again, Des?” She shakes her head and meets my gaze. “We really shouldn’t have to suffer through this.”

Destiny laughs, then slowly curls and exits the pose. “It doesn’t even smell.”

Scar scoffs. “We shouldn’t even have tobreatheit.”

I snort. “Who knew yoga would be so helpful for flatulence.”

Destiny grins as she stands, then steps into her stilettos. “It’s not bad for the body either.” She gives me a little shake, then heads toward the curtains.

“Try not to fart on the customers.”

Destiny disappears onto the stage and Scar laughs. “Classy.”

I turn to her and widen my eyes. “If only they knew what really goes on in the dressing room of a strip club, right?”

“We’d be broke.”

“Definitely out of work.” I laugh. “What’s it like out there?”

“It’s not great for a Wednesday.” She holds up her wad of singles. “But I think I may take a few days off, maybe relax until that tech convention rolls through next week.”

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