Page 50 of The Dance
“Panicked?”
Taking a seat in my desk chair across from my bed, I explained, “I brought this awful chick to the Cowboys game and left her there.” Stacey’s eyes widened, and I continued. “She’s fine. Well, I think so. She actually left me for two dudes, but that’s beside the point.”
“And what is the point?” she teased. “Should I feel jaded or something because I’m playing second fiddle?”
I leaned forward and squeezed her knee, leaving my hand resting on her skin. “You would’ve been my first call if we were speaking. I would’ve rather stayed with you in the hotel and gone to the game with you.”
“You could have texted me like you did tonight.”
“Like I said, I panicked.” I leaned back in the chair.
“Who was she?”
I shrugged. “Some chick I went home with the other night from The Wild Pony.”
Stacey’s eyes widened as something occurred to her. “Wait. The night we had our … fight, you were leaving with two women, but you said you got a DUI that night?”
I took a deep breath. “Don’t remind me. I barely made it out of the parking lot before I got pulled over.”
“So, you didn’t have a threesome?”
“Are you jealous?” I smirked over the rim of the water bottle, then took a sip.
She hesitated for a moment before her gaze dropped to her lap. “I was jealous of the thought of it because …”
“Because you haven’t fucked for pleasure in over a year,” I finished for her from our conversation earlier. Stacey nodded, not raising her head from looking down at her lap. “Well, we’re changing that tonight.”
Her gaze met mine. “I don’t know if I can.”
I smiled my Montgomery smile and stood, reaching out my hand for her to take. “Come on, baby. You know we don’t have a problem in that department. Do you trust me?”
She stared at me for a beat before taking my hand to stand. “I think so.”
Brushing her brunette hair off her shoulder, I cupped her cheek with one hand. “Then, are you ready?” I kissed her lips softly.
She nodded, and for good measure, I walked to my stereo and turned it on. Not too loud, but hopefully loud enough to drown out any fucking noise that was about to commence. “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke featuring T.I. was playing, and I turned, looking over my shoulder at her.
“I think this is a sign.”
She snorted. “That was a good night, even if I did see a client and we had to make a quick escape.”
“Yeah, but dancing with you on the dance floor and singing this song was the best part.” I walked to her.
“It was.”
“Now, whenever I hear this song, I’m going to think of you.”
“Same.” Stacey smiled warmly.
Just like the night on the dance floor, I sang the words to her. Instead of taking her in my arms to sway to the music, I reached for the hem of her tank top, lifting it and tying it around her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she questioned.
“Trust me,” I said.
Once it was tied in a bow at the back of her scalp and covering her eyes so she couldn’t see, I unbuttoned her jeans, bending and kissing a trail down her stomach as I slid her pants and underwear down her legs. She stepped out of them, and I moved behind her, kissing each of her butt cheeks. Standing, I removed her bra, tossing it on the floor with her clothes, and then drew my finger up the back of one leg and then the other before running it across her backside and up her spine. She shivered, goosebumps pricking her skin as my lips kissed the back of her bare neck.
“You like that?” I whispered.
