Page 23 of The Lies You Love
Auden licks her lips. “If you say so. Strip clubs don’t make me feel threatened.” Her eyes darken in the low light. “They turn me on. I thought you should know.”
“Oh,” I mutter, swallowing down uneasiness that now pairs with nerves. “You want a dance?” I nod to the dancer on stage. “Let’s arrange it.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “From you. I want a dance from you, Beck.” Her lips wrap around my name and it looks X-rated.
“What?” I nearly shout. “No way.” I cough into my fist. “I can’t dance.”
She giggles. “Don’t you want to give me what I want? This is something easy. It’s not like I’m asking for two months or something impossible like that.” Her posture changes and she leans away.
“Let’s focus on the one month for now,” I order. “Do you want a dance from her?” I point at another stripper already eyeing us like an eagle seeking prey.
Auden stands, running her hand down my chest as she sets her empty beer bottle on the wobbly table. “I told you what I wanted. Question is, will you give it to me?”
It’s a mind block. It has to be. I can’t tell her no. “Right here?” I lose my breath. “You’re serious.”
Her palm grazes my abs, and then she cups my hard dick and balls gently. My stomach flips and my head swims at the public contact, but I don’t make a move to stop her. “Grab her and let’s go into a back room.” Auden waggles her finger to the brunette dancer and gestures toward the back room.
Griffin noticed that, and he’s cheering me on like I’m the home team. I’m never uncomfortable in any situation because mental toughness and being prepared for any scenario is part of my job, but right now, with my pulse hammering against my neck, a sheen of sweat running down the sides of my face, and the girl of my dreams tugging me into a back room with a stripper, I feel like I might combust.
The stripper introduces herself in an animated voice that reeks of make-believe, but Auden stops her with a palm out, then tells her, “So this is the plan…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Auden
If he’s only giving me a month, I reckon I better make it fun. Unforgettable. An unputdownable story. That’s the goal, and I don’t have to do anything special to make it a reality. I just have to be myself. A little uninhibited and reckless, but still me. Beck’s face is ashen as he scrutinizes the woman for the first time under the new lights, and that’s a generous word, he looks like he’s trying to kill her with a look.
“Eddie’s Café,” he says, clearing his throat.
Her blue eyes turn violet when a strobe light in the room flickers past, and there’s an indistinguishable emotion crossing Beckett’s face. “What do you mean? Deviating from her plan?” the stripper asks, almost a challenge in her voice.
“Eddie’s Café,” Beck repeats, rubbing his jaw. Something seemingly clicks, and it’s a split-second decision. He moves in front of me, edging me toward the exit. “Her plan wasn’t well thought out, and frankly, I don’t want anyone else involved in our activities.”
I merely suggested we both give Beck a lap dance. The way he’s moving away from the woman is predatory, and it makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Not tonight and not ever.”
Well, that’s a little possessive. My heart leaps, and a flood of wetness rushes my panties.
“It all fucking makes sense,” Beck mutters low enough that I’m the only one who hears. He turns back to me. “We’re leaving now.”
I swallow hard. “Okay,” I say, sensing the urgency in his tone, failing to muster the energy to argue with him when there’s a perfectly attractive woman standing in front of us.
There aren’t any words that I hear while Beck shuffles us through the club, over to Griffin where he’s shoving dollar bills into a garter, and then out on the sidewalk. Beck wordlessly leaves me with his friend to make an important phone call, and I’m left staring at Ramsey’s latest conquest.
“So, do you know what it is he does? For work?” In my mind, this should be a harmless question posed to a best friend, but by the way Griffin shifts around, agitated, I can tell it makes him uncomfortable.
“We always knew he was going to do something like this. He wasn’t like the rest of us. Growing up in the city, you know? He wanted to make a difference.”
Not an answer, but I’ll take it because it’s a puzzle piece to a man I’m a little fixated on.
“How was he as a kid?”
Griffin looks at me sideways.
“What? I’m really interested! I want to know. His life seems so intriguing. I mean, I know this isn’t serious, but there’s still so much I don’t know.”
He pulls a funny face. “That isn’t by accident, Beck doesn’t really tell people… anything. As a kid, he was the same way. He probably had a CIA side gig at age sixteen, if I had to guess.”
