Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
My eyes bulge as I choke out through a cough, “Dance?”
I realize her eyes have more flecks of green than brown when she tilts her head back to stare me dead set in the eyes. I’m not the best at guessing people’s heights, but she is a good foot shorter than my six-three stature.
The smirks keep coming when the reason for her eye lock dawns on me. She didn’t want me to miss her massive eye roll when she pushes out with a gag, “Sorry. Your performance.” She could only sound more revolted if she were straining Octavia’s rendition of pea and ham soup through her teeth. Octavia’s snoring isn’t the only negative she’ll need to hide from prospective suitors. Her horrendous cooking skills should be as high on the list. “Just take the five hundred, Caleb. Please. I tried to wrestle up another hundred, but I’m more broke than a nine-month pregnant hooker.”
Jess’s pouty lip as she stares up at me with begging eyes has me considering forking over money for her to watch me dance, but my curiosity is too high for me to discount. “What exactly are you wanting to pay me five hundred dollars to do?”
Calm down, boy, I mentally chastise my cock. A woman with Jess’s looks wouldn’t need to pay for services, and even if she did, I’m reasonably sure prostitution is illegal in Seattle.
I guess I could do it for free, then no laws are being broken.
My lips twitch in response to my inner monologue as Jess replies, “Dance.”
When she thrusts her hand at members of the bachelorette party eyeballing our exchange more than the karaoke monitor, the truth smacks into me. “You think I’m a stripper?”
“Me think you’re a stripper. Never.” Her minty breath hits my lips when she pffts me. “You’re an adult entertainer.” As she thrusts her hand into the tiny purse she tossed onto the counter next to my beer, she adds, “At least that’s what your brochure said.”
My top lip curls into a snarl when I take in the similarities of the headless torso on the ‘adult entertainment’ brochure and me. We have a comparable build, but the man pimping himself out for nine hundred a night doesn’t have any tattoos. I have many—more than my mother would like.
“Goddammit!” Jess half whispers half roars when I roll up the sleeves of my shirt to show her the tattoos snaking up my arm. “I knew his request for a fifty percent down payment was full of crap.” A honeysuckle scent wafts into my nostrils when she spins to face the women still watching our exchange. “Heidi will be so disappointed. I talked this guy up for weeks.”
Her disappointed groan has barely left her mouth when she snaps her eyes back to mine. I stand a little straighter when she rakes her eyes down my body, taking in my long-sleeve V-neck shirt, gray sweatpants, and white Adidas shoes.
By the time her eyes return to my face, the heat bouncing between us is intensive, and I’m almost willing to do anything she asks if it gives my teeth the chance of replacing hers that are digging into her chunky bottom lip.
‘Almost’ being the imperative part of my reply.
“You could do it,” Jess pushes out slowly, her tone coy.
With my smile uncontained, I shake my head. “I appreciate the compliment, but I can’t do that.” I nudge my head to the pamphlet during the ‘that’ part of my reply.
“Why the hell not?” Stealing my chance to rattle off the one hundred and one reasons firing through my head, Jess continues speaking, “You’ve got the body for it. The swagger. Hell, I doubt they’d even care if you kept your shirt on. I sure as hell won’t.” She snaps her mouth shut as if she’s said too much, but the foot lodged in her mouth doesn’t keep her quiet for long. “Please, Caleb. This is my first gig as a matron of honor. I don’t want to stuff it up.”
“Not having a stripper at a bachelorette party—”
“Is an instant dismissal as far as I’m concerned.”
I scoff at her, certain she’s overreacting. It’s only when disappointment dampens the bright spark in her eyes do I realize this is more important to her than just a girls’ night out. Although the knowledge lowers my tone a smidge, it doesn’t alter the facts. “I can’t do it. I don’t like to be touched.”
My honesty with a stranger is shocking, but what’s even more outstanding than that is Jess’s quick acceptance of a confession I’ve not shared before. “That’s okay. We can work with that.” I’m envious of her teeth for the second time when she rakes them over her bottom lip. “You just need to shake your tuchus…” She bites on her lip so hard I’m afraid she’ll draw blood before pushing out with a faint moan, “And perhaps remove your shirt.”