Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
B’s coworkers came forward and started throwing dollars at the stripper. Even the customers, some in strips of foil, came forward to throw money. Catcalls and clapping filled the salon and with the loud music and noise, B felt like he’d gone to a rave. And of course, it was all the better because B’s station was right next to the enormous picture windows facing downtown Cincinnati. More than a few people passing by on the sidewalk had stopped to watch the free show.
B held his breath as the jock-wearing stripper straddled Hollis’s lap and gyrated all over him. His hips mimicked the sensual beat of the song.
Ian whooped, throwing his head back and laughing uproariously.
Poor Hollis looked as if he didn’t know what to do or where to put his hands. He sat still, a smile twitching his lips as the stripper leaned down and whispered something in his ear. Hollis’s eyes went wide when the man speared his hands through Hollis’s hair, turning his blond locks into more of a mess than they already were.
B had to give him snaps for being able to move his hips like that while seated on another man’s lap. That was when he caught sight of several men standing outside the salon, all laughing and pointing. Hollis spotted them and lifted his middle finger into the air, causing one of the men to fall over, he was laughing so hard.
B assumed they were Hollis’s police friends—the ones who’d hired the stripper.
“Oh hell,” B said as he ran and grabbed the tequila and a couple of shot glasses. He poured one for Ian, who grinned and knocked it back. The bottle was then passed around the room until it was empty.
The stripper gave Hollis a big smack on the cheek and crawled off his lap to dance around the room. More money flowed as he made his way to Ian. “You the lucky guy he’s marrying?”
“That would be me.”
“I can’t tell which one of you is luckiest.” He pushed Ian into the chair and danced around him.
Ian’s brown eyes went wide as he watched the man’s hips.
B didn’t blame him. The man could move. Sweat glistened on his chest and he ran one hand down it, blue eyes meeting B’s. B shivered, thoroughly enjoying the show. Ricky was gonna get so lucky later. Really, really lucky.
By the time the stripper finished his routine, it felt at least twenty degrees hotter in the salon. B turned up the air conditioner and watched as the fake cop put his clothes back on and wrapped things up. Hollis shook his hand and thanked him, a huge grin on his face. The man was such a good sport.
Once B had Ian back in his chair, he couldn’t stop chuckling over the whole experience. Hollis returned to getting his nails buffed, red filling his cheeks.
“I’ve got to think of a way to get them back,” Hollis drawled. “I can’t believe they sent a stripper here.”
“It was awesome,” Ian said as he watched B style his hair. “You enjoyed it. Admit it.”
“The guy had some moves.” Hollis’s slow grin was so sexy, B shook his head. He felt like he’d had a day of testosterone overload, and he was so ready to go home and attack his boyfriend.
He froze. Yeah, he was starting to think of Ricky that way, and he knew Ricky would love it.
He finished Ian’s hair and brushed all the clippings off his neck and cape. He swept up as he eyed Hollis’s hair. “What am I doing with you?”
“Just clean it up. It won’t matter how you fix it—it has a mind of its own.”
B nodded as Hollis settled in his chair. Hollis did have some stubborn, wild hair, but it suited him. While B worked, he listened to everyone talk about the stripper. The poor salon had never seen such a wild day, and his heart was still beating overly hard. Luckily, his hands were steady as a rock as he clipped the ends of Hollis’s blond hair.
“So, what did he whisper into your ear?” B asked.
That slow, sexy grin returned, and Hollis looked at his fiancé. “He said if we ever want a third, he’s available.” He pulled his hand out from under the cape and held out a piece of paper. “His phone number. He gave it to me when I shook his hand.”
Ian, face covered in scrub, stood and snatched up the paper. He tore it into pieces and dropped them into the wastebasket. “We won’t be needing that,” he said and brushed his hands together.
B threw his head back and cackled.
Chapter Six
B opened the door to his apartment and was hit with the mouthwatering scent of spicy, red pasta sauce. He dropped his keys on the table in the entry and walked through to the kitchen. He was met with the sight of Ricky’s denim-clad ass as the man bent over, checking something in the oven.