Electrified(30)

He looked rugged, but refined. A gentleman who could take anything that came his way. Tough on the outside, but soft on the inside, as evidenced by the warmth in his eyes when he caught sight of her, and in the way his brow furrowed in anticipation as he approached her.

“Good morning.” One corner of his mouth lifted slightly, acknowledging the irony of his salutation although it was early afternoon. He obviously knew she kept late hours.

She was a stripper. He was a patron. Sienna needed to keep reminding herself of that little fact. This wasn’t a fairy tale. Fairy tales didn’t exist.

“Same to you,” Sienna whispered back.

Carson suggested they sit down, and lightly placed his hand on the small of her back to escort her back to where he’d been sitting.

Although she was a stripper, she’d never been touched so intimately. The faint brush of his fingertips along the bottom of her spine sent chills all the way down to her toes and back up again. Sienna automatically pulled away from the slight touch despite wanting to sink into it, confused by the unfamiliar sensations that seemed to ripple right through her.

“Is this okay?” Carson frowned and immediately removed his hand, but it still lingered, hovering near her back. The cute little lines where he furrowed his brow appeared again, making him hard to resist.

“Sorry,” she said. “Actually, it startled me a bit. I’m so used to the no-touch policy at the club.” She shrugged, unsure of what to do, where to turn, or if she should make a beeline for the exit.

Actually, I want you to rub me up and down with your big, strong hands, touching me like no one ever has before.

“No worries. Let’s go sit, start over, and I can grab us some coffee,” Carson said, and gestured toward the comfy chairs he had been saving.

Before they sat, he reached out a hand and said, “Carson Graham. Nice to meet you…formally.”

She hesitated for a second, then extended her hand and said, “Sienna Flower, but you already know that.”

He took her hand in his and shook it lightly, making their introduction official, sealing Sienna’s fate that she was doing this. Her hand felt like it was crackling on fire as she shook his, touching a man for the first time because she wanted to, not because she was handed over to him or being paid to dance in his lap.

An electric current ran through her whole body, traveling through her veins and straight to the one part of her she never revealed to anyone. The only area that stayed tightly hidden away, even at the Tunnel.

With formal introductions out of the way, he politely asked for her coffee order and then walked back to the counter as she settled into the chair opposite his.

His ass looked so good in his jeans. Noting his back pockets were slightly frayed, Sienna wanted to slide her hands in them and feel what was inside. She’d never done that before, but the idea popped into her head as though it were the most natural thing to do. Was it?

I’m screwing this whole damn thing up, Sienna thought to herself as Carson ordered a cappuccino for her and something for himself. So stupid. No-touch policy at the club? That’s the best I can come up with?

Sienna decided to move conversation away from the club when Carson came back to the chairs. Talk about him, act polite, and then end this coffee date on a nice note. In no time, she would be home for a warm bath and go to work.

Why did that tug at her heart?

Unlike normal teenagers, Sienna had never been on a date; it wasn’t part of her culture growing up. Boys and girls were separated from one another once they hit ten years old, and on that birthday, gone were the days of playing together at recess or the local playground. Their classes at school became single sex, their roles at home steered by whether they were male or female, and every second of free time was closely monitored.

Of course, as puberty arrived and their bodies changed, the boys and girls noticed one another behind lowered gazes or when no one else was watching. It was impossible not to be curious, but if one were overly curious, they were scolded and labeled as deviant.

As the baby girl of her family with three older brothers, even if she had wanted to rebel, it would have proven difficult. Lila did as she was told. She went to school, was taught by her mom to cook and run a household, prayed each day, and when the time came, she accepted an arranged marriage her parents set up for her.

So she’d never dated unless you counted the two or three times she’d shared a cup of coffee with the man she was betrothed to, under the close supervision of an adult chaperone.

Her brothers were all married off to young women her parents had hand-selected for their sons. Plain, family-oriented, religious, with no real goals other than to take care of their husbands and eventual children, all three wives were cookie-cutter models. The same model Elon thought he was getting in her, but he also wanted a punching bag who could spit out a baby each year.