At the club, she wore a sexual little pout while she danced. But when they were having coffee, her mouth was relaxed and natural, downright delectable, desirable. The small smile she had flashed him was bright, and her lips were full.
Carson wanted those lips on him. All over him.
SIENNA WAS half-dazed by the time the town car came to pick her up before work on Saturday night. She was in such a haze that even Simon asked her if she was feeling well.
She told herself to snap out of her funk as she entered the club through the back door, and was happy to see Petey at the rear entrance. He was looking rough and impassive as usual in his leather jeans, white T-shirt wrapped tightly around his biceps, and silver chains dangling from his belt loop to his pocket. Petey minded his own business, and Sienna was in no mood to deal with mother-hen Mike now. She had given him his coffee earlier in the parking lot of the coffee shop, and had sent him on his way before he could ask too many questions.
Putting on her unflappable and confident face, Sienna walked like a gazelle into the club. With long strides, her hair loose and swaying behind her, she decided to put Carson in the back of her mind. She was an exotic dancer, adult entertainer, and half owner of a gentleman’s club. She wasn’t the type of woman men wanted to form a lifelong commitment with.
Men wanted sex from her. Only sex. Sex with “Sienna Flower,” without even really knowing who she was. Or all she could be if she weren’t hiding.
Normally the thought of sex, especially sex without strings, turned Sienna off, which was why she was so inexperienced. If she wanted, she could have a different flavor of man every night of the week.
Settled at her vanity, carefully applying her makeup, she only glanced up from time to time when she heard footsteps outside her dressing room door. Except no one ever knocked or entered. Wishing one of the girls would come by and give her a report on the floor, Sienna realized she was only looking for an excuse to talk to someone, get her head out of the gutter, and put her one-track thoughts to rest.
She actually had to reapply her eyeliner four times because she jumped each time she heard feet approach, and she would smear black glitter clear across her cheek. The sexual banter in her head wasn’t helping matters. The mere thought of a certain man’s hands touching her were making her body quiver.
With Carson, she was starting to believe she could be persuaded to take a taste test, and this was precisely what was so troubling. She was sexually attracted to Carson in a way she’d never been to anyone else. Ever.
She had no idea why or what sparked the change. Perhaps because he was drop-dead gorgeous with a strong exterior, but clearly not indifferent to feelings on the inside?
Which is a hundred percent different from the man I’m still married to.
Carson was a real man, and all man at that, physically fit with broad, thick muscles. He was confident with a touch of arrogance, yet kind at the same time. His eyes were like a dark pool with moonlight shining down through them, and so compelling it was hard to pull your gaze away. She itched to touch his tanned skin and explore that mysterious tattoo she’d only seen glimpses of. And his hair, oh how she wanted to thread her fingers through those dark waves. Carson was an attractive package, and she liked it all a little too much.
He would be her flavor of choice if she could pick one, and she wanted a nice, long lick.
Sienna knew it was really her mind playing tricks on her. Forbidden fruit was only desirable because you couldn’t have it. Carson was intriguing because he was so different from any of the boys she knew while growing up. Those boys were slight, bony, messy, unkempt, and boring. There were definitely no tattoos to be found anywhere on their bodies; it simply wasn’t allowed.
She gave up on makeup for the moment and moved to her soft purple velour chaise. She didn’t know why it had to match the rest of the club. No one ever came back to her room other than the girls or Asher, but it did. She reclined on the sumptuous fabric, smoothing her hands down its plush sides, letting her head fall back, and sighing deeply. She had no idea what was happening to her mind. She resigned herself to the fact she couldn’t stop herself. Her heart was on its own path, just like her fingers trailing up and down the sofa, making their way back and forth, skimming the edges of her thighs, leaving soft touches here and there, perhaps even reminders of what she really wanted.
God, was she one of those women who chased after bad boys? No, she was just lonely. If she really thought about it, she’d been lonely her entire life. Growing up with an austere, devout father concerned with impressing the neighbors, a mother who made her father’s happiness her main role, and three brothers who had paid no attention to her since she was a girl, she hadn’t felt much affection.