Sienna could simply stand onstage batting her long eyelashes over her deep, mysterious eyes filled with innocence and promise, and the audience would be titillated, turned on, and amped up. How the hottest stripper in Vegas creates that look, no one understands or knows, but everyone wants to sneak a peek.
Sienna finished her act by blowing the crowd a kiss after turning herself right side up on the pole. She always took the time to look out at the crowd when she did this. She liked to see them smile, and feel the electric charge. She liked to know it was an act well done at the Electric Tunnel.
That was when she saw him. She didn’t know him, but had seen him in the Tunnel a few times over the last few weeks. Dark black hair cut short with a little wave running through it where it curled around his ear, a scratchy shadow on his face, a day or two old, and jeans with a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a masculine tattoo peeking out. He was always there on a Thursday or Friday, sat up front for her act, and quickly left when Sienna finished.
This wasn’t completely unusual, since many fans came to see just Sienna Flower regularly, but this guy seemed almost uncomfortable at the club, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there. Fidgeting in his seat, always running his hands through his hair and never smiling, yet being completely focused on her. He was her mystery guy, something she never had or thought about having before.
Most of her regular fans stopped her to say hello on the nights she walked the main floor of the club. They weren’t allowed to touch or take pictures, but most of them just wanted to tweet they met Sienna or be able to brag about meeting her at a party at a later date. Not this guy, though.
He just watched her on the nights she never made an appearance in the outer club, and when her set was over, he headed out. He didn’t even try to flash a grin her way, let alone meet her.
She wasn’t afraid of him; he didn’t give off that vibe. But Sienna was curious—she wanted to know why he didn’t smile. Was he nervous about being at the club?
He’s so big and masculine…there’s no way he could be afraid of overt sexuality.
Did he want to ask her something? Maybe he was a journalist? A writer? But he looked so strong and tough; he couldn’t be a writer.
His eyes, even from far away, were as captivating to her as many claimed her very own were to them. Deep brown like a chocolate bar begging to be savored, his eyes called to her. They were forceful, uncompromising eyes that had seen a lot. She envisioned they would hold pools of warmth, and a touch of sensitivity if you looked far enough into their depths.
Stop looking.
But Sienna couldn’t help herself. She looked back over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes for cover as she exited the stage, and as usual, the guy with the jet-black hair, the man who never smiled, was leaving the club. Giving her a perfect view of his ass.
Strangely, she was a bit saddened by his lack of response, his strict composure versus outright pleasure, and his avoidance in trying to meet her. Sienna made a mental note to mention it to Asher. Asher could get a read on the guy when he worked the room. If the guy came back.
But do I want him to?
CARSON GRAHAM shifted into fourth gear as he hightailed it away from the club toward his hotel. Why did he keep coming back to Vegas? Who the hell knew. If there was one thing he didn’t have any trouble finding or getting, it was willing women.
He knew women weren’t really “things.” They were interesting, often complicated creatures, and he both appreciated and respected them. He just happened to like women in his bed who came with no strings. It was the twenty-first century, after all, and there were plenty of women who liked that kind of deal.
He had never settled down, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. At closer to forty years old than thirty-five, he felt the bachelor life suited him just fine. Or maybe it was that he only deserved the single life. His particular circumstances hadn’t exactly set him up for success in the relationship department.
Picking up a little speed, he changed course and steered toward the mountains, needing more time to clear his head.
It would be great to be on his motorcycle right now, to be able to lean into the steep and winding curves, but it was back in his garage on the East Coast, grounded—just like his life at the moment. The sports car he’d rented here in Vegas would have to do.
As he shifted the engine into fifth gear the car jetted forward, allowing the tension to bleed from him with the increased RPMs. He was trying to drive away from the pull as fast as he could; the pull coming from an insanely gorgeous stripper he was lusting after in a big way.
There was something magnetic about Sienna Flower, dragging him in deeper and deeper. More than her sleek, toned body and her sensual moves when she wrapped herself around the pole, there was a draw deeper than the physical. Carson wasn’t a hard-up kind of guy. He never got like this over a woman. Ever.