And besides them were the other usual suspects, bachelor parties and guys just out on their own for the night, lining up around the stage for a chance to look, but not touch.
On the stage, two girls were grinding against each other, pretending like they were going to kiss and then giggling coyly while dollars rained down on them from every direction. Derrick couldn't focus on them, though. Nor could he appreciate the barely-clad cocktail waitresses or even the moments when the mobsters seemed to be talking about something other than whether they could get the girls on stage to take off their clothes.
Instead, he was consumed by thoughts-and worries-of Jade.
The more time went by, the more he knew this wasn't right, that she shouldn't be here. He even had half a mind to blow their cover, walk back there, and take her home himself.
For Christ's sake, what was she thinking? Even if she wasn't going to dance, did she know the way these men were going to look at her? Like she was a piece of meat? Like she was just fodder for their next fantasy?
His fists clenched just thinking about it, and he gritted his teeth, trying to come up with a strategy. When she came out, he could just go to the truck and listen in to the bug he'd planted near the mobsters. But then he'd be leaving her here, defenseless.
Alone with these sexual vultures.
But then matters were out of his hands as she appeared from behind a curtain, dressed in sleek white stockings, tiny powder blue panties, and a matching crystal studded bra that highlighted the hourglass curve of her frame and her ample cleavage.
As if it hadn't been hard enough for him to not oogle her in the car on the way over, now she was dressed for nothing less than torture. His mouth watered just looking at her, and, unbidden, he imagined just how easy it might be to slide the fabric of her bra aside and take one of her nipples into his mouth and suck until she moaned his name...
Like a dancer, she walked through the floor, smiling at the men at each table like she was a natural. Like she'd been trained to be the stuff of fantasy. And she was. The Cinderella of the strip club.
And, just like a princess, she drew every eye in the room. It was as though the girls on the stage were forgotten, and nobody cared about anything but the beauty traipsing across the room and headed straight for the mobsters.
They noticed, too. While two guys bit their thumbs, the leader of the group summoned her over and rubbed his lap, inviting her to take a seat.
Derrick's jaw ticked as he watched her smile at them more broadly, almost sit down, and then get back up again.
Good. Hard to get. All she needs to do is keep that up and then...
And then what? He could avoid committing a homicide?
He tried to slide a little closer in the leather seat to see what was happening, but as soon as they were in earshot a girl with auburn waves of hair and a pretty, heart-shaped face straddled him. "You look lonely. Want some company? Maybe a dance?"
He glanced at the girl, barely noticing her, and shook her off. "What? No. I just-"
He almost pointed to Jade, but she was gone, the mobsters looking less than thrilled in her wake.
"Right, well, I'll be around Handsome."
She slid from his lap and Derrick craned around, doing his best to try and find Jade. Maybe she'd gone to get them drinks or-
"And now, it's our pleasure to welcome to the stage the very sexy Dai-sy." The announced called over a song with a heavy guitar beat, and then the spotlight was on the little break between mirrors, shining on straight blonde hair that cascaded all the way down to the stripper's firm, rounded bottom.
No, not the stripper's. Jade's.
"Fuck," Derrick muttered, then glanced at the mob guys who were already getting their wallets out and heading for the stage.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." he'd known this was a bad idea. Fumbling for his own wallet, he scrambled from his table and made for the stage as Jade strutted toward the pole.
Just stay there. Just don't-
She caressed the metal bar up and down, then wrapped a leg around it and swung in a little circle, her hair flying behind her in the breeze. As she gyrated and moved, he could think of nothing but those grubby men's hands on her, the way they bit their knuckles. The way they thought they could own her just like everything else.
He pulled money from his wallet and beckoned her over with it, and, dropping to her knees, she crawled across the stage toward him and his cock stiffened as he caught sight of her. As he imagined her doing this on the floor of his bedroom just before she took him into her mouth and...
"What are you doing?" she hissed when she finally reached him, then she whipped her hair behind her and shook her ass.
"We need to get out of here," he hissed back, and then stuck a twenty in her G-string.
"Have we been made?" she asked, glancing toward the security guard. The man made a motion for her to get the action going, and she offered him a tense grin.
"No, but there's another way to do this. Come on, let's go." He almost reached out to touch her as she turned to face the mobsters, but eh held back.
"You don't think that'd be suspicious? If we just left?" she asked.
"I think..." He rummaged in his wallet, then pulled out two hundred-dollar bills and waved them at the bouncer before stuffing them into the side of Jade's panties. He made a motion to the doorman for them to go, and the man nodded.
"Woah, big spender," the announcer called, then continued, "Next to the stage, we've got the glamorously sexy Cry-stal!"
"What the hell?" she asked, but this time he really did grab her arm and lead her back to one of the curtained off rooms, free from prying eyes.
"We're doing things my way now."
"And what's your way involve? Getting us both killed?" she spat, but then he drew the thick black curtains closed, spun around, and kissed her as hard and as deep as he could.
Chapter 6
His kiss consumed her. Commanded her in a way she'd never felt before.
This wasn't the chaste kiss of a man who didn't know where he stood. Nor was it the overly tender kiss of an admirer.
This was all need, all passion, and before she could process how to feel about who and what and where she was, she was responding to him, breathing in his earthy masculine smell. Wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer to her aching breasts.
But no.
This was Derrick, Derrick Archer, her best friend. Her partner.
And more than that, was this how she wanted things to be between them? If she was going to be with him-and she definitely wasn't committing to that one way or the other-than did she want it to be now? When she was barely dressed and in the middle of a strip club?
She stepped back, then stumbled and fell onto the U-shaped leather couch behind her. It was buttery soft, and she leaned her forearms on the fabric to catch her fall, and then to catch her breath.
A single Edison bulb hung from the ceiling, but the light was enough for her to see the hunger in Derrick's dark eyes. Enough for her to make out the way his jaw ticked as his gaze raked over her.
"What's going on? You're going to get us-"
"I don't care." He bit the words out one by one, like each was harder to say than the last.
"But-"
"I don't care," he said again, and then she noticed the way his hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white.
"Derrick-"
"I want you."
She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. Slowly, she stared back at this man-her friend-and took in the way he stared at her chest, at the tiny silk panties covering her from his view.
A jolt of awareness shot through her and for an instant she wanted to spread her legs apart, let him get a better look at her panties, let him imagine what was underneath.
With a quick glance, she flicked her gaze to his crotch and assessed his hard arousal. There was no denying it was there, long and hot and waiting for her.
Derrick.
"I don't know what to say," she choked out.
"Don't say anything." He took a step toward her, then settled onto the couch beside her. Leaning closer, he wrapped a tendril of her hair about his finger and then cupped her neck, bringing her closer to him.
She could feel the heat of his minty breath on her cheeks, and instantly her eyelids fluttered closed and she readied herself to taste him again. Too quickly, all thought of Zac, all thought of their jobs, all thought of the strip club was disappearing. They were just a man and a woman in a darkly lit room with nobody to interfere. Nobody to see.
She didn't care about the clink of glasses or the sound of the raunchy music on the other side of the curtain. She only cared about the way his hand scorched the back of her neck, of the way his touch made her scalp tingle, her toes curl in anticipation.
He was only a millimeter away now. His lips would be on hers any second.
"Derrick," she breathed.
"Yes?"
"What if everything changes?"