Two is a Lie(70)
It’s been so long I probably look like a fumbling amateur, but the movements feel second-nature. Pole dance is rooted in belly dance, after all. In the era of traveling sideshows, belly dancers undulated on the tent poles to draw crowds for the shows. And like belly dance, I find it impossible to dance on a pole and not feel sexy doing it. Every movement fosters a carnal emotion that can turn an innocent girl into a seductive temptress.
The temptress in me has definitely been unleashed. I push my butt out as I climb, splitting my legs open and arching into a deep back bend that inverts my body and gives me an upside-down view of the kitchen doorway.
And the two pairs of legs standing on either side of it.
My breath hitches, and my grip slips. I quickly tighten my fingers, stopping myself from plunging face first to the floor.
Slowly flipping back to my feet, I grip the pole for balance and look between Trace and Cole. “How long have you been here?”
Trace stands ramrod straight, hands behind his back and head angled down, taking in my half-naked body with a scowl in his brow.
“A couple minutes.” Cole rubs the back of his neck, his voice low and thick as he peruses me from head to toe. “How are you feeling?”
“Fantastic.” Rags of air heave from my exerted lungs. “Thank you, both of you, for taking care of me.”
It’s strange that they’re both here, when they weren’t a few minutes ago.
“Did you guys just happen to arrive at the same time?” I rub my sweaty hands on my thighs. “Or were you together somewhere this morning?”
“We had a meeting,” Trace says at the same time Cole blurts, “We grabbed breakfast.”
“A breakfast meeting.” Trace glares at Cole and returns to me. “Why?”
“You had breakfast together?” I cross my arms. “For what reason?”
Did Cole tell Trace we had sex? A spike of fear chills my skin. I don’t want to keep secrets, but it’s…delicate. I need to be the one to tell him.
“We’re trying to figure this out.” Cole gestures from me to Trace to himself, drawing an invisible triangle.
“Really?” My tone is dry as I fidget with the beaded bra to ensure my chest is covered. “What did you figure out?”
“That you should pole dance,” Cole says. “Every day. Just for me.”
I wing up my brows and pinch my lips together.
“I think…” Trace breathes in slowly. “We think this situation is making you sick. Your health is a concern. If we push you for a decision, it’ll likely make you sicker.”
“But I’m dragging this out.” I clutch my throat. “I can’t—”
“It’s only been a couple weeks, Danni.” Cole rests his hands on his hips. “You’ve been sick half that time. Give yourself a break.”
“I’m trying.” I lift my fingers to the pole and walk a circle around it while working up the nerve to ask them about the holidays. “Thanksgiving is next week.”
Neither of them have families. No one to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with.
They watch me steadily, their expressions giving nothing away.
“Bree’s having turkey dinner at her house.” I release the pole and hug my waist. “Would it be weird if I invited you both?”
“I’d love to go.” Cole, impulsive as always, offers me an eager smile. Then he pushes off the wall and disappears beyond the doorway of the spare bedroom.
I share a look with Trace, taking in the sculpted lines of his face.
He rolls his lips, reading my eyes, and nods. “I’ll be there for dinner.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “Our first Thanksgiving together.”
A second later, Cole returns with my seven-inch platform stilettos dangling from a finger by the ankle straps.
Oh shit. He wasn’t joking about wanting me to dance for him.
I shoot another look at Trace. “I don’t think this is a good—”
“I’m not asking.” Cole squats at my feet and holds out his palm, waiting.
Trace rests his fingers in his pockets and holds up the wall with his back. He would never complain about me dancing. Hell, he put me on a stage in his casino in a glowing beam of light.
I blow out a breath, ruffling the hair away from my face. Then I give in and place a foot in Cole’s hand.
He slides on the stiletto, buckling the strap around my ankle. As he moves to the other foot, his fingers trail softly up the back of my calf.
An exquisite shiver races up my leg, and my eyes flutter closed. He does it again, and I have to gulp down a moan. I can’t let him do this. Not with Trace watching.
“That’s enough.” Trace’s voice cuts through the air, cold and sharp.