“Dance … for me.” He cocks his head.
I rub my lips together and nod, hoping to God that he didn’t see me grab his phone.
His fingers slowly relax, and he takes a step back. “Why?”
“Because … I owe you one,” I say. “Because of what I did. What my sister did.”
I step forward and place my hand on his chest. He flinches but doesn’t step away. Just the tips of my fingers are enough to feel his thick muscles tightening as I touch them.
I swallow away the lump in my throat as I softly push him back, guiding him to the chair next to the window. I nudge him until he falls into the chair and press a button on the radio on the table next to him, switching channels until I find something sexy.
Then I start to dance.
His eyes completely focused on me.
Mesmerized by my sleek movements as I show him my curves.
Deliciously distracted.
As I turn around, I breathe a sigh of relief, glad that he can’t see through my lie. Then again, now I’ll have to dance for him … and maybe more because I don’t think he’s going to let me off the hook this easily.
I twist and shake and show him all my best moves, desperate to win him over, but he’s solid as a rock, his hands twisted around the armrest like he’s trying to contain himself … and it’s making me want to dance even harder.
I want to prove to him that he’s not as closed off as he thinks.
I could see the way he looked at me behind that curtain, how he looks at me now with those needy eyes.
I know what he wants … Me.
***
Viktor
I’m possessed by her.
I don’t know how else to describe it, but the moment she started dancing, I was hooked.
I can’t stop watching.
Can’t stop wanting more …
Yet she pisses me off to no end.
Why? I don’t know. I blame it on the fact she was in my room. She says she came to dance, but I don’t believe her. I think she was looking for something, and that only makes this dance more aggravating … because it’s all a fucking lie.
Except her eyes … They sparkle when she looks at me; they tell me there’s more to this than just a distraction. She’s getting into it, dancing with the flow; her sultry, black-lined eyes open and close slowly as she touches herself just as sensually. The way her hands move across her hips and her breasts peak at the sight of my tongue dipping out to wet my lips make me think she likes this just as much as I do.
She won’t admit it, though, and neither will I.
So I’ll just keep sitting here, looking at her while digging my nails into the wood of the chair to stop myself from doing stupid things I’ll regret. And she’ll keep dancing and think I’m falling for her little trick, and I’ll let her believe that.
After all, Winston told me to be nice.
She bites her lip, and it sparks something inside me. It reminds me of that night she danced for me. That same night I knew she was the first girl I wanted to see twice. The only girl I’d ever trust to step back into my house again. The only girl who didn’t fear me.
The only girl who could ever win my trust.
She comes closer, her curves bouncing in my face, making me hyperaware of her body invading my private space. It’s not something I’m used to. Hell, I can’t remember the last time a woman touched me … except just now.
When her fingers nudged my chest, I could feel it in my entire fucking body. I fucking froze up for a second, my dick almost instantly hardening from her touch.
I never thought I’d get that sensitive. Then again, it’s no wonder. It’s been a long time.
Now, she’s in my face, swaying that ass in my general direction, and I’m fucking aroused. I shouldn’t be because she’s only doing this to distract me, but I am.
I fucking love it.
I love every minute of her dance, of having her all to myself. When she’s dancing, it’s like the world disappears and there’s only her and me.
Her and that delicious offer she’s making me … her body oozing sex.
It’s all I can think about.
My cock is already hard when she suddenly sits on my lap and gyrates, stimulating me to no end. Fuck me. How am I supposed to resist this?
I can’t. I fucking can’t. Not when she looks at me with eyes that show her interest.
She wants to know me just as much as I want to know her.
And it’s fucking me up.
I shouldn’t want to know her. She’s a lawbreaker. A violator. Someone who adores the attention. And then there’s me … the loner, the pessimistic asshole who took her freedom because he was selfish.
I wonder if she regrets her decision to trade her life for her sister’s.