When a struggling Broadway talent agent reluctantly agrees to represent a male stripper, she finds out there's more to her new client than oiled abs.
Season 1 of Strip in the City
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Today might be the worst day of my life. I just lost my biggest c...
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Tanushree was already being sat down in a chair onstage by Iceman, but I was still staring at West's hand, paralyzed by fear and the press of his dark brown eyes.
Even though my brain was trying to convince me this was a horrible idea, my body thought it was a fantastic idea. I hadn't been properly touched in six months, and something told me this man knew exactly what to do.
But, how could I let a man that gorgeous grind all over me on stage? He was a prospective client. I'd never be able to talk to him again without thinking about this body or other parts of him. I couldn't represent a man that pulled my hair back and rode me like a pony.
Then I caught myself. Tanushree's plan to make West my next client was dead in the water. I couldn't represent a stripper. A bartender, sure. But not an actual stripper.
All this was bouncing around in my head while I stared into his soulfully brown eyes.
As if West could sense my discomfort, he slid off the stage and dropped to his knees in front of my seat—like this had been part of the act. Fresh screams from the women around me came. He was so tall that even on his knees we were face to face.
West pushed his sunglasses onto his head so I could see the full force of his electric smile as it crinkled around almond-shaped eyes. Everything inside my core turned molten. I was inhumanly attracted to this man.
My heart was pounding in my ears.
One of his warm hands went behind my neck, and the other brushed back my hair as he leaned in. "Do you wanna do this?" he asked. "Because you can say no."
His deep voice vibrated from my ear drum straight between my legs. Pleasure and excitement rocketing through me. Fuck Tommy. If anyone was a vagina whisper, it was West. A handful of words and I was wetter than the Hudson. But, that was his job, I told myself. To thrill women and be their wildest fantasy.
West added, "You're safe with me, Maren. Remember? I've got you."
I remembered feeling safe with him when he'd saved me from the pool, but right now, I was feeling...something different.
Mainly...hot.
He even smelled delicious, like sandalwood and bergamot. His glistening chest was like a pheromone factory.
I set down my sparkly drink and sat up straighter in my seat, decision made. Tomorrow, I'd go into the office and make a new plan to relaunch my business. Tonight, I'd give myself permission to have a little fun.
I turned my face into his, our noses brushing together.
"Okay," I told West, nodding to show I trusted him. I expected him to lift me up and carry me on stage, but that's not what happened.
He sat back on his heels, taking in the lines of my body while biting his lower lip. I squirmed under the steady press of his eyes as he studied each line and curve. Then his hands traced the outline of my calves with firm pressure, gliding up until he reached my knees.
