Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

11 • Hot Admission

I shook my head, trying not to laugh, but it was impossible. "Absolutely not."

Maren made a disappointed face that had me wanting to spare her delicate feelings. She'd gone through so much rejection in her life from her family and her gaslighting ex–and then there was the whole viral social media hashtag–I didn't want her to think Romeo was rejecting her help. He didn't want to work with anyone.

"It has nothing to do with you," I explained. When I saw Maren and West were waiting for me to elaborate, I shrugged a shoulder and added, "He just seems like someone who likes his routine."

His single, hot, unsmiling routine.

West chuckled. "His routine could use some work. Just saying." His gaze left mine and found Maren's. "Maybe it's time for Romeo to switch things up because stripping is to turn your clients on. Not start an on-stage fist fight."

"Be nice," Maren snipped back, giving West a playful shove. "Tan said he was better one-on-one. Maybe they just need a new choreographer."

Well, Maren inferred a lot from my comment, but I wasn't about to correct her. At least, not when she was about to start making out with her boyfriend again.

West grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest. "Easy there, feisty pants."

The way they looked at each other was too cute for words. For a second, I imagined what it would be like to have Romeo's tattooed arms wrapped around me, holding me against his muscled chest like West was holding Maren. His soft pink lips whispering filthy things in my ear.

The thought caused goosebumps to prickle on my arms as I let that fantasy play out. Maybe I'd say something in return that earned one of his rare smiles before he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me to bed like a sexy Viking.

When I realized I was staring into the distance, biting my lip, I shook off the sex haze and instructed my imagination to sit the fuck down. This wasn't helpful.

I refocused my attention back on West and Maren and had to clear my throat to get them to stop making dreamy eyes at each other.

"Either way," I said, crossing my arms, "I don't think Romeo wants to change his routine."

Luckily, Maren took the disappointment in my voice the wrong way. She thought I was disappointed for her–which I was–but I was also disappointed...for me.

"Well, that sucks, but we can check Blanche's off our list and move on to the next club."

West handed Maren her purse, then tossed me the Blanche's Brawds shirt Rhonda gifted me earlier, which I draped over my arm.

We were leaving the row of fold-down seats when Maren asked, "Please tell me the lap dance was decent and not totally awkward. He could find the beat, right?"

Could Romeo find the beat? Oh, he could do more than find the beat. He was the beat.

I pushed a hand through my hair, and my bangles slid down my arm. Should I lie or tell her the truth? I'd already told her one lie today about making principal, and I didn't want to keep the best sex of my life from my best friend. We told each other everything when it came to our love life. Everything.

So, I decided to go for honesty.

I couldn't help but grin. "Funny story. I didn't get a lap dance."

Maren and West both stared back at me in open-mouthed surprise. "What do you mean? You were in there for forty-five minutes. I know you weren't in there talking about me the whole time. Were you?"