Page 45 of The Price of Forever

The VIP room door swung open and I straightened, eyeing the latest release. A very tall, very thin man stumbled out, smoothing the front of his polo shirt. He eyed me briefly before wandering away.

Jordan poked her head out a moment later, smiling coyly.

“All right, Seven.” She tipped her head toward the interior of the VIP room. “It’s your turn.”

My brows drew together. “What?”

“Come on in.”

The confusion didn’t leave me, but I did as she said. She shut the door, drowning out the thumping music from the main stage.

“Aren’t you done in here?”

“Actually, the next block is yours, if you want it.” She smiled sweetly, sauntering toward the pole in the center of the room. Her calves flexed sexily under the low lighting. “The guy who booked this spot originally didn’t show up. So we’ll just pretend it’s taken until the next one.”

Some of my confusion dissipated and I glanced down at the couch behind me. Sitting down did sound nice. “Does this need to be sprayed down? You had a lot of admirers in here tonight.”

She laughed, hanging onto the pole with one hand as she started a lazy circle. “There’s no bodily fluids, come on. Everyone behaves themselves.”

“Just checking.” I smoothed my tie against my shirt before I sat down. She circled the pole. “I’m surprised you don’t need a break by now. You’ve been going nonstop tonight.”

She heaved a sigh, then shook her head. “If I sit down for too long, I won’t get back up again.” Her gaze drifted my way, locking on to me in a way that made my balls tighten. “It’s best to just keep my momentum up.”

I relaxed into the couch, propping an arm behind my head. Her gaze didn’t leave me. And I couldn’t stop looking at her.

Something unspoken throbbed between us. I had a feeling it had started building earlier that day. We’d cracked something open in my kitchen—at least I had. I never told anyone about my mom and her shitty ex-husbands. But there was something about Jordan that begged me to try new things. Be vulnerable. Open up.

And when she focused that blue-gray gaze on me, I was helpless.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked me.

I shook my head. “You know the rules.”

“Not even water?”

“I’m hydrated enough. What about you?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She leaned her back against the pole, facing me directly. Wheels were turning inside her head, but I couldn’t tell what she was mulling over. A few moments of silence passed, broken only by the muted undertones of the music outside.

“I have a weird question to ask.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what you said, needing to bring in more money…” She bit her bottom lip, gaze drifting to the floor. She was a living, breathing pin-up girl. Sometimes when I looked at her, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

I rubbed my chin, trying to focus. “Right.”

“I was trying to come up with a new routine. I was wondering if I could…try it out on you.”

I didn’t want to misunderstand this. Or read too much into it. “Like…”

“Like I’ll pretend you’re a regular customer in the VIP lounge,” she finished for me. “You don’t think it’ll be too weird, right?”

I cleared my throat, tapping my fist against my mouth. “No. This is your job. Why would it be weird?”

She nodded, looking relieved. But she was brimming with nervousness, which I didn’t understand. Unless she was planning on introducing a trapeze act into her routine, what could possibly be so new and different for her?

Jordan stepped off the mini stage in the center of the room and strutted my way. She fingered a long, slender cylinder that hung around a chain between her breasts. She stopped between my legs, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

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