Page 29 of The Devil's Deal

“A girl should always know how to stand up for herself,” I tell her.

“You’re right.” She flips her hair past her shoulder with the back of her hand. “I’m going to start taking self-defense classes with this trainer at my gym. He’s an ex-MMA fighter. And he’s cute! You should join me. He may love throwing you around a little.” She wags her eyes deviously.

“I’m not looking for that.”

“Oh, please! You’re talking to me here.” She gestures at herself with a thumb. “I know how long it’s been.”

“Why do I tell you things?” I roll my eyes playfully, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“Because you love me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Get back to work. I think you’re up next.”

“Fine.” She backs away, the crystals from her lime-green bra sparkling underneath the colorful overhead LED lights. “But just in case you change your mind, his name is Frank, and his arms aren’t the only big thing about him.” She winks with a curve of her red lips. “Come to the gym and see for yourself.”

I narrow an icy stare her way, shaking my head with a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. She turns from me, and before she heads up on the stage, I call out her name.

She looks back, popping a brow.

“Text me the number.” I don’t have to marry the man to have a little bit of fun.

She grins. “You got it.”

The emcee introduces her just as she seductively climbs up the steps, grabbing the pole and spinning around it once, before her legs hold on tight and don’t let go.

I whirl back around, intending to head for my office, but instead I walk straight into a brick wall.

Well, not a wall, exactly. More like a man with a chest that feels harder than rock.

His hazel eyes flick to mine, connecting in an extreme stare. Why the hell is he staring at me like I killed his favorite puppy? Maybe if I were someone else, I’d even be a little afraid of him, but I’m not. I’ve known men far worse than he could possibly be.

But just as quickly as his harsh expression came, it vanishes, replaced with a flirty jerk of his full, dangerously sexy lips.

“Excuse me,” I blurt out in irritation, staring at his chiseled face and the soft brown hues of his eyes.

The corded muscle of his bicep flinches just slightly, straining from within his light blue short-sleeved t-shirt. An intricate tattoo is wrapped around the length of his right arm, stretching up from his knuckles. I try to coyly make it out, but it’s hard to see anything beyond the thorny vines, black roses, and a skull.

He doesn’t bother moving out of the way, not that I really want him to. I bite the inside of my cheek. Desire to run my nails over his buzz cut while riding his face has my core in a state of frenzy.

The man is hot.

Sorry, Pat. This girl may be riding a different joystick tonight.

“You handled that well back there,” he finally says, over the wave of thundering music, the tone of his voice draped in a sensual rasp as he gestures with his chin toward where the incident from earlier took place.

I prop a hand on my hip, lifting a brow. “You sound surprised. What? Never seen a woman handle her shit before?”

He chuckles low and deep, his gaze slipping to my lips before crawling back up to my eyes. “Never that well.”

Warmth pools at my core from the way he gazes at me, from the way the words fall from his lips as though he’s reading a poem rather than just speaking simple words.

I let my eyes roam down the length of him, letting him know he wasn’t subtle when he took an obvious peek at my lips, and I’m not about to be either. Maybe I really should fuck him. He looks like he’d know just what to do.

I clear my throat. “Maybe you haven’t been around the right women, then.”

I’m met with the most awfully handsome lopsided grin. And he even has a fucking dimple like Dom once did, except his were on both sides.

I pull in a small breath, swallowing down the tightening throb in my throat. As I raise my chin and straighten my spine, my attention reverts back to the sexy stranger.

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