Page 20 of Watch Me

I whirl to face him “You invited him to watch us?”

I’m glad I’ve managed to parlay my shock into actual words quickly. Because once I see his casual black shirt unbuttoned all the way down the front, exposing a healthy glimpse of steel-hard pecs and smooth bronze skin, I lose my train of thought.

“Of course. He is one of the newer regulars, and he was here last week. Think of him as a potential suspect.”

His reply has my gaze bouncing back up to his face, where a hint of a smile plays. The bastard knows I’ve been staring at his chest.

I need dispassion, not lust. Focus. “He had no idea who I was. No concept that I’m Kristoff's partner.”

“Not that he let on. But if he was guilty, why would he tip his hand?”

Good question. One for which I have no answer.

“You’re not required to play this scene. Do you want to change your mind?”

He’s wrong; I’m absolutely required to play this scene, at least if I want to win the competition and hold that trophy in my hand after two decades of hard work. But that’s not the only reason. If I want to know what it feels like to have people truly watch me, I have to go through with this. And if I want to feel pleasure in this man’s arms… Well, I can’t chicken out.

“Lead the way.”

With a slow nod, Alejandro grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, then leads me down the hall. Despite my nerves, I have a hard time ripping my gaze from his tight ass, displayed so mouth-wateringly in black slacks. The view alone makes me want to jump him.

I need to slow down. This sexual fixation isn't like me. Being too into Alejandro isn’t a good idea, either. I’m not interested in flings, and a guy who co-owns a club like Sneak Peek probably doesn't do relationships.

Tearing my gaze from him as we file down the hall, I notice open doors containing offices with computers manned by focused staff members. A wall clock says it’s ten ’til nine.

The butterflies in my stomach are head-banging and have set up a rager. Despite my excitement and curiosity, I’m anxious. Will I throw up before Alejandro and I even start?

He stops in front of a door, peering at me as if he can read my thoughts. “Relax. You’ll be great. We’ll handle this together.”

“Why are you being nice?”

He cocks a brow, the strong angles of his face dusted by shadow and stubble. The frankly sexual stare he sends me makes me suck in my breath.

“Certainly, it hasn’t escaped your notice that I want you.”

How could it when that thrills me so much? I shake my head.

“I’m also determined to catch the scum taking advantage of our members. You need to catch him, too, so Kristoff’s video doesn't fall into the judges’ hands. Tonight will be a win-win for us both.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“I suspect you're not the untouchable ice queen you want me—and everyone else—to believe.” A wolfish grin crawls across his face. “But I intend to find out tonight for sure. Personally, I think we’ll be fire together.”

Before I can slap up the armor he’s verbally stripped away, he stows my purse, pushes the door open, and struts through.

We enter the room I observed yesterday. But things have changed. Someone pushed the chrome bed to the shadowed edge of the stage, nearly out of sight. The rest of the furniture is gone, leaving a large swath of the painted concrete floor well-lit and totally empty.

The bedding is different as well. Luxurious white and silvery linens with fluffy pillows decorate the bed, looking sumptuous on top of the pale downy blanket. A far cry from yesterday’s stark black dungeon vibe.

“What's this?” I ask him.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable if we changed up the room to something softer. Something more…you.”

Normally, I would protest his judgment that I’m soft. But he's right; the look of the room does reflect me. How much of the deep-down me does he see?

Maybe it’s not smart, but I'm touched that he went to the extra effort. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Come with me.” Alejandro tugs me to the edge of the stage. Deep in gray shadows, I spot a lone, imposing figure.

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