Page 62 of Rooster

"You've been before," I say, well aware it isn't exactly an answer.

"I have. It's always a good time."

"Do you want to go?"

She shrugs.

"How do you want me to answer?" I ask.

"Truthfully," she replies instantly.

"I don't like the idea of you going to a show and watching other men rip their clothes off, but I don't own you, Morgan."

Her eyes dart between both of mine as if she's trying to decide if I'm being completely honest.

"Is there a compromise?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She shrugs, but her mouth curls up into a smile.

"Playing coy, sweetheart?"

She chews the corner of her bottom lip, and I fucking ache to kiss this woman again.

"Not trying to," she whispers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she lifts a finger to her mouth, pressing the nail against her teeth.

"I thought we were being honest with each other," I say, inching closer and watching her pupils grow larger.

I run a single finger up her arm, and my cock jerks in my jeans with the way she jolts from the simple touch. I have no doubt we're going to be fucking explosive in bed. Her body is so reactive to the simplest of things. I can't wait to see how she reacts when I actually put some work into pleasing her.

"What's the compromise?" I prod again.

"I don't go to the show, but I still get a show," she says, her eyes locked on my mouth as if she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her.

"You want me to hire the guys to come here?"

She shakes her head, teeth once again digging into her lower lip as her hand reaches up and presses against my chest.

"I want you to dance for me."

Of all the damn things she could've said, she chose the one thing that I might say no to.

"I'm not a stripper," I remind her, taking a step back but freezing when her fingers tangle in the fabric of my shirt, preventing me from going very far. "That actually takes a lot of skill and rhythm and coordination."

"You could do the chicken dance, and it would be sexy," she argues.

I consider how much fun she seemed to have even though I sucked at darts and think that she may be telling me the truth.

"Are you wanting me to embarrass myself for you?"

She shakes her head. "Of course not. I'm not asking to make you uncomfortable. I thought it would be a good time, but if you really don’t want to do it—"

"Then you'll go to the show with the others?" I ask, a sinking feeling settling in my gut. I don't do well with ultimatums. I never have.

"Fuck no," she says, her cute little nose scrunching up. "I have no interest in going to watch a bunch of oiled-up strippers on stage. I want to spend time with you even if you're clothed and not dancing."

I close the distance between the two of us, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against me.

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