Page 2 of Reclaimed

My fingers hover over the screen as I glance up at the woman swiveling her shapely ass at the attuned audience. This brotherly conversation fizzles into the background of my consciousness at the sight of her.

A stringy, crisscrossed contraption barely holds onto her sparkly, flushed tits that appear seconds away from spilling out of the top. The sequins glitter in the spotlight as she twirls and tips back on the pole. Her thick legs go on for miles in black thigh high stiletto boots. Images of the leather wrapped around my waist invade my mind.

Fuck.

I toss back a swallow and retrieve my phone to respond to Corjan.

Me:

Not available. Maybe next weekend

Or not. Habit dictates I’ll be sitting right in this very spot, fighting once again against my dick getting hard.

Because for some unknown reason, watching Isla up there brings me a sense of tranquility I didn’t know I’d ever feel again.

She finishes her set with a crawl across the stage while grimy, unworthy men slip dollars beneath the band of her cheeky panties. I toss a twenty up onto the raised platform and stride out the rear exit door.

I don’t like this next part. I never stay once she finishes her set.

The thought of watching which motherfucker gets a private dance fills me with such a swift jealousy that I need to leave. But the idea of buying one for myself feels so fucking invasive I can’t allow the thought to linger for more than a handful of seconds.

We’re too acquainted for a casual lap dance. Over the years our circles have overlapped. She’s best friends with my brother’s wife, after all.

A cloud of smoke billows from the outside, the acrid smell of cigarettes clogging the fresh, night air. Fighting the urge to curl my lip in disgust, I move beneath the yellowed light aimed at the parking lot. The pair beside me trade laughs before stamping out the cigarette and returning indoors.

A soothing breeze stirs a few leaves across the cement, and I glance up at the starry sky just as the door beside me opens.

I swallow down an exhale of surprise.

She doesn’t notice me beneath the light, but I’d have to be blind not to notice her. It’s as if her soft soul reaches out to mine, stroking me back to life. In fact, I haven’t been this close to her since she left three years ago, and my heart beats quicker at her unexpected nearness.

The end of her pony swishes across her upper back, now covered in an oversized gray sweatshirt, as she walks past.

“Isla Fitzgerald.” Pure grit drips from my voice, as if I haven’t spoken aloud in twenty-four hours rather than one.

She stops and throws her chin to her shoulder. I watch her gaze track to the now-closed door before returning to my face. A mask quickly covers her look of surprise.

An eyebrow ticks up her forehead. “Powell.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. There’s six of us, you know.” I push off the bricks at my back.

That pink, pouty mouth twists. “Aiden.”

“You remember me.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “My best friend married your brother. You boys are really not that hard to keep straight.”

Considering only two of us are blood-related siblings, she’s not wrong. The six of us were unconventionally adopted by our mom, Nancy, and Terrance, who passed away not long after I joined the family. I went from losing my father, only to lose the guy meant to step into that role all within a few years.

“Does Juniper know you’re back in town?”

“She does.” A hesitant edge accompanies her response. “Why?”

I shrug, biting back the grin rising to the surface. The motion is unfamiliar after so many weeks without one. “Just curious.”

“Well aren’t you as evasive as ever.”

“Am I?”

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