Page 4 of Infatuate Me

“Pardon?”

“I want you,” he says, no shame.

I’m unsure what to say as he stares me down, his gaze making me feel hot.

“I want to pay for a lap dance,” he says, and this is where I stump him, because I may work the floor, but I don’t do lap dances. I don’t mind dancing in front of one of the guys, but actually sitting on their sweaty laps and having them breathe on me, their breath stinking of alcohol, no thanks. I could make far more if I did, or if I used one of the private rooms to give a private show, but again, I haven’t ever felt the need to do that. I know the pay would be huge, but I just haven’t ever crossed that line.

“I’m afraid I don’t do those, but I’ll call one of the other girls who I’m sure will be more than happy to fulfil your request.” I go to walk off, but I feel his hand slide around my wrist, his fingers locking me in place. I look down, and I know that if I were to scream right now, security would throw his arse out of here before he could blink, but… something stops me from doing that.

“You’re not allowed to touch,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. He hears me, I know he does, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“I’m taking a chance that you’ll let it slide,” he says, pinning me with his gorgeous deep blue eyes. Fuck. Am I going to let it slide? Am I going to throw caution to the wind and allow this man to do something other patrons have been tossed out for? Am I really entertaining the idea of giving him a lap dance too?

Am I so fucking hot for him that I want to do this?

Am I really going to jump on my dad’s best friend’s lap and give him the dance of his life?

I feel something akin to the devil rear up inside of me, and with a slow smile, I set out my terms.

Chapter Six

DOMINIC

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you,” I tell her, realising I could come across as fucking seedy but hoping that I don’t. I just want to feel what it’s like in this moment, one where only the two of us know she works here, one where I can actually get away with having her this close.

Fuck, what am I thinking?

I shouldn’t be doing this. She’s twenty-fucking-years old, for Christ’s sake.

But then she speaks, putting my doubts on pause as she says, “I don’t come cheap.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” I tell her, not missing a beat.

“Three thousand for one dance.”

“Done.” Again, no hesitation. She visibly balks at my easy answer, the indecision waring in her eyes.

“One song,” she states.

“Okay.”

If she thinks she’s going to put me off of this idea, she’s sadly mistaken. I just hope she doesn’t think I’m a fucking sleaze, because that’s the last thing I want her to think about me.

“And after this, you promise not to tell a soul that I work here, and that’s includes my father,” she tells me.

“I thought you didn’t care about him knowing?” I challenge.

“Just call it a little insurance,” she says, with a sweet smile on her face. I can’t help the chuckle that leaves me, because I always knew she’d be a firecracker with her words, as well as her looks, but damn, she’s got me in a chokehold without even trying.

“Is that all of the ground rules?” I ask her, my fingers still wrapped around her wrist and my thumb running up and down her smooth, soft skin.

She nods. “So, sit back, Mr Chambers, because you’re about to be given one hell of a dance,” she tells me, and I begrudgingly pull my fingers away from her skin, sitting back and placing my arms along the back of the booth.

Showtime.

Chapter Seven

CARRIE

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