over her lips as Vera gathered her skirts and headed out the door. “You go get ‘im, girl,” she called after her. “Make the boy wish he’d never been born with that thing between his legs.”
That was the whole idea. For now. But later, after they went home, she’d make him glad again. Oh, so very, very glad.
And her, too.
“There you are, my dear,” Lecherous Lou said when she swept into the VIP room.
Conner was standing next to him, looking too handsome for his own good. Damn, the man was fine, as Tawni would say. Broad shoulders; square jaw; long, hard, muscular legs; strong hands. And those eyes. She’d never known eyes so bone-quiveringly sexy as those hot-as-the-desert hazel ones gazing at her from under his perfectly shaped masculine brows. “Vera,” he said in greeting.
“Hello, Mr. Rothchild,” she said with demure formality. “Lou. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“I think you know what Mr. Rothchild would like, Vera,” Lou said. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.
She allowed herself a coy smile at her would-be lover. “I’m pretty sure that would be illegal. Wouldn’t want to get any of us into trouble with the law, would we?”
Those perfect brows flicked. She’d caught him by surprise. He’d been expecting her to flatly refuse, as she had yesterday.
“Of course not!” Lou blustered. “Nothing illegal. Just a standard lap dance, that’s all. The VS1 Special.”
Which was code for total nudity.
She swallowed.
She’d avoided this for so long that the words almost stuck in her throat. “All right,” she said.
Omigod, what was she doing?
What they both wanted. That’s what.
Lou almost fell over. He’d been expecting a total refusal, too, and to have to threaten her with her job. “Get lost,” she told him. “Before I change my mind.”
He was out the soundproof door, and the gauzy curtains were drawn closed faster than she could blink.
“Surprised?” she asked Conner when they were alone.
The lingering shock and the slight parting of his lips belied his causal stance. “I could have sworn you don’t do lap dances.”
“This isn’t a lap dance.”
“Strange. I’m pretty sure that’s what you just agreed to.”
She smiled. And took a step toward him. “Then, it’ll be our little secret—” and another step “—what we really do.”
That’s when he started to get nervous. And in spite of himself, excited. She could see his body reacting to the fantasies in his mind. The ones she’d planted there. “Vera? What’s going on?”
“I hope you’re prepared, Mr. Rothchild,” she said, lowering her voice to a throaty purr, and with one finger pushed him backward onto the divan. “To be seduced.”
Chapter 11
Vera seduced him slowly, minute by minute, inch by inch, the way she’d done onstage earlier. If Conner had any notion of resisting her, the man could just forget it.
She was an expert at very few things, but this was one of them. She knew how to make a man want her.
Not that he needed any help in that department. He’d made no secret of his desire to sleep with her. He hadn’t pressed her on it, but only because she’d told him no. The man was a true gentleman, just as he’d said.
And now he would get his reward.
Well. Sort of. She knew he’d do his damnedest to follow club rules and not touch her. It would be pure torture on him. Heck, for both of them. But it would make the coming night all the sweeter, once they got back to his place.
She adjusted the music to a low, bluesy song she loved, and took her place in the middle of the small room. He sat sprawled on the divan, looking like a tiger who couldn’t quite believe a kitten had wandered into his cage.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
Making her fall for him all the more.
“I want to,” she assured him. “Just relax and enjoy the show.”
“I already did. You were incredible onstage. It felt like I was the only man in the room and you were dancing just for me.”
“You were.” She smiled and started to sway her hips to the music. “And I was.”
His eyes darkened, his smile going sexy. “What brought on the change of heart?”
“You,” she said simply. And let her body take over.
She knew all the moves, but suddenly they had a whole new meaning for her. She wanted to seduce this man, body and soul. Wanted to entice him. Enthrall him. Make him pant. Make him sweat. Make him never, ever forget this dance of temptation…
Or her.
Slowly, she peeled off her wedding gown. Taking her time. Moving her body to the music. Teasing him. Provoking him. Making the anticipation last and last. Until she was left wearing only the lace corset, stockings and shoes. The G-string of tiny seed pearls she’d selected for tonight hardly counted as attire.
His gaze devoured her, lingering on the special wax job her line of work demanded.
“Like what you see?”
“I’d like it a whole lot better closer up.”
She smiled. “Yeah?”
He looked relaxed, arms lying along the back cushions of the sofa, his legs spread wide. But she knew it was a hard-won facade. There was a film of sweat on his forehead that had nothing to do with the outside night heat, and the pulse on the side of his throat throbbed wildly. Not to mention that solid ridge in the front of his pants. “Oh, yeah.”
She moved closer. He swallowed.
He couldn’t touch, but there were no such restrictions on her. She put a knee to each side of his, kneeling on the red leather divan with her hands on his shoulders, and straddled his lower thighs. Keeping distance between them.
“This better?” she asked.
“Not nearly close enough,” he murmured darkly.
The fabric of his suit was smooth and luxurious, cool to the touch. But the man in it was sizzling. She ran her fingers down his shirtfront. “Mmm. You’re hot,” she observed.
“Burning up,” he agreed.
She peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside. Loosened his tie.
