a deep breath and a swivel of her hips, she reminded herself that in addition to being a decade older, she was wearing a damn good disguise. And even if she weren’t, there was no way he’d ever associate the sexy, sensual Lola Mariposa with the awkward teenage incarnation of Kaylee Whitfield.
Then Aidan shifted and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, the way it had all those years ago, right before he’d leaned in and kissed Natasha Campbell, unaware that a young, puberty-addled Kaylee had been jealously spying on the two of them from behind her mother’s prized rosebushes.
And just like that, lust and vindication shoved fear of discovery out of the way.
Because if he’d recognized the woman onstage as Max’s shy little sister for even a second, there was no way he’d be staring at her with such undisguised hunger.
And Kaylee intended to do everything in her power to make sure he stayed hungry.
She shed the dressing gown with no fanfare, catching her routine up to the beats of music she’d let slip by, reveling in Aidan’s undivided interest.
His attention crackled across her skin like an electrical current. A rash of goose bumps followed the same path as she expertly controlled his gaze—rolled a bare shoulder, swept her fingers along the sweetheart neckline of her black satin-and-lace corset, cocked a hip before tracing the edge of her matching panties. She shot him a mischievous smile before bending at the waist as she ran her hands the length of the leg closest to him, from the top of her garter belt down her black thigh-high it held in place. She paused at the bottom so she could undo the strap of one three-inch metallic-edged black T-strap heel, and then the other one.
Free of her shoes, she settled into the rest of her routine, letting her body dip and sway with the music, daring him not to want her.
Even her favorite part of the routine, when she put all the hours of ballet class her mother had forced on her to taboo use and used her perfect développé as an opportunity to unhook her garter belt before perching her toes on the stool and tugging the seamed stocking down and all the way off, was dedicated to Aidan tonight.
She spun so she was sitting on the stool and extended the other leg so she could remove that stocking, too, being sure to aim her flirtatious looks in his direction.
Her routine was all vintage bump and grind, from the music to the victory rolls in her faux blond hair, but there was nothing old-fashioned about the way her body was responding to having his eyes on her. She loved being onstage, but it had never turned her on like this before.
Kaylee put her back to the audience so they could watch her loosen the laces of her corset, every cell in her body acutely attuned to Aidan.
When she turned to face front, her body subconsciously angled toward him as she began undoing the hook-and-eye closures that ran the length of the bustier. After unfastening all of them under his careful watch, she held the stiff garment to her body, drawing out the big reveal, and her nipples tightened almost painfully as she imagined how differently her evening might have ended if, instead of a club full of people, this had been a private show for Aidan. Heat pooled at the apex of her thighs, and she bit her lip against the erotic thought of their bodies pressed together.
When her corset hit the floor, Kaylee was clad in nothing but sequined pasties and ruffled panties, but in all her performances, she’d never once felt so deliciously naked or so desperately wanted. She barely heard the applause and whistles. There was only her and Aidan and his stark look of desire as she executed an impressive shoulder shimmy and struck her final pose as the music ended.
She was breathing faster than normal, not from exertion but from the sensual thrill of stripping for the beautiful boy she’d wanted with her whole heart back then and the sexy man she wanted with her whole body now.
He lifted his chin and raised his beer bottle in tribute, and the intimacy of the moment in a club full of people stole her breath altogether.
Then the curtain rushed closed and swallowed him from sight.
JEE-ZUS.
Aidan Beckett took a long swallow of his beer.
He didn’t know how the fuck it had happened, but he was half-hard for the leggy blonde with the tiny butterfly tattooed on her ribs who’d just seduced him in a room full of people.
He’d never seen a burlesque show before. It was different from strippers. The women had a spark to them. No dead eyes and rote movements. There was joy on the stage. Cheekiness. Playfulness that made you feel like you and the performer were sharing some sort of inside joke, even if you couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
He’d been scanning the bar, half cursing his PI for sending him here on a wild-goose chase, half following the dance moves of some redhead in sparkly lingerie shimmying around and mugging prettily about diamonds being a girl’s best friend.
Then the audience had erupted in appreciative cheers, and he’d glanced at his watch as the emcee of the evening introduced the next performer.
That’s when she’d appeared.
Lola Mariposa.
There’d been something...electric about her, something that transcended the mile-long legs. The way she danced. Hell, the way she’d looked at him. Before they’d made eye contact, he would have sworn she didn’t even care that she had an audience. She looked like she had a secret she wasn’t about to share.
She might be dancing, like the performers before her. She might be saucily removing most of her clothes, like the performers before her. But unlike like the performers before her, there was something aloof about her, a definite “you should be so lucky” vibe, and he’d liked it.
But then, Aidan had always liked a challenge.
When their eyes had locked, something had pulsed between them.
Attraction.
Desire.
She’d ensnared him and she knew it. Reveled in it. It was one of the sexiest damn things he’d ever seen.
The kick of lust had caught him off guard. He’d been in a dark place lately. Too dark a place to put the effort into seducing someone. So he’d been making do, tiring himself out at the gym and in the boxing ring, and rubbing one out when the need arose. But for the first time in a long time, his hand seemed like a poor substitution for a down-and-dirty fuck.
The burlesque dancer had made him realize how much he’d missed sex—the give and take, the heat and friction, that release. She’d unwrapped her body and his libido at the same time.
He pushed away from the rough beam at his back and set his half-empty beer bottle on the tray of a passing waitress.
If it was any other night, he might have sought Lola out. Explored that pulse of want that had crackled between them. But tonight, he had business to attend to.
He’d come to the club looking for someone, but the minute he’d pulled his bike into the parking lot, he’d known the intel was shit.
Little
