Thankfully, I’m proven right when the door opens and the dancer steps outside. He’s still wearing nothing but jeans and a T-shirt. A bag is slung over his shoulder, but it does nothing to protect him from the chill or snow flurries.
He stops when he sees me, his expression quickly morphing into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You got me fired,” he snaps. “I’d say that’s pretty far from okay.”
My stomach drops. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever.” He starts to move around me, so I cut him off. His scowl grows darker as he stares up at me. “If you want that private lap dance, I’m afraid it’s a little too late.”
“No, no. I didn’t even want that. That was . . .” I trail off because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care what was going on. He’s humiliated and pissed. “Look, I really am sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you’ve got ten grand lying around to help me pay my bills until I can get another job.”
My first instinct is to offer it to him right now. I owe it to him, even though I think I did the right thing but stopping Bryce from touching him. It wasn’t my intention to get him fired.
“You can come work for me,” I offer.
“Doing what?”
I falter. The truth is, I work alone. And I don’t think he’d be a good fit for real estate.
The dancer shakes his head and starts to move around me, but I block his path once more.
“Wait. You can come home with me for Christmas. I don’t want to show up single again.”
He cuts me a glare. “Do you think I’m out of my mind? Or that I’m that desperate?”
“Definitely the latter.”
“Fuck you.” He shoves by me this time, the grip tight on his bag.
“I’ll give you twenty grand.”
He stops abruptly, indecision thick in the frigid air surrounding him. When he turns to look at me, his eyes are filled with wariness. It seems to tense every muscle in his lithe body.
“What do you need a boyfriend for so badly?”
“Because I don’t want spend the holiday getting set up with total strangers.”
“Right. Sounds like a really hard life. I’ll pass.”
I grab his shoulder when he turns to go again. “Look, I feel bad, all right? I didn’t mean to get you fired.”
“I told you everything was fine. You should’ve stayed out of it.”
The image of Bryce grabbing the dancer earlier flashes through my mind again, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. “How was I supposed to let that go? You were uncomfortable, and he had no right to do that.”
“You must not go to strip clubs a lot.” He shakes his head. “The customer’s always right, okay? And if you have a problem with guys groping people, maybe don’t go to strip clubs.”
“He had no fucking right to touch you.” My voice is nothing but a growl, and I watch the effect it has on the dancer. His gaze drops to my mouth for just a second, a heartbeat, and then he snaps it back up to my eyes.
I think he’s going to walk away. I should let him this time.
Instead, he hesitates. Then asks quietly, “What would you want me to do as your boyfriend on holiday?”
There are so many ways to answer that question. Instantly, my mind is filled with all the things I’d love to see this guy doing. On his knees with my cock in his mouth. Lying with his legs spread open on my bed. Bent over a couch while I fuck deep in his ass.
