I stand in the bathroom,hands pressed to my flushed cheeks, staring at my reflection like it might offer answers.
My heart is still racing.
My breath is ragged.
Did I really just do that with a stranger?
God. That was insane, like something ripped from the filthiest chapter of one of Rylee’s steamiest novels, only a thousand times hotter.
My body still buzzes, alive in ways I didn’t know it could be.
I have kissed men before. No, let’s be honest, they were boys. Boys, in comparison to this faceless God of a man who really almost made me come with just his dirty words.
No one has ever made me feel the way he just did. Free. Sexy. Desired.
And isn’t that… backward?
Aren’t dancers supposed to make the clients lose themselves, come undone?
Not the other way around.
I exhale sharply, shaking my head.
I’ve always been shy about my body, self-conscious in ways I can’t fully explain.
Afraid I won’t look right.
Scared I won’t feel anything.
Terrified I’ll mess it up, or worse… that he won’t want me.
And yet.
Maybe it’s the mask.
He doesn’t see me. Not really.
And I can barely see him.
But Icansee his mouth. His sinful, tempting, impossible mouth.
Oh, that mouth.
Oh, those words.
His desires are dark. He stopped himself; I could tell. The equipment in that room tells the rest of the story.
He’s holding back. Waiting.
And somehow,even now, standing here barefoot on cold tile, that idea turns me on more than I want to admit.
Maybe not tonight.
Maybe not for a while.
But someday, if I want it…
I might let him show me everything he didn’t do tonight.
