As the laughter fizzles out, I let my words spill without warning. “You know what, bitch? I think… I want to be a stripper.”
She damn near swerves into the next lane, an old lady honking like her life depends on it. I’m pretty sure if we were any closer, she would’ve died from the anxiety alone. “Wait—what?” she blurts, eyes wide. “Say that again—you’re serious?”
I grin, unbothered. “It’s just about last night that I can’t get out of my head. Watching those girls—money flying everywhere, men eating out of the palms of their hands. And girl... all that power? I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I’ve got the attitude for starters—the look and the body… so I figure why not?”
For a moment she just stares at me thinking I’ll change my mind, then her lips curl into a wicked smile. “You know what, you’re right. You’ll have these men risking mortgages. Husbands, baby daddies, preachers—anybody would fold with just one look at you.”
I hide my face, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. “You’re insane.”
“Andyou’reperfect for it,” she fires back, smacking my thigh. “You’ll be the main attraction. I just know it. And you also know I’ll be front row every damn night I don’t work, throwing the first stack and screaming your name like a groupie.”
“I know I always say this, but I really don’t deserve you. Let’s keep this between us for now—before I make any final decisions,” I say, confident she understands exactly what I’m asking.
“Of course, girl.” Her warm smile eases the pressure sitting heavy in my chest.
Maybe she’s right.
Maybe this isn’t me spiraling like I thought I was for a second when the thought first came into my mind. Maybe it’s me finally choosing myself, owning what I want for myself for once.
For now, this stays between me and Arina—our little secret sealed in the hum of her car.
It’s dangerous and reckless. But the more I picture it, the hotter it burns. The thrill coils tight in my stomach, a fire I can’t shake.
I shouldn’t want to strip this bad. But… I do.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Afterglow
F
or someone who’s lived here for most of their life, it never seems to amaze me how little of this town I’ve actually seen. I’ve been circling the same blocks, the same faces, and the same tired routines—until now. These sexy-ass brothers have us cruising through the rich sides of town like I’m not wildly out of place. Just because Arina drives this nice ass Mercedes I hope they don’t get the wrong impression of us—me.
I’m not a fancy or expensive type of girl. I never have been. Though I wouldn’t mind becoming apart of their expensive lifestyles. I just hope it doesn’t come with a price I can’t afford emotionally.
Pulling up to the breakfast spot feels like stepping into a different world. The modern building with all glass walls framed in black steel, already whisperingmoneybefore I even touch the door handle. The valet line glints with foreign cars polished to perfection. At the entrance, two hostesses in fitted black uniforms wait with those practiced smiles that look warm but cost a paycheck to perfect.
It’s a different kind of pretty. Sharp and untouchable.
And all I can think is—these men have taste.The thought twists through me, half nerves, half thrill.
As Arina pulls up to the valet and we step out, my gaze catches the three of them standing at the entrance. And God—they look irresistible.Dangerous even.
The kind of sexy that grabs your attention and doesn’t on ever giving it back.
Saint holds himself like temptation sculpted with bad intentions, his white button-up stretching over broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to spotlight the veined strength running down his forearms. Dark gray slacks fall and his black dress shoes gleaming like he owns the ground beneath him. A single earring flashes when he moves, but it’s the gold chain resting against his collarbone that gets me—it’s simple, yet unfairly sexy.
Cairo leans like seduction itself, casual but lethal. His burgundy sweater vest hugs his frame over a fitted black tee, dark denim molded perfectly, his maroon Jordans spotless. The Cuban link on his chest glints heavy, but it’s not the shine that catches me—it’s his emerald eyes burning into me. His hands may stay tucked in his pockets, but everything about him radiates control, that quiet warning that if he ever got me alone, it wouldn’t be gentle. And honestly—my needs in that area, needs more than gentle sometimes.
Then there’s King.
His navy V-neck clings to every defined cut of his chest and arms, light jeans sitting just right on his hips. A gold pinky ring flashes when he lifts his hand, but his eyes never once flicker to me—they’re locked on Arina. Devouring her with every step she takes.
Saint and Cairo’s eyes find me the long before I step in front of them. Their stares are so intense it feels like my sundress slides right off under the weight of it. We’re not even inside yet, and already the air feels thick enough to swallow.
King grins the moment we reach them, pulling Arina in like she already belongs to him. His arm snakes around her waist, his lips brushing her cheek—then finding her mouth. The kiss lingers just long enough to blur into a growl, his voice dropping low against her lips.
“Fuck… I knew you’d look good this morning,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her skin, “but I wasn’t ready for you looking like something I want to bend over and taste right here—in front of everybody.”
