I straightened on unsteady legs, trying to regather myself as relief clashed with a fresh burst of anxiety. “I, um…” I turned toward the door and hoped he would follow. “I have a room.”
CHAPTER
SIX
Zephyr
I tried not to think about Darby or anyone else watching me slink out of the executive suite and down the walkway, headed toward the back of the club.
Fortunately, Beck followed, though I had to check to see. He looked perplexed, or maybe embarrassed, as he trailed several feet behind, nearly losing me as I ducked through the door marked Employees Only.
I had a room, yes. Not the one populated with dungeon furniture and monitored by Maslow’s surveillance. Mine was tucked away, up a narrow staircase in the farthest, dimmest corner of the building—easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it.
My knees wobbled with every step, but I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. Beck’s footsteps thudded behind me, steady and close, echoing the rhythm of my heart.
The second floor of the Devil’s Dollhouse was comprised of living quarters. Maslow kept a suite at the farend while we dancers occupied rooms along the side of the long corridor. A shared bathroom waited at the opposite end, outfitted with a bay of sinks and shower stalls where we got ready each morning.
I stopped in front of my door, where a metal nameplate gleamed against the wood. Beck caught up beside me, glancing around, cautious. I wondered if I should say something to reassure him.
I wouldn’t hurt him; I wasn’t even sure I could. And this wasn’t me luring him like a siren to his demise. I wouldn’t do that either.
But when he reached the threshold, whatever words I meant to offer caught in my throat. So instead, I pushed the door open and stepped aside, quietly inviting him in.
It was probably the opposite of reassuring when I darted in behind him and then closed us both inside my cramped bedroom. His features went slack as he turned a slow circle in the room’s limited open space.
Beck’s gaze drifted across the room, taking in the bare-bones space with quiet curiosity. There wasn’t much to see. I hadn’t gathered many possessions in my month and a half on Earth. My clothes were folded away in the drawers of a tall, scuffed highboy pressed against the wall beside a small table. A few lonely shelves hung above it. Across the narrow strip of floor that passed for a walkway, my bed sat shoved into the far corner.
I winced when I saw it: unmade, the sheets tangled in a mess, the blanket half-slung to the floor, and the pillow balled into a knot. Not exactly a scene that invited touch, especially not from someone like Beck, with his tailored suit and gold-ringed fingers.
But he didn’t seem to notice the mess or, if he did, he didn’t care. His focus settled elsewhere.
On the window. Or more precisely, the world beyond it, framed by iron bars.
From here, I had a narrow view of the Strip. Neon signs lit up the skyline in garish bursts, painting the night with electric color. The glow found its way inside, casting prisms across the ceiling. I’d spent nights tracing them with my eyes, imagining other worlds, better ones, where the shows in my head could be real. Where I could be something more than decoration.
But even those lights were divided, sectioned off by the bars, fractured like everything else. They didn’t invite me in. They reminded me that this was it. My second chance began and ended with a room, a window, and a view I could never reach.
When I looked at Beck again, he was fixed in place. Frowning. Thinking.
The desire that had been potent in the executive suite had grown vapor thin while I stood inches away, wringing my hands together when they probably should have been on him. Caressing. Coaxing.
I needed to give him something else to look at.
I started to strip out of my clothes, shirt first. I probably should have made a show of it, taken my time at least, but with everything so stretchy and skintight, the garments mostly rolled off into balls. I dropped them on the floor, then stood before the other man completely bare.
His interest piqued as his yellow eyes tracked down my body, and I wished my dick were harder. Hard at all. Flaccid didn’t exactly give off fuck-me vibes.
Shifting, I cleared the thickness from my throat. “Where do you want me?”
Beck blinked a few times, then nodded at the messy mattress.“The bed’s fine.”
I headed toward it, only a step or two, then paused when I heard the swish and slide of the other man undressing. I glanced over my shoulder to get a look at the body he had wrapped up in that fancy suit.
I’d seen plenty of people naked.
Okay, a handful.
Just the other dancers, actually.
