The industrial kitchen was quiet other than the dishwasher. Was the place already closed?
It was. I followed the men past steel tables and racks of glasses into the dining room, where a few servers were counting their tips at a booth. The one closest to Jason stopped mid-count, rose from his seat, and gave us a curious look. As if he were waiting for something.
Jason said nothing. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and passed a handful of cash to the server. Once the transactionwas complete, Derrick moved to take a seat at the empty bar while Jason directed me toward a pair of curtained glass doors.
I didn’t ask any questions because there was an urgent energy radiating from him, and it seemed like talking would waste precious time.
The banquet room was softly lit by the chandelier overhead and the few faux trees decorated with white lights. Whatever party had been in here was over. The staff had broken down nearly all the tables and stacked them, leaving the center of the large room clear.
Jason followed me in and shut the doors, closing us into the room together. He motioned to the space. “Hardwood floor.”
If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I might have taken a moment to comprehend what he’d done. But I was too busy, already seated in a chair, winding the ribbons around my ankles.
16
JASON
I pulleddown one of the chairs from the stack by the door, sat down, and forced myself to stare at my phone, so I wouldn’t watch Laurel as she began to stretch. Her black leotard and tights fit her body like a second skin, allowing me to see every sexy curve, and I’d struggled with temptation enough. No need to make it worse on myself.
Occasionally, I’d glance up to see her fluttering across the floor or spinning in impressive circles that somehow didn’t make her dizzy.
It was so goddamn hard not to watch her, but I felt like I shouldn’t. Like this time was personal, and I wasn’t sure she wanted to share, or if I’d earned the right to watch.
But after twenty minutes, she suddenly stopped dancing and stalked toward me.
She flung a finger at my phone. “Give me that.”
“You want to call someone?” My expression was dubious because that was a big deal, and she wasn’t allowed to do it from my phone.
“No. I want to put some music on.” The hopeful look on her pretty face made me weak. “Please?”
My gut told me this was a bad idea, but I ignored it and handed her the phone.
She went to YouTube and typed in the song she was looking for. Rather than hand it back, she grabbed an unused tumblerfrom the side bar, slipped the phone inside to amplify the sound, and set it on the next table over. Now I’d have no choice but to be her audience.
Perhaps it was what she had wanted all along.
“What are you doing?” For some reason, my heart beat quicker.
Her hands freed her hair from the bun it had been in as the music began, and her hair tumbled in waves around her. “My audition piece. The one that landed me my principal spot.”
The song was slow and sultry, the audio equivalent of sex.
From the very first move, I knew I was in deep shit. Her gaze locked onto mine, and she held it even when she slid straight down into the center splits. She crawled toward me, sensual and provocative, and every muscle tightened across my chest.
Then she was up on her feet again, her hands caressing her body and barely avoiding the places I most wanted them to go. It was a wicked tease, heating the air around me. Fuck, how I wanted those to be my hands.
Instead, I balled them into fists and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
Laurel glided across the floor on her tiptoes, the satin of her shoes barely making a whisper as she traveled, fluttering with grace and precision. It was wild how nothing but her legs moved, as if the top half of her body were independent from the lower half.
She vaulted into the air abruptly, executing a huge turning leap, and as soon as she landed, she rolled down onto her knees. It was a display of power and control, and I swallowed thickly.
Wasthiswhat ballet usually looked like? Because if so, maybe I needed to get my ass to the theater.
She arched her back and rose on her toes, like an invisible string had been tied around her chest and pulled her onto herfeet. Her gaze locked onto mine once more, demanding I watch. Daring me not to look away.
Like I could.
