“Dinner, my boat.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be screwing at the club?” she asked.
He raked his hand through his hair. “Dinner first, then the club. You can dance for me, then we’ll look for Greg in the back room.”
“You love having all the power, don’t you?”
He cupped her face with his hands. “I love watching you strip, love how you use your power to manipulate the customers. I fucking love that I own you there. You’re mine and only mine.”
Her raspy moan sliced through the sexual tension. She gripped his shoulders, pulled him to her, and kissed him with a wildness that had him growling from sheer need.
She flicked her tongue against his, ground against him, turning him rock hard in seconds.
In truth,shehad all the power. Not just over the men at the club, but over him too. All the damn time. And she knew it. She was too smart, too cunning, to let anyone—him included—have the upper hand.
She ended the kiss, pushed him away. “I hate you,” she whispered.
He wasn’t buying that.
Slash picked up a black marker, added the name Deb Weaver to the list of missing women.
“That makes seven,” he said.
“You can count,” she said, her sarcasm front and center.
“Only up to ten,” he replied.
Her smile felt like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. Brilliant, beautiful, and just for him.
Slash’s phone rang. “It’s Jilly.” She answered, put the call on speaker. “Hey, Jilly, what’s going on?”
“We called the police, they sent an officer over,” Jilly said. “She was very thorough. She said she’d keep Deb’s roommate posted. I’m worried. Do you think the dancers are being targeted?”
Slash lifted her gaze to Carrera. “I think we should be careful at the club.”
“When are you working next?” Jilly asked.
“I’m not sure dancing is for me,” Slash said, her gaze on Carrera. “I might pick up a few bartending shifts. I’ll let you know when I’m there.”
“It was good catching up,” Jilly said. “Your gift was so generous. Seriously, I can’t even believe what you did.”
“You deserved it,” Slash said. “Now, you’ve gotta stay safe so you can graduate.”
After saying goodbye, Slash hung up.
“What did you do?” Carrera asked.
“It was nothing,” Slash replied.
He clasped her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed her finger, letting his lips linger on her warm skin. In that instant, their connection changed from partners to something more. Something that made her breath hitch, something that softened her gaze.
Is romance her hot button?
“It must’ve been something if your friend mentioned it,” he murmured.
She could have tugged her hand away, but she didn’t.
“She’s two classes away from a college degree, but she was strapped for money.” Slash jumped her gaze from his mouth back into his eyes. “I paid for her courses.”
