Page 64 of Sexy

She laughs a little more, but her arms are still swaying above her head and she does another little dip before standing back up and turning her back to me. She peeks over her shoulder like a flirting professional, batting her eyelashes, a move that never works on anyone—except me, right here, right now—and says, “I’m not your type, Fletcher. I’m serious and conservative. And you’re not.”

She turns her head, and I have to look in the hotel window to see the reflection of her face. Her eyes are closed now. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should let you teach me how to seduce him with a lap dance.”

And then she stops and walks over to the dining table and pulls out a chair, facing it towards me. “Here. Sit. Let me at least try.”

I’m suddenly without words. But my feet know when to accept an invitation that my brain has a hard time coming to terms with. So two seconds later I’m walking to that chair. “Your move, Miss Preston.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fletcher is easy. He’s always looking for a fuck. Cole is not.

Fletcher is a professional seducer. Cole is a professional… well, professional.

So maybe Fletch is right? I need to make Cole want me. I need to make him desire me. I need to seduce him. And I think I can do the dancing. I’m not inept at that. I’ve been clubbing with Claudio enough to have those moves down.

I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. But I had that with Fletcher. I was witness to one of the best flirts in the business as he tried to seduce me. So all I really have to do is be the Tiffy Preston version of Fletcher Novak, right?

But if I think about who I’m practicing on too hard, then I’ll lose my nerve. So when Fletch gets to the chair, I push him into a sitting position.

“What?” Fletcher laughs.

“Shhh,” I say, laying a single fingertip across his lips. “Don’t talk or you’ll scare me off.”

His mouth drops open but he stays silent.

I think back to the rock earlier today. How he was moving his body in front of my face. Demanding my attention. I take a step forward and straddle his legs. The sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs brushes up against his soft sweat shorts, and a shiver runs up my legs—straight through my core.

Just the thought of my panties rubbing against his hard cock is enough to start the throbbing. So I bend my knees a little and lower myself down. Just enough to brush my pussy over the open air between his legs.

I reach for his hair and when I brush the tips of my fingers against his scalp, he lets out a small, “Fuck.”

“Like this, Fletch?”

He nods. His eyes are trained on mine. I have his complete attention. “Yeah,” he whispers, and swallows hard. “That’s pretty good, Tiffy.”

I ease forward, my hips swaying back and forth just above the waistband of his shorts, my legs pressing hard against his. And then I ease down into his lap.

I like this, I realize. I like him. It’s dangerous, I know that. But I can’t stop now. Not even if I wanted to, and I don’t.

The moment my clit feels his cock, I let out a breath of desire. Will he fuck me again if I go too far? Or will he stop himself and obey his own rules? Should I try for it? Should I try to make Fletcher Novak want me?

But his hands on my ass again blow away my thoughts. He’s playing along. He rubs the muscles under my dress, and then a moment later they’re underneath. Caressing that tender spot between my upper thighs.

I want him to take it further. I want him to want me. But I don’t know what to do next. So I hear myself ask, “Now what?”

“Now,” he growls, “you close the deal.”

“How?” I whisper, leaning into his neck like he did earlier.

He grabs the hem of my dress and lifts it up, exposing my thighs and rubbing them all at the same time. “Take this off.”

Jesus. If I do that I have a feeling we might not stop. I know he’s a one-night guy and we had that already. But what if I succeed at this seduction thing?

“Do it, Tiffy. Stand up and take the fucking dress off. You make him crazy, just like I make those girls crazy on stage.”

A striptease, I realize. He wants me to do a striptease. “I don’t know—”

But he stands up and pushes me back. “Take the dress off.” He sits back down on the chair and leans back, spreading his legs slightly and getting comfortable. Like he’s ready to enjoy a show he typically gives instead of gets.