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Is there anything this man isn’t good at?

I dart my eyes around the room and spot Mary peeking out behind the curtain, eyes bright and smile beaming. She gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and she gestures for us to continue.

Since she clearly seems fine with it, I decide to take a few creative liberties of my own…

“I believe you were going to dance for me,” I say, flipping the attention back to him.

He narrows his eyes at me, but to his credit, he doesn’t miss a beat. “I was?”

I nod, biting my lip to hide my grin. “You were.”

As if picking up on my cue, the music begins to play. I recognize the intro to Ginuwine’s “Pony” immediately.

Damn. Talk about a flexible production. If acting was always like this, maybe I’d actually enjoy it.

I cross my arms and lift my chin in challenge, then slowly drag my gaze over him. The way his biceps flex and ripple when he moves. The way his broad shoulders taper into his narrow waist, showcasing the defined V visible beneath his thin undershirt. His body is a perfectly sculpted work of art…and the worst part is, he knows it.

Warmth pools low in my belly as my eyes betray me before my brain can intervene.

His brown eyes flare with heat as he stares back at me. And just when I expect him to backpedal, to try to flip the focus back on me, he flips his hat around backward. “Careful, sweetheart. You keep looking at me like that, and I can’t be responsible for what happens next.” He drops his voice low enough that only I can hear. “I have no problem with an audience. But you already knew that,” he says with a wink.

Then, just as the beat drops, he falls to his knees and slides across the floor.

I grip the edge of my seat and press my lips together to hold back a laugh. But any hope of keeping it together disappears when he drops from his knees to his stomach and starts army crawling across the floor like a wounded soldier, pausing every few feet to hump the ground.

And as ridiculous as he looks, the way he rolls his hips while holding my gaze, gauging my every reaction…is definitely working for me.

Unlike most men who want to appear tough and in charge—i.e., Augustus—Roman isn’t the least bit ashamed to throw himself at a woman’s feet. It’s as if he’s accepted his role, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to please his woman. Even if it means making a fool of himself in front of a live audience.

Truly, this man has no shame.

Judging by the enthusiastic cheers he’s receiving right now, I must not be alone.

I give him the tiniest nod of approval, making his whole face light up. I bark out a laugh before I can stop it as he worms his way back to me, somehow managing to make his corny moves look sexy.

Still on his knees, he gingerly takes my foot and trails kisses over the top.

“Such a good boy,” I tease as I pat his head. “Does he know any more tricks…other than begging?” I try to sound sultry, but I can’t mask the humor in my voice. My cheeks ache from the ridiculous smile I’m wearing.

Roman’s eyes flicker with heat, his lips pulling into a devilish grin. “Oh, he knows plenty of tricks…” His eyes never leave mine as he rises to his feet, towering over me.

My cheeks burn hot as I come face-to-face with his impressive bulge. I wet my lips, drinking him in as I let my gaze fall to admire his erection. My mouth waters at the memory of his smooth, thick cock. Unlike Guy, who kept things mostly professional, Roman lays it all out there, the head of his cock so close it nearly brushes my chin through the fabric of his sweatpants.

Goddamn, I forgot how well-endowed he was.

Behind us, the audience loses their minds, whistling and applauding, clearly enjoying the show, but I’m too lost in the moment to notice. Their enthusiasm only eggs him on, because he starts twerking, his fully erect cock, bobbing against my cheek with each and every thrust.

Luckily, his back is to the audience, so I’m the only one with the prime view.

“Down, boy,” I say, dropping my eyes pointedly to where he’s tenting the front of his sweatpants.

He follows my gaze, and I see the moment he realizes what he’s got himself into. Now it’s his turn to blush.

Satisfaction blooms in my chest.

“Shit,” He hisses between clenched teeth as he looks around, like he’s pondering how to get himself out of this predicament.

Just when I think he’s going to bow out, his arm cinches around my waist. “Just give me a minute.” In one fluid motion, he lifts me out of the chair and flips us. And suddenly I’m straddling his lap.