Rebound, Boundless Series, Book 1

Chapter Five

Pushing Dashing out of my thoughts for the rest of my evening, I steeled myself and walked past his party without so much as a sideways glance. Patty handed us another drink. After downing my third shot—or fifth—I decided to give the bride-to-be her lap dance. I walked around the glass coffee table, shaking my hips and pointing my index finger at her. The other girls squealed. They stood around us, pumping their fists in the air. Chelsea waved her arms, keeping me at bay. She was so prim and demure.

As I swayed in front of her, lifting up the skirt of my dress, she shrieked and covered her eyes. She hadn't watched me dance like this since we spent a summer in Las Vegas. I pried her hands away, jiggling my breasts in her face. When I braced myself on her knees, I swayed my hips seductively.

Despite her reddish cheeks, I continued my routine. I turned around, my behind in her face. I placed her hands on my hips, shaking my bottom. Playfully, she slapped my ass, laughing and covering her mouth. The girls chanted Chelsea's name. Marta tucked a dollar in my bra strap. The girls chuckled and clapped.

Seated on Chelsea's lap, I wriggled against her body. My head lay on her shoulder. She held my waist—as men had touched me when I danced for them in the burlesque show. "Having fun?" I asked, smiling.

She cast her eyes down, shaking her head. In my ear, she answered, "You're crazy."

I sat forward, spread my legs, then popped my ass upward. I held onto my shins and I wriggled it in her face. She slapped my behind harder. I turned my head to see her eyes closed. Red streaks rose from her décolletage to the tips of her ears.

The girls chanted Chelsea's name. When Chelz's hands slid down my hips. I smacked her hands, wagging a finger and mouthing, "No." She covered her eyes in shame.

As the chanting died down and Chelz's smile faded. She looked perplexed. Before I could turn to observe what she was looking at, a large hand wrapped around my forearm. I immediately thought a bouncer was trying to stop me from dancing provocatively. I was appropriately dressed, showing less skin than the club's dancers.

Yet, Lumiere wasn't the venue for a lap dance.

Ready to receive a harsh reprimand, I turned to face Dr. Keene. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched. He looked dark and dangerous in the dim lighting. There was no dimpled smile. Without first giving me a lecture, condemning the spectacle I was making, he pulled me away from Chelsea. I turned to her, silently pleading for her to rescue me. She grimaced with concern.

With my arm in his vice grip, he pulled me away. As we passed by my wide-eyed girls, they gave us passage, allowing him to whisk me away. I couldn't resist him, letting him tug me close to his body.

Because of my high heels, I almost tripped. With his free arm, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me against his strong frame. He smelled incredible—a mix of woodsy cologne and his natural scent I remembered from my visit to his office. I relished his touch once again, not wanting him to let me go. Once I was steady on my feet, he released me. He turned toward the stairs, and I silently followed him.

He offered his hand as he made his way down the steps. Eagerly, I placed mine in his, feeling the strong grip of his fingers. I teetered down the stairs, balanced by his gallant hold. The dance floor was crowded, but he parted the mass of bodies. Being over six feet tall, he made his way to a spacious area on the floor. When we arrived at a clear spot, he pulled me into his body. We moved to the beat of the song. One hand rested on my lower back while the other rested on my shoulder blade. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands clinging to the nape of his neck.

Fighting through the strong flutters coursing through my core, I felt like a schoolgirl at her first dance. We danced a slow, awkward dance, trying to find our rhythm. He was so sickeningly gorgeous that I couldn't bring myself to look at him.