Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

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Dominick

After the longest week of my life, I stopped at the gym on my way home from work to forget about Tanushree, but that didn't work. I mean, it hadn't worked for the last six days, so I didn't know why I thought today would be any different.

She was inked on my skin like a new tattoo, and there was nothing I could do about it now. I'd always be reminded of the girl I'd had but couldn't keep.

With a towel slung around my shoulders and gym bag in hand, I kicked open the door to the club, ready to take a shower and collapse on my bed with a book before the show tonight.

But, when I walked inside the club, I locked eyes with the girl I'd been dreaming about all week.

Tanushree.

She was just standing there, bright as could be, like a spotlight shining on a dark stage.

Dumbfounded, I stared at her. Afraid that if I blinked or breathed or opened my mouth, the light would shut off, and she'd disappear.

I convinced myself that she looked happy to see me. Her dark eyes twinkled with excitement, and my fucking heart was about to explode out of my chest. Either this was a dream, or maybe–just maybe–she didn't hate me after what happened at my office.

This was my opportunity to find out.

I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, but the closer I got to where she stood by the stage, the more her smile started to fade and the light around her dimmed. Maybe she was nervous. Hell, I was so nervous I didn't know what to say. I lengthened my strides, needing to get to her before she disappeared.

Someone called out my name, and that's when I realized the club wasn't dark and that Tan was surrounded by people–including the guys that danced at the bar and Mimi's friends.

For seven, the place was packed.

One of Mimi's girls tapped Tan on the shoulder, and she turned away from me, breaking eye contact and severing the connection between us. I was forced to stare at her back and the way her black crop top showed inches of smooth, golden brown skin. Her black joggers sat low on her hips.

I liked seeing her like this. Comfortable. Her long hair loose and flowing past her shoulders.

She was perfect, and every inch of her body called my name. Maybe it was wrong or scary, but I wanted to feel that connection again. The way her eyes made me feel like she saw past the tough front I put on for everyone else. Like she saw me.

I dropped my gym bag on the stage beside her and one of Mimi's girls, and their conversation abruptly ended. Tan didn't move. She held so still I didn't think she was breathing.

If someone needed to give her mouth-to-mouth, I was the man for the job.

"Can I speak to you?" I asked in a thick voice that I almost didn't recognize. I had no clue what I was doing or what I was going to say, but I knew I needed to say something. "Alone?"

"I'll give you two a minute." Mimi's friend backed away, leaving us standing beside the stage.

Slowly, Tan turned to face me, and fuck, my breath caught in my throat.

Maybe she wasn't fresh ink. Maybe she was the tattoo gun. Slowly injecting pain and pleasure beneath my skin with every breath. Leaving behind colors I'd never seen before. Call me a masochist, but I wanted more.

"Is this about choreography?" Tan asked, sounding annoyed.

My brain scrambled to process the question. What did choreography have to do with anything? She was here. That had to mean she wanted to see me. Right?