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

22 • Hot Date

Tan

It was getting harder and harder to keep myself from kissing Dominick and admitting that this evening meant more to me than just a dance. But now that he'd brought up dinner, resisting the pull of his lips got a whole lot easier.

I couldn't let him know the real me. Could I? No, I couldn't. Eating food was the equivalent of a date, and if he tried to make this night about me, he'd find out I wasn't the kind of girl he was into, and right now, another rejection from him would hurt so bad.

This man granted sick kids wishes and danced at a strip bar. He'd definitely taken more interesting girls than me out on dates. Particularly ones that had their shit together.

I shook my head and looked away, staring at the electric lights that lit up the theaters nearby.

"You don't want to eat dinner with me," I said, dismissing his assertion that we needed to share a meal together. "Trust me."

I hoped that would be enough to deter him, but Dominick was stubborn as hell.

He pulled me to a stop in front of a black motorcycle and spun me around to face him, grabbing my other hand in his. His thumbs tracing lines on the backs of my hands. No hint of a smile on his face.

"I don't make a habit of saying things I don't mean. I want to eat dinner with you. And now that I know you ate almonds for dinner, I'm going to make sure you get some real food."

It was sweet that Dominick was worried about me, but this man was crazy if he thought I hadn't survived for years on single-serving snacks and takeaway for over a decade.

"What's going on?" Dominick asked. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

I was still struggling to meet his eye. He didn't understand. How could I make him understand? "If we get dinner, then..." I began, but the real reason why I couldn't eat with him died on my tongue. Ugh. Why was this so hard?

"Then what?" he prompted. "What are you afraid will happen?"

Why wouldn't he just drop this?

Guys were usually fine with me turning down dinner. No questions asked. Saved them the cash and the hassle.

I don't know what happened, but it felt like my brain short-circuited and my defenses went right back up.

"It won't end well," I half-shouted, pulling my hands from his and crossing them protectively across my chest. I drew in a breath to calm myself down. "Trust me."

I could feel him staring at me. The press of his gaze felt more inquisitive than angry. After a few seconds, Dominick stepped into my line of sight, crouching down so I was forced to look into his eyes. Those breathtakingly green eyes.

"I like to think I can read what's going on inside your head, but you're going to have to help me understand this one."

Maybe it was the fact that I was over-tired, or PMS'ing, or suffering from a momentary lapse in sanity, but tears pricked in my eyes and burned a path down my throat, and the words started tumbling out of me.

"The more time you spend with me, the more you're going to realize I'm not perfect. And you'll go back to not wanting me around. Or thinking I'm a tutu-wearing demon." I drew in a shuddering breath, tears threatening to spill over my lashes. "Which means we can't do the dance together."

When I finished spewing my guts, I turned around, not wanting him to see me like this. I braced myself for the fallout, waiting for him to abandon me on the street. This was way more drama than anyone wanted to deal with. How crazy did I sound? I don't want to eat with you because you might see all my flaws and hate me? God. This was the opposite of what a chill chick did.