Revolving Door Read online

  Channing’s hand brushes my hip, and I quickly grab it and push it aside. Over my shoulder, I remind him, “No touching.”

  “Right,” he mutters.

  I seductively rise to my feet and turn to face him so that I can gracefully straddle his lap. I know he’s hard as a brick beneath his jeans, but I’m not ready to go there yet. Instead, I put my hands on his shoulders and begin to rock my hips in a sensuous rhythm mere inches from his erection.

  Channing’s eyes are fixated on my body, his lips parted slightly as he drops his eyes to watch my hips working.

  I arch my back, bringing his attention to my breasts straining against my bra. I would love to strip for him, but I keep my costumes on during lap dances, and this is to show him what I do at the club.

  Channing visibly swallows as he reaches for my hip, instinctively wanting to pull me closer.

  I catch his hand in mine and give him a stern look as my body stops moving. “This is when a bouncer would intervene, and the dance would be over,” I tell him. I climb off his lap to walk to the stereo, turning off the music.

  His eyes follow me, and he regards me silently. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  “One warning is all a customer gets. It may look intimate and erotic, but it isn’t. It’s just a job, there’s no meaning behind any of it. Now, would you like me to show you a dance that’s just for you?” I ask seductively.

  He nods, his eyes running over my body with anticipation. He knows he’s about to get a hell of a show.

  My lips curve into a smile. “Good, because this has been in my dreams…nightly,” I tease as I begin the next song. ‘Earned it’ by The Weekend begins to play.

  I walk over to him and touch his shoulders before running my hands along his arms and down to his knees, spreading them. I look at him with a sultry expression on my face. “Now this, this is real between you and me.” I straddle his lap so that his hardness nestles between my thighs.

  Desire flickers in his gaze as he stares at me with an intensity that takes my breath away.

  Because I want to tease him, I lift my hips so that I am no longer touching him, and I slowly begin to move, my back arching as I give him a show that’s just for his eyes only. I’m still fully clothed in my costume, and the fabric between my thighs is already completely saturated with my desire.

  When I'm ready to torture him with my body, I deliberately rub my wet heat against the bulge in his jeans. His breath hisses, and I give him a taunting smile. His eyes are hooded as he watches me move along his body, and I lean forward and tease the corner of his mouth with my tongue. His response is to groan, and I run my hands down his chest and reach for the hem of his shirt.

  Channing readily sits back and helps me ease it off so that his chest is bare. My hands settle on his warm shoulders, and he immediately reaches out to cup my breasts. As I move my hips, the rough fabric of his jeans feels so good against my clit.

  "Ash," he whispers.

  I lean forward once more and press my lips to his, but I don't kiss him. "I'm going to come all over your jeans," I say softly in my naughtiest tone.

  Channing's breath catches. "God, yes,” he groans.

  I straighten once more and arch my back so that he has a great view of his tanned hands cupping my full breasts. His thumbs are beginning to flick over the pert tips trapped beneath the material of my bra, and I make a soft sound of encouragement and rub my clit against his hardness. This is just too much now, and I stop playing and let my head fall back as I press myself harder onto his covered erection.

  "Fuck. You're gorgeous, Ash," Channing breathes.

  I bite my lip and close my eyes as my lower body tightens. I'm so close. When the orgasm hits, I moan and press down hard against him, aching for him to fill me.

  Channing's hands have tightened on my breasts, and he's completely still as I come down from my post orgasmic haze. When I finally open my eyes, I see that he looks tortured. "Ash," he says raggedly.

  "Condom?" I ask expectantly.

  "Nightstand drawer," he clips out.

  I ease off his lap and quickly retrieve a condom. When I return, Channing hasn't moved, and I get to work on his jeans. The fabric is damp, and I ignore it as I help him yank down his jeans and briefs. He kicks them aside and spreads his legs, his eyes on me expectantly. "Ride me hard," he orders in a low, sexy voice.

  With a saucy smile, I climb onto his lap and teasingly roll the condom onto his length. "I plan to." When the condom is in place, I move aside the fabric of my panties and slide onto his length to the hilt, wrapping my arms around his neck. Channing groans, and his lips claim mine as his hands grasp my hips, urging me to move.

  He wanted a hard ride, and I move myself up and down his length, adding more and more pressure. Soon, he's arching into me as I slam myself down onto him, and the only sound in the room is music mixed with the slapping of flesh meeting flesh. We're both desperate, and his hands grip me tightly as we rock together. The chair is squeaking, and there's every possibility that we might break it, but I don't think either of us really care.

  Channing's head tilts back, and his eyes hold mine as our bodies frantically move against each other. His lips part, eyes darkening, and I love the expression of pure pleasure etched across his features. It's enough to send me over the edge, and I cry out. Channing thrusts harder up into me and swears under his breath when he goes over right along with me.

  For a long moment, we hold each other as we try to catch our breath. My face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and I inhale deeply, reveling in his scent.

  I feel Channing’s hand move, and he rubs my back. “You didn’t take anything off,” he says with a chuckle.

  I laugh softly. “Next time.”

  A loaded silence fills the room, and the earlier sexual tension fades.

  “Ash?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s not just the dancing. I don’t want them looking at you,” he says quietly.

  My body tenses, and I pull away so that I can peer into his eyes. He’s still inside me, and yet I have a feeling this is the end for us.

  His eyes meet mine, and they are twisted with emotion. “I don’t know how to accept what you do.”

  “I’m making more money than I would working somewhere else, Channing. I can save, pay for rent, and eventually figure out what I want to do with my life.”

  He looks away, swallowing. “Ash…”

  Tonight had backfired after all. I ease off his lap and stand, adjusting my panties. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” I whisper sadly.

  He slips off the condom as he stands, tossing it in the garbage by his desk. He takes a step towards me and then hesitates, pausing a few feet away. “I can’t share you.” He looks at me with defeat. “I thought there was a way around it. I’ve been trying to come up with ways to accept it, but I can’t.”

  “You’re not sharing me, Channing. They don’t get me,” I insist. “I’m yours.”

  “But I am sharing you, Ash,” he says with frustration. “This happened so fucking fast that my mind is spinning over how this all has gone down in such a short amount of time. I also can’t help how I feel—about you and your job. I want to be the only one to see you naked, but your job demands flirting and seduction… I never thought or imagined that I’d feel this way about someone, that I would want to commit to a woman. Yet here I am, asking exactly that of you. Looks like I’m the ‘all in’ kind of guy that I never thought I’d be,” he says with self-derision.

  I’m losing him, and it’s breaking my heart. “I can commit to you,” I vow in a thick voice.

  His shakes his head. “I know what you’re doing at the club isn’t technically cheating, but I just can’t do it, Ash. I’ve tried, I really have, but I can’t wrap my head around it and be okay with it.”

  I draw in a shaky breath and fight back the tears that are stinging my eyes. “I understand. I really do,’ I say softly, and it hurts to acknowledge that we’d tried and failed.<
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  “Ash…”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him, straightening my spine. This isn’t going to break me. As much as it hurts, it’s just the way this is going to play out for me. This is life. “We both knew going into this that it may not work.”

  Channing is silent as he stares at me, his expression of all of regret.

  “Good night, Channing,” I murmur before I turn and walk out of his room.

  After firmly closing his door, I hurry to the privacy of my own room. As soon as the door shuts, I sit down on the bed and begin pulling off the high heels. Tears drip to the floor as I slip the shoes off and allow them to fall to the carpet.

  It’s just a damn job.

  I should be willing to part with it, but the thought of looking for another one terrifies me. Making less means barely getting by. At least this way I’m saving for my future—even if I don’t know what that might be.

  Twenty-seven

  Channing

  I raise my hand, signaling to the bartender that I’m ready for another when my hand is caught in Colt’s and pushed back down. “You’ve had enough.”

  “Not nearly,” I tell him. My hand lifts again, and this time, Colt takes my bicep and physically pulls me off my stool. I stumble into him, irritated that he’s using his height and build to maneuver me where he wants. I glare and try to yank my arm from his grip, annoyed that he’s getting in the way of what I want most. “I didn’t ask you to come with so you could drag me around. I should have just taken a cab,” I grouse at him.

  Colt looks at me, his expression calm but set. “Drinking yourself to oblivion accomplishes nothing.”

  Someone bumps into me from behind, and I feel myself swaying unsteadily. Colt tightens his grasp on me, and he begins leading me out of the packed bar. I’m not ready to go, but there’s no arguing with Colt. At least not while I’m in my pathetic, inebriated state. “Then why do you continue to do it?” I toss back at him as we step outside, and I automatically draw in a deep breath of fresh air.

  “Because my shit can’t be fixed,” he clips out, his tone warning me that we’re not delving deeper into the topic.

  I swear up a storm as Colt gives me a boost into the fucking machine that he claims is a truck. Once I’m settled in the passenger seat, and Colt’s climbed into the driver’s seat, I shoot him a look.

  Colt smirks before the interior light dims. “If you don’t want me treating you like a little lady, don’t drink so much that you can’t even get your foot on the running board.”

  I flip him off, scowling as I slump down in the seat. “Mine can’t be fixed either, you know.”

  Colt backs us out of the parking space and drives out of the parking lot. “If she’s as miserable as you are, she might just come to her senses.”

  “It’s been three weeks,” I bite out. “She should have come to her senses the night we ended it.”

  “Women are stubborn.”

  “No shit.”

  We both fall silent, and I stare broodingly out my window. I’d known that it was going to be difficult to try to put Ash behind me, but I hadn’t known that it would be this hard. She’s on my mind constantly, and the only way to really block some of the shit going on in my head is to drink. Ironically enough, I’ve always given Colt a hard time over his drinking habits, and yet here I am, trying to drink away my own problems—and failing.

  When we pull into the driveway, I immediately note that Ash’s car is gone. She’s at the club, dancing for men. My chest tightens with jealousy, and as soon as the truck comes to a stop, I open the door and climb down. It hadn’t looked that far to the running board, but I somehow miss it and fall to the ground.

  I growl with irritation as I struggle to pick my myself up. This is why I should have gone drinking alone—no one around to see me embarrassing myself.

  Colt grabs my arm, steadying me once I’m standing. “That was graceful,” he deadpans.

  “Fuck off,” I tell him. “That piece of shit’s just a hunk of metal that could pretty up a junk—ooomph!” I grunt as Colt gives my bicep a yank, nearly knocking me off my feet.

  “Don’t insult my ride,” Colt warns. I open my mouth, and Colt’s hand tightens on my arm. “Don’t. You’re a little bitch when you’re drunk, you know that?” he says under his breath.

  “And you’re not?” I return as we approach the front door.

  Colt snorts. “Yeah, you think about that one once you’re sober, and then you ask me that again.”

  As soon as we step over the threshold and into the living room, I stumble. Colt curses as he steadies me. “I wasn’t supposed to feel this way,’ I mumble.

  “Love is cruel,” Colt agrees. “It’s the fucking equivalent of Hell.”

  “Love?” I rear back with surprise, pulling out of Colt’s grip. I instantly fall backwards, hitting my head on the wall before sliding down to my butt with a thud. “I’m not in love with her,” I deny as Colt swears and squats down beside me.

  “I hate to break it to you, but you fell hard and fast. Not just figuratively, either. You seeing double yet?”

  “Fuck,” I groan. This isn’t love, is it? I know I fell for her, but not that hard. Nope. Not in love, I tell myself. That’s the kind of shit I’ve been avoiding like the plague.

  “What the hell is going on?” I hear Gabe demand.

  I squint upwards and see that Gabe has come to see what all the ruckus is about. He’s staring down at me and Colt, a look of dismay on his face. “Is he drunk?”

  “Help me get him down to my room,” Colt tells him, ignoring his question.

  “Why not his room?”

  Colt slips an arm around me and pulls me to my feet. “Because he’ll kill us if we allow Ashton to see him in this state. Help me, cuz the fucker’s dead weight right now.”

  With a few protests—that are completely ignored—my brother and Colt manage to get me downstairs and onto Colt’s bed. I groan as I close my eyes. The room still seems to be moving.

  “Why the hell did you let him get this drunk?” Gabe asks Colt.

  “He’s a big boy, and he’s hurting. Besides, he’ll learn his lesson when he wakes up with his head in the toilet. The toilet that I haven’t bothered to clean in weeks, possibly even a month,” Colt adds.

  “Fuck off. Both of you,” I grumble.

  ***

  I grip the rim of the toilet and puke my insides out. When the worst seems to be past, I wipe my mouth with a washcloth and sit back against the bathroom wall, my eyes closing against the brightness of the bathroom light. My head is aching like a bitch.

  I can’t recall the last time I’d had such a bad hangover. Not to mention I usually don’t go over my limit. Yeah, I’d been in a mood last night when I’d gone out with Colt, but I hadn’t meant to get so shitfaced.

  “Here.”

  I look up, squinting.

  Gabe squats down and hands me a couple aspirin. He also gives me a bottle of water and what looks like coffee in a mug. Then, he makes a face and stands, picking up the air freshener off the counter and sprays the air.

  “Thanks,” I say dryly. “Now the bathroom smells like some little old ladies’ knitting convention.”

  Gabe snorts. “Better than your puke. Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, his tone turning serious.

  I ignore him and quickly down the aspirin with half the water from the bottle. “Nothing’s going on.”

  “You’re never home, and when you are, you’re moodier than shit.”

  I remain silent as I gaze at the bathroom wall while I wait for my stomach to settle.

  Gabe, undeterred by my deliberate silence, continues speaking, “I let it go because I knew if you wanted to talk about it, you’d come to me.”

  “I still don’t want to talk about it,” I say pointedly.

  “Too fucking bad. I’m going to ride your ass until you do.” He then sighs. “You screwed Ashton a while back, and Colt brought you down here so she wouldn’t see you
in this state. This obviously has something to do with her.”

  “How do you do it?” I finally ask, turning my head to look at him.

  Gabe stiffens, immediately knowing what I’m asking. He says nothing.

  “How do you watch her go out with others?” I prod, not letting the subject go. Maybe he knows something that I don’t.

  “I just do,” he says heavily. “I made my bed, now I have to lie in it.”

  “It’s been years, Gabe.”

  “You think that makes up for the pain I caused her?” he asks cynically.

  “She still cares,” I tell him, recalling the few times I’d caught Harper looking at Gabe when she thinks no one else is around.

  “Maybe, but I hurt her in ways that still haunt her, or she would have taken a chance on some other lucky bastard by now.”

  “Maybe she’s not committing to anyone because she’s waiting on you.”

  “Shut it, Channing. She’s made it no secret that she has no faith in me except as a friend.”

  “That’s because you did everything you could to build that rep of yours,” I remind dryly.

  Gabe shakes his head, his expression shutting down. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you,” he reminds.

  “There’s not much to talk about,” I say, thinking of Ashton. It’s been three weeks, and she’s clearly moved on or she would have already sought me out.

  “Tell me what we’re dealing with, and we’ll get through it together,” Gabe tells me, his eyes urging me to lean on him so he can help me sort out my shit.

  I find myself unloading everything. From Ashton’s dyslexia to her stripping. He needs to understand that the one seems to coincide with the other.

  “Daaaamn,” Gabe says slowly as he processes everything I’d revealed.

  I glare at him. “You look at her in any other way than respectful, and I’ll skin your ass.”

  He holds up his hands. “Hey, no judgement.”

  “Have you seen her lately?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Ashton? Not really. She’s gone a lot, just like you.”