Revolving Door Page 9

  He's after sex, and he's not the first to ask me this week. He's tempting, he really is. Mindless, no strings attached sex sounds fun, but I'm also leery of the idea. What if it isn't good? What if it wasn't Hayden's fault and I’m just terrible at it? I wouldn't want to gain a reputation as a woman that's pretty to look at but boring in bed.

  "Not tonight," I tell him, giving into my insecurity. I couldn't handle disappointing anyone in this new life that I'm building. I'm finally pulling together a little confidence and exploring life. I don't want anything to overshadow it.

  Remington nods, looking disappointed. It doesn't take long for him to visibly lose interest. He's ready to ditch me and find someone else that’ll be more willing to end the night in his bed.

  I smile, pulling away from his body. "Go ahead."

  He grins and winks before sauntering over to a woman dancing with her friends.

  Almost immediately, Harper approaches me with two mixed drinks. She hands one to me, and I gratefully accept it as we move to the edge of the dance floor so that we're not standing in anyone's way.

  "Where's Quinn?" I ask after I've taken a sip of the fruity drink.

  Harper nods across the bar, and I follow the direction of her gaze. Quinn is at a booth with a bunch of guys, and she happens to be sitting on someone's lap. She looks like she's enjoying herself, and the cute guy she's sitting on looks like he's ready to drag her to the nearest bed.

  "Rem ask you to hook up?" Harper sips her drink as she looks at me expectantly, waiting for my reply.

  "He did."

  She makes a face, and her eyes slide to the guys. Sebastian is back in the booth with Channing and Colt. "They're all manwhores," she says loudly over the music.

  I laugh. "Yeah, Quinn's already warned me."

  She shakes her head. "If you're after a one-nighter, it's fine. But anything more..."

  "Got it." I lift the plastic glass back to my lips.

  Harper grimaces. "I have to use the restroom. I'll be back," she promises before she walks away.

  I don't feel like going back to the booth, so I finish the rest of my drink and look for a garbage. After I've tracked one down, I return to the dance floor.

  It isn't long before a guy invades my personal space. He'd evidently watched me with Sebastian and Remington, and now he wants to get in on the action. I'm instantly turned off by his assumption. "No thanks," I tell him.

  He ignores my rejection, reaching for me.

  I back away. "I said no." I've had to deal with a few grabby types at the club, and after the second try, a bouncer intervenes and the dance is finished. Here, there isn't a bouncer keeping a close eye on the men.

  "C'mon, you haven't even—"

  Without hearing the rest of his response, I turn and nearly run into Channing. I blink with surprise as his arms slip around me, smoothly pulling me towards the middle of the dance floor. "Thank you," I say gratefully.

  His hands are resting just below my waist, and I instinctively rest my hands on his hard chest. The second I touch him and feel the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt, my heart quickens.

  He's not dancing, and I look at him questioningly as I try to ignore the way my body is reacting to his. "You don't dance?"

  His expression looks kind of torn, as if he’s debating whether he wants to really be out here or not. "Not well,” he says, responding to my question.

  I begin to seductively move against him. “Try,” I coax. It's a dangerous game I'm playing, but I want to know what it's like to have that strong body moving with mine.

  His eyes darken, and I watch as he hesitates before he begins to dance. Although his movements are uncertain, he still has rhythm.

  I grin and bring my hand down the side of his chest until it rests on his hip, and I apply pressure to let him know to keep doing what he's doing. Our thighs brush, and soon my breasts are pressing against his chest.

  Channing's eyes are hooded now, and he moves his head closer to mine and says in my ear, "Like to dance, don't you?"

  "I do," I agree.

  "You're exceptionally good at it."

  "Thank you."

  He draws in a deep breath and then begins to extract himself from me. His movements are reluctant, and his eyes meet mine. "I've reached my limit when it comes to dancing."

  He wants me. It's in his eyes, and he doesn't bother trying to hide it. As much as I would like to explore this attraction, I know it's time to walk away. We’re housemates, and it wouldn’t be wise. I step away from him. "Thanks for the save.”

  He nods and walks away.

  Twelve

  Channing

  As I lie in bed, completely wide awake, my mind focuses on Ashton. She's such a fucking enigma. Awkward one minute, and then a seductress the next. The way she moves... That’s a woman that was made for sex—and lots of it. Just watching her dance had given me a boner, and I'm certain I wasn't the only one. Sebastian’s not into dancing, and yet he'd gone after her like he'd been on a mission. Watching them dance had been torturous.

  Then that fucker, Rem, got in on the action.

  I'd wanted to be the one she was practically dry fucking. Hell, she'd been enjoying it too, it'd been evident on her face as she'd teased him. It’d been obvious when he’d hit on her, and I'd been surprised when she’d turned him down. I'm more than just a little curious about Ashton and her interests—specifically when it comes to men. I'm aware that she's been engaged, and if she still longed for the preppy prick, she wouldn't be here. She'd had a chance at sex tonight without any expectations afterwards, and she hadn't gone for it.

  I release a groan and rub my face.

  I'd gone home tonight with a random woman that I'd met at the club, and I can't even remember her name or recall what she'd looked like except that she'd been a brunette. The sex had been mediocre, and I'd left afterwards without asking for her number. I'm aggravated that Ashton is affecting me this way. I don't want to fucking think about her all the damned time. I shouldn't want to know all her secrets, and I'm tired of wondering what it's like to screw her senseless. Normally, I'd just act on the lust and fuck whoever's caught my attention. Ashton's not just anyone though, she's a housemate. That could really complicate things.

  I stare up at my ceiling, confused and annoyed.

  How do I avoid this unraveling disaster?

  I'm way too interested in her, and I have a suspicion that one time wouldn't be enough. After one taste, I'd want her again, and again. I just know that if I ever act on the attraction, I'm going to develop feelings for her, and that shit messes with the mind. I've witnessed what happens when emotions become involved, and it's a damned nightmare.

  I had to watch Gabe realize his mistake with Harper, and he's been miserable ever since. He's never outright admitted it, but I know he's in love with her. If I thought she'd forgive him for the pain he'd caused her, I'd urge him to tell her how he feels. But Harper's one of those types that you don't mess with because she's an 'all in' type of woman. She knows what she wants, and Gabe broke her trust. Even now, years after it all went down, she still has that distrust in her gaze when she looks at him.

  As for Colt, that poor bastard. He's still fucked up after what happened with that girl in high school. So fucked up that he won't touch a woman with a ten-foot pole unless he's sticking his dick in her, and afterwards, he's out of her life without a backward glance.

  No thanks.

  I'm not ready to deal with the kind of shit that can turn a man inside out. I've witnessed it too many times to want any part of it.

  Thirteen

  Ashton

  I sleep in late the following morning, and when I make my way into the kitchen, I find Quinn—who looks like she’d also just climbed out of bed. Her hair is pulled up into a sloppy ponytail, and she's wearing a tank with little boyshorts. She drops two Pop-tarts into the toaster and spies me. "Want one?"

  "Sure."

  She grabs two plates from the cupboard while I get us glass
es. After our Pop-tarts are ready and our glasses filled, Quinn suggests we sit out on the patio. The morning is cheerfully sunny, and the temp’s already in the low seventies.

  We sit at the table near the pool, and I pick up the chocolate Pop-tart on my plate. "It's beautiful out today," I comment, breaking off a piece and putting it in my mouth.

  Quinn nods in agreement. "Sometimes, I wish I didn't work on the weekends. I haven't been to the beach in forever."

  "Why do you? You make your own schedule, right?"

  "I do, but I like to work as much as possible. I don't want to just barely make it, you know? I've been saving forever for whatever the future brings." She shrugs, reaching for her glass. "Growing up in the system taught me that no one's going to be there forever. I do have the guys to lean on at this point, but someday, I imagine they'll settle down and have families of their own."

  "You're right," I slowly agree. "Eventually, I'm going to have to consider my long-term options, too."

  Quinn looks at me curiously. "How do you like bartending?"

  This time, I'm the one doing the shrugging. "It pays the bills. So, how was last night?" I ask with interest. I'm growing more comfortable with Quinn, and I don't think she'll mind that I asked. When Harper and I had left the club last night, we'd driven Quinn's car home because she'd told us to go without her.

  She gives me a wicked grin. "It was pretty damn good."

  "Think you'll see him again?"

  She bites off the corner of her Pop-tart. "Nope.”

  "Does that bother you?" I can't resist asking.

  "Not at all. The best kind of sex is when there's no strings attached."

  "I've never had casual sex," I dare to confess.

  Quinn doesn't look surprised. "I figured as much. You just don't seem the type."

  I wonder if that's good or bad.

  Quinn must read my expression, and she laughs. "It's not bad, Ash. You just strike me as the type to make a guy work for it. I, on the other hand, am just having fun here and there. I can't imagine settling down with anyone. That shit gets too messy," she says as something flashes in her gaze.

  I don't want to pry further, so I fall quiet and concentrate on my breakfast. Sometimes, I wish I was as blasé as Quinn about things.

  After a few minutes, Quinn asks me about my plans for the day.

  "I'm meeting with a friend later. She works with me," I explain. I'm taking Layla up on her offer to teach me how to pole dance. I'm a little nervous, but that's a given. I'm always nervous when I’m about to do something that’s not a normal part of my day-to-day activities.

  "I saw Rem and Seb trying to pick you up for the night," Quinn muses.

  "They tried."

  She grins. "Smart woman. Sex with one of the guys from our inner circle is asking for trouble.”

  I like that she's included me as one of them. For the first time in my life, I belong somewhere. I note that she's looking at me oddly, and I look at her questioningly. "What?"

  "You were pretty tense when we first met. You've relaxed quite a bit, but you could probably do with a little one-on-one time with a hottie. I know you've got a past, but nothing gets your mind off it better than a guy who knows what he's doing between the sheets," she says bluntly.

  I shake my head and try to tuck away my insecurities. "Sex isn't everything."

  She gives me a look. "Ash, when it comes to the opposite sex, sex is everything."

  I am definitely missing something when it comes to sex, and I'm more than a little curious to find out what it'd be like to be with someone else. But...I just haven't met anyone that I want to take a chance on. No, that's a lie. I have met someone, but Channing is a housemate. I consider him hands-off.

  Quinn studies me. "Have you ever been with anyone besides your ex?"

  I shake my head.

  "You need to venture out and explore. I have a feeling you haven't experienced the good stuff yet."

  ***

  Layla leads me down to the basement at the duplex she's renting. Her little boy is at the neighbor's while she spends the next hour teaching me some basic moves. The basement is somewhat big, and she has a pole installed across the room with a thin, black mat beneath it that covers nearly half the basement's cement floor. Across the room, a sofa is situated next to a stereo system.

  "Do you teach a lot?" I ask curiously.

  "I put ads out advertising one-on-one tutoring, and I bring in extra money that way. Some women prefer learning from me instead of in a class. Plus, my prices are much more reasonable," she says with a smile.

  She leads me across the room to the pole, and she’s dressed in tiny, black boyshorts and a sports bra. Beneath my clothing, I'm wearing something similar. I begin slipping off my shirt and lounge pants. When I'm ready, she gets right down to business and tells me that we need to stretch.

  "You're going to want to work on your grip, and strengthen your shoulders and back as much as possible. I would suggest crunches, sit-ups, lunges, and squats daily if you haven't already begun those," she explains.

  I nod, and she leads me through some stretches. Most are sensuous poses with plenty of back arching. Thankfully, I’m naturally flexible. When we're finished, she straightens and looks at me curiously. "I'm typically working the floor when you're on stage, so I haven’t had much chance to watch you dance. Why don't you show me what you know, and we'll go from there," she suggests.

  I nod and watch as she walks to the stereo and music fills the room. There isn't much that I know, so I show her how I walk around the pole and the few poses that I've done against it. I know absolutely nothing about actual spins, and I'm not foolish enough to try them at the club.

  Layla turns off the music when I motion that I'm finished. She smiles encouragingly as she walks over to me. "You have a great walk, and your poses are sexy. I'm sure you've noticed that an arched back can go a long way to looking sensual."

  "Thank you, and yes."

  She grins. "Ready to try your first spin?"

  "Absolutely."

  "You're probably going to be sore tomorrow," she warns.

  "I figured as much."

  "I'll start you with the basics, and most of us call this one the fireman’s spin." She moves to the pole and grasps it above her head. I watch as she walks around it and then spins effortlessly around the base before cleanly straightening into a sexy pose.

  "You make that look so easy," I say enviously.

  She smiles. "I've had years of practice. Ready for your turn?"

  I eye the pole dubiously. There’s no way that I’m going to look that effortless.

  Layla laughs and pats my shoulder. "This isn't a contest; this is about learning. You're paying me to make you look good, so that's exactly what we're going to accomplish during your lessons.”

  Her encouragement eases my doubt, and I move closer to the pole. "Okay, let's do this."

  "Use one hand to hold onto the pole right above your head, and then you slowly walk around it," she instructs.

  I grasp the pole with my right hand and walk around it. As Layla gives instructions, I place my other hand on the pole about waist height and bring my outside leg around the pole, trying to mimic Layla's earlier spin. I'm certain that mine is much clumsier, and I end with a pose.

  "Not bad," she says with a smile. "You need to grip that pole firmly though, and that will come with a few more practice spins. Let me turn on the music, it'll help."

  As my session with Layla continues, I find myself relaxing as I move around the pole. The spin begins to feel more natural, and when she feels that I've mastered it, she introduces me to the chair spin. "This one is probably going to strain your arms a little. You'll be holding your bodyweight with one arm while holding yourself away from the pole with the other," she warns.

  I'm already looking forward to the challenge. "No pain, no gain, right?" I ask with a grin.

  "Exactly. Once you've learned this one, we'll call it a day. If you're working tonight, you don't want
to be sore."

  ***

  When I come home late that night from the club, I’m still on a high but slowly coming down from it. I'd made a lot of money, especially since I'd been popular in the private rooms. But now that I'm inside the house and away from the club's atmosphere, I’m becoming more aware of my aching feet.

  I also feel gritty all over from the lap dances I'd given. Knowing that the scent of cologne and alcohol still lingers on my skin, I hurry upstairs and wash off the heavy makeup that I'd put on earlier. Then, I take a super quick shower so that I don't wake Harper or Channing. Both their vehicles had been in the driveway.

  Once I feel clean, I tighten the towel wrapped around my body, clutch my dirty clothes to my chest, and walk quickly to my room. After the door closes behind me, ensuring privacy, I toss the dirty clothes into a pile against the wall and drop the towel. A second later, I slump into bed and close my eyes. I'm exhausted, but my mind won't allow me to relax enough to fall asleep.

  I like giving lap dances, but the private rooms are less enjoyable. I don’t mind the dancing, but fully stripping either in front of a single guy or a group can be off-putting at times. I know that I’m safe and secure since a bouncer stands just inside the door, but it still doesn't make it any easier. The worst part is when they say crude stuff or comment about my body. Yes, most of it is complimentary since no one has ever said anything bad about my curves. It still bothers me though, but when I'm up there on that small stage, I remind myself that it's just a job and that their comments need to bounce off my back and not affect me.

  Dancing in private is where the money happens to be, and I’m proud of how much I'd earned tonight. Money is no longer an issue, and I’m relieved that I have a steady income and a roof over my head.

  Thirty minutes later, I'm still awake.

  I don't know why I can't sleep tonight, and it's frustrating. After I sit up in the bed, I stretch my arms over my head, testing the already tightening muscles. Yep, tomorrow I’m going to be a little sore. I climb out of bed and do a few stretches, and by the time I'm finished, I decide a swim in the pool might relax me. No one's bedroom window faces the pool out back, so it's unlikely that a swim would wake anyone. I slip on one of the few bikinis that I own and silently make my way downstairs. Everything is dark, so those that are home must be sleeping.