Right Where I Want to Be Chapter 3

At the end of the night, which is actually two in the morning, Rose and I are walking side by side when I feel the tingling again. I refuse to turn and look over my shoulder. If he wants to be a creeper, I'm prepared for him. I leave Rose after she gets into her car; I'm bodyguard enough that we don't need a bouncer to walk us out. I'm no longer trussed up in strappy heels and lacy underwear, opting for yoga pants and a tank, my feet slipped into my oldest sneakers. I make my way across the lot to my own car, a Volvo sedan, and just as I drop my purse in, I hear footsteps.

“I should warn you ahead of time that I'm a third-degree black belt in krav maga.” Turning, I see the gorgeous stranger standing several feet away.

“I have no intentions of hurting you,” he replies incredulously. “I just want to ask why you didn't agree to a private dance.”

I study his figure; his hands are in his pants pockets, his suit jacket removed along with his tie. The top few buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and the sleeves are rolled up. “I don't do private anything.”

“Why not?”

He's clearly not happy with my answer, so I simply tell him the truth. “When a customer gets too handsy—and they always do—I have no desire to put that man on the floor with my knee in his throat. It's bad for business.” I blatantly stare at the ever growing bulge in his pants.

“I'll give you five grand to accompany me for a ride in my limousine,” he states. I laugh, long and unladylike.

“No, thanks.”

He frowns adorably. I'm sure no is not in his vocabulary. “Why not?”

I move a little closer to him. “No offense, but I'm not a prostitute, and I'm not accepting your money after hours.”

“Then come with me now, and I'll return tomorrow night with another ten thousand dollar roll for a lap dance,” he asks almost desperately.

“How much?” My eyebrows shoot to my hairline.

“You didn't even count it? It's enough to get you out of this place.”

He's moved forward and so have I. The parking lot lights shine against his hair, which I can now see is a reddish brown color. “Then now is an excellent time to tell you I don't want out of this place.”

He's inches from my face now, his gaze on my mouth, so I purposely bite my lower lip. “I don't understand,” he breathes.

“I'm right where I want to be.” I mean it sincerely, as his eyes lift to lock with mine. They have a dark depth, something reflecting back at me that I can't place, but they're a fascinating shade of green. Deciding to break the tension building between us, I lean in and possess his lips with my own. He tastes like scotch and sin, his cologne tickling my senses as I breathe him in. My tongue snakes out to probe between his lips, and I place one hand on his chest as I devour him.

When I step back, his breathing has accelerated, and I revel in turning the tables on him. “See you around,” I taunt.

I slide smoothly into my car and drive off while he stands there gawking.