StripperwithSpice (20 page)

Once we’re inside and naked with the hot water running,
though, I forget everything except the sexy man in front of me. Water sluices
through his hair, making it blacker and shinier than ever. We both squirt the
pearly soap into our palms from the wall dispenser and rub it over each other’s
sweaty bodies.

My skin burns everywhere he touches and every part of him I
touch, I swear, is harder than ever before and as sculpted as carved wood. His
buttocks are rock-solid and the furrows of his belly might as well have been
cast in concrete. Hardest of all is his cock and the slippery length of it
presses against my belly, making my abdomen hollow with need.

He soaps my breasts, and his wet fingers pinch and roll my
nipples. The assault leaves me breathless and slumping against the shower wall.

His fingers dig into my hips as he kisses me, his mouth
hotter and wetter than the water beating over us. When he inserts a finger into
my swollen cunt, I moan into the roar of the shower. He pushes it deep and
flutters it, reminding me of how he took me from behind Sunday night.

The shower water courses down my body, forming a waterfall
over my shaved folds. I ride his finger hard while my hands slide across the
slick soap on his chest. With each thrust, my leg muscles, already wobbly from
the workout, weaken until it’s difficult to stand.

“Your bare, slippery cunt has me so hot I need to fuck you
right now,” he says in my ear. “But I don’t have a condom. Okay?”

What?
He’s always had a condom, even during that
risky strip club maneuver. Didn’t he once say carrying them around was as
automatic as fastening his seat belt? He probably doesn’t feel like going to
his locker to get it right now, or maybe he’s decided to take our relationship
to the next level.

Condom or no condom, the initial shock of seeing that text
message put me out of the mood for the entire night. Even though I trust him,
his connections to so many people will take some getting used to.

Disappointment flashes across his face when I shake my head.
Let him think I’m ovulating or something.

“Suck me, then.” He cups his erection and points it at me.
“I have to come, Janice.”

I sit on the plastic bench. Remembering the last time he
tried to teach me trust by penetrating my throat, I wish I hadn’t agreed to
this. All I want tonight is quick, easy sex so I can be alone to sort
everything out.

My fingers slide across his wet belly as I guide his
straining hardness into my mouth. Each thrust echoes inside my starving pussy,
which grinds against the hard, wet bench. The spicy taste of him tempts me to
spread my legs for him on the shower floor, condom or not.

The rush of water reminds me of a river, hurtling us toward
a crossroads. What if I lose him? Even though my mind needs to push him away to
think, the rest of my body clamors to draw him closer. I have to get out of
this shower now!

As soon as the plump head of his shaft, hot and slippery,
pushes against the back of my throat, every cell in my body jumps to war. Half
of me opens to let him in, but the other half must keep him out at all costs.

My fingers dig into his hips, keeping him in suspension.

“We agreed to work on this, Janice.”

His reminder of our last trust lesson sends a sweet tingle
through my buttocks. Had I really opened up to his entire cock back there? If I
managed to do that, why can’t I do this now? Is my promotion in the shower with
us, forming a wall?

“Trust me, damn it!” Carlos’ honey-gold voice sounds
unusually rough and a small spasm ripples through his hips as if he’s
struggling with self-restraint.

I push him away and his cock slips out of my mouth. “I
can’t. Not here.”

“Then when?” Muttering, he flips off the water and grabs our
towels and gym clothes hanging just outside on a hook.

I don’t answer as I snatch a towel from his hand and put it
around me. Wadding my exercise clothes into a ball, I shove it under my arm. A
locker door slams nearby, inflaming my frazzled nerves even more. As I sneak
back to the women’s locker room, I don’t even care who sees me. This night has
been a disaster.

In the parking lot, I accidentally step in a puddle. The
sound of cars, splashing water with their wet tires, magnifies the coldness
lodged in my chest. Inside his car, the heat blasts, chasing the damp chill
from my open pores. Rain slashes across the windshield, mutating the gym’s neon
sign to jagged lines and matching our somber moods.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Carlos scrubs his hand
across his face, looking older than his thirty years. “This gym is my man cave,
my inner sanctum. I trusted you enough to let you inside. Why can’t you trust
me?”

“We can’t have unprotected sex without discussing it first.
For one thing, I’m not on birth control.”

He shifts in his seat. “You’re absolutely right. That was
stupid of me. You looked so sexy in the shower I got caught up in the moment.”

“If I sleep with you unprotected, I’m also sleeping with
every woman you ever slept with in the past. Judging from your contact list,
that could be quite a few.”

“My phone. Damn.” With one hand on the wheel and the other
palm up, he glances at me with pained, dark eyes. “They’re just family,
friends, customers and, okay, probably some old flames I need to clean out. I
certainly haven’t slept with all of them. In the future I’ll be more open about
my lunch dates.”

I put up a hand. “It’s okay. I’m not upset.”

“I can see that.” His eyes narrow at me. “It’s as if you
don’t even care anymore.”

In a way I don’t. If I’d seen that text message before, the
doubts would eat me alive and make me think the worst. Either the job security
formed a protective barrier around my heart or I’m learning to trust him, one
step at a time.

“I have to get home, Carlos.”

He puts the car in gear and we leave the gym parking lot. “I
can give you a bill of health signed by my doctor. Believe it or not, I’ve only
had unprotected sex in a few serious relationships.”

I nod, processing the information.

“I consider this a serious relationship,” he adds, pulling
onto the highway. “I need to feel the bare skin of your pussy with nothing
between us.”

My cunt tightens as I imagine his naked cock inside of me. I
close the door on the image. Right now it’s too scary. Even scarier is the
thought of going on birth control pills for a man who may not be in my life
forever.

“I want that too, but please give me some time. I have a lot
going on right now.”

“Your promotion,” he states in a flat voice.

I look away from the oncoming headlights. “You don’t sound
very happy for me.”

“I’m trying to.” He grips the steering wheel harder. “But it
seemed to change you overnight.”

“I just don’t want to screw it up. There’s a girl at the
office who probably can’t wait to make me look bad. Like I said, give me some
time.”

He nods. “I understand, but don’t sweat it so much. If your
job doesn’t work out, I promised to take care of you.”

“I appreciate that, Carlos. I really do, but I have to take
care of myself.”

“Because you still don’t trust me.”

I rub my aching forehead. This night is just getting worse
and worse. I wish now I’d spent it alone.

He adjusts the wiper speed. “I put myself out there too, you
know. What happened to me Sunday night doesn’t…has never…happened to me…with a
girl.”

Remembering his intense emotions cracks the mysterious wall
surrounding me and I reach for his hand.

“I want to trust you,” I say quietly. “All I can think about
right now is that I finally have job security.”

His fingers squeeze back. “Do you? Is any job secure? You
trusted your last one and look what happened.”

“That’s a low blow.” I pull my hand back, almost wishing I
hadn’t gotten promoted so things wouldn’t be ruined between us. If I had to
choose, though, I’d pick the promotion over him. It’s more solid and safe,
despite what he says.

“Janice, I love you. Your job doesn’t. Just be careful where
you put your trust. That’s all I’m saying.”

We ride in silence the rest of the way to my apartment. The
car still handles fairly well on wet pavement. I wish our relationship did. In
the parking lot, he leaves the motor running and turns to face me.

“I assume you don’t want me to come up,” he says.

“Not tonight. My head is killing me.”

I wince because it sounds like the old headache excuse, but
I’m not making it up. The surprise of the promotion combined with the workout
and tension between us has bound my head with painful metal bands. Besides, sex
with Carlos tends to make me lose control, which I can’t afford right now with
my new responsibilities at work.

He takes both my hands, stroking his thumbs deep into my
palms, and I finally face him. The nearby streetlight shining through the rain
on the windshield casts shadowy patterns on his tense face.

“You scared me tonight. I don’t want to lose you,” he
admits.

My fingers tighten around his. “You’re not going to lose
me.”

“How long do you need to be alone? Do you want to see me
this weekend?”

Yes. No.
It’s time to ask him to the gala. I take a
deep breath.

“My company is having a big anniversary gala Saturday
night.”

He cocks his head. “Is that a genuine invitation or are you
too embarrassed to bring your stripper boyfriend?”

I turn away from his penetrating dark eyes. I can’t hide
anything from this man. Not one thought. Not one feeling.

“I’m not embarrassed!” I pull my hands from his and clasp
them into a knot. “Trendler Trust is a very conservative company and I’m not
sure how they’d feel about it if they found out.”

He shrugs. “So don’t tell them.”

I have to ask him. If I don’t, our relationship will die and
I’ll feel like a snooty bitch.

“I’d like you to come.” I swallow hard. “Do you have a tux?”

His lips quirk up in a half-smile. “I’ve got a black
tear-away and a white one. Which do you prefer?”

He’s being such a good sport about this I want to hug him
and never let go.

“And you wonder why I had a hard time asking?”

“I’m joking. I have a real tux and I promise I won’t do any
lap dances.”

My cheeks flame. “I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to. You’ve been wrestling with this all
evening, haven’t you?”

I touch his knee. “Don’t hate me. I just can’t afford to
lose this job.”

“I could never hate you,
querida
. You’ve come to my
place of work. It’s only natural I come to yours.” He kisses my forehead. “We
can have it all—our jobs and each other. You’ll see.”

I hope so. The sensation of being pulled between him and my
career sickens my stomach. I kiss him on the lips, clinging to the taste of him
while my feet literally itch to jump out of the car.

“Shall I walk you up?” he asks.

If he does, we might end up in bed. “I can manage.”

“Then turn a light on so I know you made it safely inside.”

“I will.” When I close the car door, the warmth of safety
wraps around me, shielding me from the damp night air. Whether the security
comes from my job or my man, I don’t know. I just hope I never lose it.

I’ve never been prouder of Carlos in my life as we walk
through the lobby doors of an expensive hotel in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia,
Saturday night. Against the backdrop of nearby office buildings and night sky,
he’s a vision of perfection in his black tux. My hand rests in the crook of his
arm, savoring the muscle beneath that fills out the fabric, while my heart sits
on top of my stomach.

The marble lobby, decorated with Christmas wreaths and a
tall tree wrapped in white lights, creates elegance so palpable I can almost
taste it. Our shoes echo on the spotless floor, and a nearby elevator chimes,
reminding me of the day I won the fantasy date with him in a raffle.

Please let tonight be perfect.

Because of the promotion, I treated myself to a new dress.
It’s backless and made of rich blue taffeta. Best of all, it was on sale. I
chose the color to go with the sapphire earrings Carlos had given me. I even
got my hair done so that half of it is pinned up and the other half hangs down
straight.

“You look like a corporate goddess,” Carlos remarks as we
walk toward the jazzy music spilling from the ballroom doors.

“And you look like a corporate god. I love the glasses.”
Black, with plastic frames, they give him a devastatingly powerful corporate
look. He’s so handsome I almost trip over my feet. Any doubts I’d had about how
he’d fit in here are completely gone.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he grasps my hands and
turns them palms up.

“Checking for nail grooves.”

“I’m all right now.”

“Good.” He gives my hands a reassuring squeeze before
dropping them. “Besides, losing your job wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

I stop at a mirror before we enter the ballroom. “They used
a flat iron on me at the beauty salon. I can’t wait to get one so I can control
my mop.”

He catches my gaze in the mirror. “Don’t you dare. Your hair
looks nice for this occasion, but it isn’t you. I like your curls.”

He’s right. I definitely don’t feel like myself.

“I like your ass even better,” he whispers as he briefly
cups half of it.

With my cheeks flaming from embarrassment, my head whips
left and right to see who might have witnessed it.

“No one was looking,” he assures me. “I checked.”

With a last glance at the strange, straight-haired woman in
the mirror, I enter the ballroom on Carlos’ arm.

Approval shines from everyone’s eyes when meeting him, and
when I hear “congratulations” I’m not sure if people are referring to my
promotion or my ability to land such a hunk.

My heart does backflips in my chest as if it’s a giant whale
when I pull Carlos toward the introduction I dread most. My boss. Predictably
her eyes light up with appreciation too.

“So nice to meet you,” Harriet titters as Carlos takes her
hand. “Janice works so hard we never dreamed she had such a handsome young man
tucked away.”

Young?
Oh, crap.
Has she realized he’s over a decade
younger than I? Maybe I should have drawn some wrinkles on his face with my
eyeliner pencil.

“Thank you, Ms. Crawford,” he replies in his clear-as-honey
voice. “May I add how lovely you look this evening?”

To my relief, he handles himself perfectly as if he’s been
navigating high society his entire life. Is this conservative, reserved man and
wild, hip-swinging Cool Hand Carlos really the same person?

“Am I doing okay so far?” he whispers.

We drift to the bar to get drinks—ginger ale for him and a
glass of white wine for me.

“Are you kidding? You’re perfect.”

When he gives me a nervous half-smile I realize how hard
he’s working to make this night special for me. If we weren’t in public, I’d
take him in my arms right now and plant a big kiss on his mouth.

In the midst of working hard all week, my mind kept drifting
back to our tense night at the gym. He deserves more than a woman who can’t
trust him.

“I forgot to show you this.” Setting his ginger ale down on
a nearby table, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulls up the contacts and
hands it to me.

“I don’t want to think about that now,” I say, turning my
head.

“Check it out.”

With my finger, I scroll through the markedly reduced list
of names. The male ones now approximately equal the female ones.

“It was about time I cleaned it up. I can give you full
explanations of the ones that are left.” He takes the phone back. “This one,
for example, just got married. See, I even identified the ones associated with
businesses with a special icon.”

“Carlos, put the phone away. I trust you.”

“Good.”

Enough to forego condoms and take him into my throat, I
don’t know, but I decide not to stress over his phone anymore. Remembering I’m
here for work, I pull my focus off our relationship and look around. A small
line has formed at the buffet table.

I tug his sleeve. “Time to get dinner.”

“I eat like a pig.” He makes a soft snorting sound to prove
it.

“You do not. Now behave yourself.”

“And what do I get if I behave myself tonight?”

“A surprise.” We’ll both deserve dynamite sex after this.

As we walk toward the end of the line, Carlos pauses and
frowns as his gaze locks on Tiffin. She wears a simple black sheath dress with
one diagonal yellow stripe, reminding me of a black widow spider.

“I’ll introduce you to Tiffin later,” I say, steering him
on. “I think I need to eat and get my strength up first.”

“Is she the girl who resents your promotion?”

My heart thuds to my feet and rolls around in my high heels.
“You know her,” I whisper. “So help me if you’ve slept with her, I’ll never
touch you again.”

He presses my elbow with a reassuring grip. “No. I’ve never
even met her or I’d have remembered that weird name. I’ve seen her at the club
though.”

My appetite vanishes as I absentmindedly fork some salad
onto a clean plate. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” Behind me, he creates a large salad, which
will probably be the bulk of his meal. “I’ll pretend I don’t recognize her.”

Crap!
My stomach, and my appetite along with it,
leaves for good. Why did I risk bringing him to the most important event of my
career? I should have known the world is too small to keep secrets.

We take our seats. Unfortunately we end up across from my
boss and her husband and, to their left, Tiffin and her date. With satisfaction
I notice her man isn’t nearly as handsome as mine, but I have bigger things to
worry about now. The snarky expression that perches on her face when she meets
Carlos tells me she recognizes him too.

She touches her date’s hand as it rests on the table. “What
cool hands you have, honey.”

Yeah, she obviously knows about Cool Hand Carlos. Luckily no
one else around her seems to know what she’s talking about, including her date.

Please let this evening be over. Let’s just skip to the
wild-sex-after-we-get-home part.

From what everyone is saying about the chicken with capers
entrée, I’m sure it’s good, but it tastes wooden to me. Finally we get to
dessert and the CEO of the company makes his speech—the usual fare of the
company’s mission, key challenges and review of the year.

“Let’s see,” he adds, adjusting his glasses. “I believe we
have a few announcements.”

I pick at my slice of raspberry cheesecake. When my name is
called, I barely hear it. Carlos touches my arm to get my attention.

“Let’s give a big congratulations to Janice Sullivan, our
new manager of analysis and reporting.”

After almost dropping my fork on the floor, I stand, wishing
everyone would stop staring at me and clapping. I smile, nod and try my best to
look both grateful and professional, but the thought of the new responsibility
swamps my body with a wave of nausea. What had Carlos said before about how
work is supposed to be fun? My new position will be anything but. What if I
can’t handle it?

“Thank you all so much,” I say, clenching a handful of my
dress skirt in a death grip. “I’m going to give my new position everything I
have and then some.”

“I bet you are,” Tiffin mutters after I sit down. By the
suggestive look she gives Carlos, I can tell what she means by position.

I concentrate on my smile, trying my best not to faint
headfirst onto my dinner plate.

The CEO smiles. “I’m done talking now. Let’s dance.”

“Yes, Carlos,” Tiffin pipes up while the audience is still
quiet. “Give us a table dance.”

My temples throb. All I want to do is plead a headache and
leave early, but that would only draw more attention to us. I sneak a glance at
Carlos. His face is almost as pale as the white tablecloth. To my relief, he
pretends he hasn’t heard it. Everyone else has though. Tiffin’s date adjusts
his tie in annoyance and my boss exchanges a confused look with her husband.

Without a word, he takes my hand like the gentleman he is
and escorts me to the dance floor. As soon as we start dancing, I’m back in his
brother’s restaurant doing the tango with him while his family watches.

I’d much rather be there relaxing instead of here, having my
every move observed.

“We should go,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “If we run out of here now, everyone
will wonder if there’s any truth in her words. Don’t give that little bitch the
satisfaction.”

“You’re right.” Despite everything that’s happened, I still
melt into his arms as he spins me around.

“You’re dancing too well,” I tell him after a complex spin.
“People are staring at us.”

He grins at me. “Sorry. I got carried away. I’ll try to
dance as if I’m a stiff-legged nerd.”

When he jerks and moves in robotic motions, I laugh into his
shoulder. “Not that stiff. Now people are staring because they think you’re
weird.”

“Picky. Picky. Then how about if I practice my new routine
for the club? The high jumps ought to get their attention.”

I shoot him the fiercest glare I can muster. “Are you trying
to give me an anxiety attack?”

“No, but you’d better make me come at least twice after
putting up with this,” he groans into my ear.

“Three times,” I promise as anticipatory heat builds under
my evening gown.

While the music shifts to a slow number, he removes his
jacket. At first, I don’t think anything of it. I’m just glad he’s not flinging
it in circles over his head.

I grab it. “No, you can’t take that off.”

“I’m hot,” he complains. “I don’t want to sweat up my only
tux. I might want to wear it to a wedding sometime.”

Remembering the look on his face in the jewelry store near
the engagement rings twists a hot knife of guilt into my ribs.

My hand covers his arm. “But your tattoos are showing
through your shirtsleeves.”

“So?” Disappointment cools his warm eyes as he puts the
jacket back on. “I get it. You’re ashamed of me.”

“No! It’s just—”

He puts up a hand. “You don’t need to say it. This isn’t my
scene anyway. Let’s get out of here.”

Damn Tiffin for ruining this evening and possibly my job,
but part of me knows this isn’t entirely her fault. Usually Carlos’ tattoos
make me hot. The one of the eagle melts my heart every time I look at it. He
risked his job for me, making love to me in a public place, and I can’t even
let him take off his jacket.

I feel like the world’s biggest bitch, but I can’t seem to
help myself. What’s wrong with me? It’s as if I’m seeing him through the eyes
of Trendler Trust now instead of my own. I’ve become my job.

After we say our goodbyes to everyone, we head outside and
wait for the valet to bring his car around. The stiff breeze chills me inside
my thin evening jacket.

“It’s funny, Janice. You used to be so worried you didn’t
fit into my world. Now I don’t fit into yours.”

Although he sounds calm, the way he rubs his cheek tells me
otherwise. I stare at the ground, feeling chilled to the core. At this rate,
we’ll never have sex again, let alone hot sex. I want to explain,
apologize…something, but my jaw is frozen with confusion.

Why did I think I could keep the two things that matter most
to me separate? What will I do if I’m forced to choose between them?

* * * * *

Over a week later on Sunday afternoon, I pace in my kitchen
as I wait for Carlos to arrive. The heat has been running all day, battling the
fall chill. We haven’t seen or contacted each other for over a week because we
agreed I needed some time to settle into my new promotion.

Although I’d sweated buckets Monday morning, nothing
resulted from bringing him as my date except a few compliments from the staff
about how handsome he was. For the moment, anyway, I would not have to choose
between my man and my job.

But what if Tiffin decides to tell everyone about Carlos’
profession and causes big problems for me? Would I still be willing to continue
my relationship with him? I hate the fact I can’t answer that.

Despite being busy at work, I couldn’t stop seeing the hurt
on his face after the gala and each time I did it pierced me with guilt. How
could I treat him like that? It would serve me right if he never spoke to me
again. Why haven’t I called him to try to repair our relationship? Part of me
figures it’s no use because he’s probably fed up with me. The other part
hesitates because of my job. This limbo can’t last forever, but for now it
spares me the pain of an ending.

A knock on the door sends my heart lurching into my throat. After
he enters, we stand there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. He’s
wearing a blue cotton shirt, unbuttoned enough to show a tempting glimpse of
sculpted chest and a simple gold chain.

My breath stalls in my chest. Seeing him in person reminds
me of all the joy and excitement he’s brought into my life. Hell no, I don’t
want to lose this man! But what if it’s already too late? Did he come here to
end it?