Chapter 5

Jax

I strode down the long hallway outside the dance rooms, past closed doors and the gentle thump of music, toward the office door at the end of the corridor. It’d been locked yesterday, and I’d been drawn in by Riley’s little performance instead.

Today, I was on a fucking mission.

Buy the studio. Claim the girl.

Once that was done, I’d get back to my life of dominance, and of ruling over the real estate landscape of Miami.

I halted in front of the office door, a cheap brown wood labeled with a plaque proclaiming OFFICE on it, and knocked once.

“Yeah?” A voice called out. A woman’s voice.

Surprising. I’d expected a man to own a joint like this, a gay man, in fact. That’d been the case at the last studio I’d bought.

I turned the doorknob and opened up, working that cocky swagger I’d cultivated over the years. My walk was my power—it showed people exactly what to expect. Ownership. And unswerving obedience, from them to me, of course.

I stepped inside the tiny office, beige carpets and cream walls, then halted.

My jaw didn’t drop. I didn’t let any sign of shock show in my expression, but tension seeped down my spine.

Riley sat behind a distressed oak desk, her hair tied up in a messy bun atop her head, a couple strands escaping to frame her face. Those brown, hazel-flecked eyes widened. She had no compunctions about showing her emotions.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I think you know,” I said and shut the door behind me. “In fact, I’m sure you know. You didn’t tell me yesterday you own this place.”

“Was I obligated to?” she asked, but a flicker of guilt came and went, wrinkling that normally smooth brow.

Christ, it smelled strongly of lavender and vanilla in here. Did she just give it off? It was an insane smell, so thick, but light. Memories of last night, my name on her lips, the ecstasy of coming for her, stalled me.

“If you’re here to discuss purchasing my establishment, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

I strode two steps to the tattered seat in front of her desk and gripped the back of it, a half-smile twisting the corner of my mouth. “That so?”

“That’s so.”

“I beg to differ,” I replied. “See, you’re obviously caught in a spot of financial trouble, Riley—”

“Miss Robinson,” she said.

I chuckled. “You’re sleeping in your studio, or you were until last night, and now, you’re sleeping in my apartment. I know you’re struggling. Let me buy this place and get rid of it for you. Get rid of the burden. Imagine what you could do with that money.”

“I won’t.”

“Why, got no imagination? Didn’t read when you were a kid?” I asked.

“I’m struggling to picture you reading,” she replied. “Those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“You could start your own practice with that money,” I said. “Become a therapist. Or you could open up another studio.”

“No.” Riley’s firm tone turned me on.

Fuck, she was so sexy when she spoke like that. So sure of herself and what she wanted. Funny thing was, she was sexy when she spoke like a machine gun too. Nerves and confidence all twined into one. I couldn’t understand it.

“I’ll pay you above market it for it.” The words popped out before I could stop them, and damn, that was truly shocking. I didn’t give people good deals. I was fair, yeah, but I didn’t screw myself.

Except for last night.

“No,” she repeated. “I’m not selling this studio. I bought it. I paid my dues, and I’ll make this business work. That’s all there is to it.”

Frustration bubbled in my gut. The solution was so simple. If she took my money, she could start a new life for herself. Whatever problems haunted her would disappear. She’d have access to money now instead of in thirty days. “Why?” I asked. “Why not sell when it could help you out, Riley? Why so damn stubborn?”

“It’s—There’s more to it than that,” she replied. “This studio once belonged to my great aunt.”

“OK?”

“She was the only one in my family who supported my dancing career. The others pretty much scoffed at me when I told them I wanted to own a studio, run it, and share my passion.”

“So she left this to you?” I asked.

“No, she died suddenly and hadn’t paid the loans on this place. It was a while before I could get my hands on it, and now that I have it, I’m not letting it go. It’s not just sentimental value, King, this is the perfect spot for me. Right across from a fitness center, a health restaurant. It’s central and—”

“That’s exactly why I want it,” I replied, a smirk tweaking the corner of my mouth. “Prime real estate. A game changer.”

“You really think a strip club will fit in here?”

I didn’t rise to her bait. “I think,” I said, “when I want something I get it, and that selling this place to me will solve all your problems.”

Is that really what you want? If you get the business, she’ll have no reason to stay in your apartment. The apartment I usually didn’t sleep in. But I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather be tonight. No hotel, no trip to another city.

Riley’s business—fuck, Riley herself—was my new obsession. And once I cultivated an obsession, I had to fulfill it.

“We’ll discuss this over dinner,” I said and checked my watch. It was past seven, and the purple dusk had already set outside her office window, lavender like her scent. Miami was beautiful at this hour, on the outside at least. Inside my strip clubs, the men had arrived. They sat in the smoke and haze of lust and watched women dance, twirl, shake their asses, all while their wives and girlfriends waited at home.

I’d never understood it, but goddamn if I didn’t capitalize on it.

Riley knocked her knuckles on the desk. “I’m sorry, what?”

“There’s no need to apologize, Miss Robinson, even though you are making me wait. I believe your classes are done for the evening, if the schedule beside Dance Room A is correct. It’s time for us to head back to the apartment.”

“I—I didn’t agree to stay.”

“Didn’t you? We settled this last night, remember?” Last night when she’d moaned my name next door. “You have nowhere else to go.”

“You can’t muscle me into living in your guest room.”

“Muscle you?” I laughed. “Riley, I seldom offer anything twice. I won’t offer a third time. This is your choice, and I’m giving you five seconds to make it. I’ve got business meetings stacked tomorrow, and I need my beauty rest.” The last two words came out twisted with sarcasm.

I turned to go, and she scrape-bumped her chair over the carpeting. “Wait,” she said. “I—fine, I’ll stay there. But I’m paying rent at the end of the month, and I don’t want a special deal. I want the normal price.”

“Fine by me,” I replied and stepped to one side, placed my hand on the doorknob, and turned it. “Come.”

She circled her desk, grabbed her handbag on the way, then looked down at herself.

Riley wore nothing but a pair of yoga pants, no panty lines, and a black exercise bra, an oversized shirt hanging open over it.

Mouth-fucking-watering.

Christ, how was a man supposed to cope around her? Regular dudes probably keeled over gripping their dicks and cracked their skulls on the sidewalk as she passed. She wasn’t a model. She was what women wanted to be.

“And?” I asked. Hey, my mouth still works. Fantastic. She hasn’t robbed me of all the blood in my brain yet.

“And—and, nothing. Nothing except that I think I forgot my coat in the other room, but it doesn’t matter, everything will be fine. I’m not cold. I don’t need warming up.”

“Are you sure?” I asked and stepped toward her, stripped off my suit jacket, and held it out. “This is warmer than that shirt.”

Riley stared at the jacket as if I’d offered her a viper.

“It’s not going to bite you,” I said. “I might, though.”

“Are you threatening me?” Riley asked and blinked at me, fucking glinting with excitement, desire. She took the jacket and fumbled with the sleeves, stuck her arm in the wrong one then tut-tutted at herself. “Because I don’t take well to threats or ultimatums, you know. I’m the kind of woman who goes against the grain. That usually pisses people off. If you think I’m going to do what you want me to then you’re wrong. I’ll do what’s best for—”

I took a step toward her, so close she gulped, and I heard it, loud and clear. “You’re doing it again,” I said.

“What?”

“Talking like you’ve got a motor running your mouth. I’m making you nervous.” The smirk came easily to me. “I don’t make threats, Riley. I’ll only bite you if you want me to.” Her nipples had puckered beneath the stretchy fabric of her sports bra. I looked down at them, and she did too, her cheeks flushing red hot. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What?” She managed, the jacket hanging from her arm, dangling at her side.

“You want me to,” I replied then took the jacket from her, straightened it out, and hung it around her shoulders, my fingers brushing that silken skin on her neck. “There.” I leaned in and adjusted the collar, my breath on her ear. “That’s better.”

She let out a tiny whimper, a replay of the noises she’d made last night, and my already stiff cock strained against my pants. It brushed against her abdomen, and Riley gasped.

“Do you need anything else?” I asked.

She stammered noises.

“From your office before we leave, just to clarify.” She needed my dick, that much was clear. She needed it as bad as I needed her tight little cunt.

“No,” she said.

“Then let’s go.” I moved to the side and placed my hand on the small of her back then guided her toward the exit.

Riley opened the door on a blessedly empty hallway, and we walked down it together. Each step was more painful than the last. Pain and pleasure. Tension. I had to get her out of those clothes soon or I’d lose my mind.

The longer she resisted, the more I needed it. And I didn’t need anything or anyone.

I had to get rid of this feeling before it entered dangerous territory.

I’d already connected with her over her issues. Already granted too much.

“I don’t have money for a cab,” she said. “I need to go draw some cash from the ATM.”

“My car’s outside.” We walked out into the warm night air, which smelled faintly of citrus and spice. It didn’t detract from her scent. It only made me want her more.

Damn, my dick was still hard. Still straining for her.

I waited for her to lock up the studio, studying the side of her face, the smooth slope of her neck down to her collarbones then the breasts beneath them, nipples still hard for me.

“Quickly,” I growled. “It’s getting late.”

Riley was silent as we walked to the car. I opened the passenger-side door of the BMW, and she slid onto the leather seat, tucked her shapely legs inside, and rested her handbag on her thighs.

Soon, I’d have my head in-between them.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at my apartment building. Another ten and we were inside, in the kitchen. I ached for her, still. I leaked precum for her, as I had the night before.

Riley placed her handbag on the granite countertop and stared at me, silent.

I undid the first few buttons of my shirt, exposing the tattoos there, the swirling tribals, the depictions of beasts. My devils. My angels. The empty patch strategically left clear over my heart, never to be filled.

“What do you want?” I asked. “Apart from a place to stay, Riley. What do you need? I want to hear it from your lips, not just see it in your eyes.”

“I need—” She straightened her back, pressed her chest outward. “I need—”

“Yeah?”