I turned my head after she disappeared and looked at Jamie through the window again.

His head was tipped back and his eyes were cast at the ceiling while his fingers tapped the back of the booth. He looked bored.

I smiled. Relax, Loser. The show is just about to start.

Chapter Eight

JAMIE

The door to the room I was in made a clicking noise, indicating it was opening.

Finally. What the fuck?

I tipped my head down to get a look at this chick I’d been waiting on for a fucking minute, eyes already set in a glare ’cause I was bored and wondering where Tori was, if she was here and if she was wondering the same about me, when the object of my attention stepped inside the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

Pressure built in my chest. My back stiffened.

We locked eyes.

The fuck?

“Hey,” Tori whispered, then gave a shaky laugh and looked down, drawing all of her hair over one shoulder. “Uh, right, so I hope you weren’t expecting some big-breasted bimbo wearing pasties and an edible thong. I always found those to be uncomfortable.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

She started moving closer, still in her uniform and still making that shit work for her like she always did.

White shirt, tight across her tits. Shorts showing all that skin I wanted wrapped around me.

“The fuck is this?” I asked, frowning, looking between Tori’s face and the door behind her. “Did Quinn do this?” I met her eyes. “Are you mine?”

Tori froze a foot away, blinking at me. She didn’t speak. If she had a reason for coming in here, it looked like that reason just left her. She seemed lost.

“Legs,” I probed, when she kept with the staring and not speaking routine.

“Mm?”

“What are you doin’ in here, babe?”

I had no fucking idea what was going on, but unless Tori wanted to watch some chick grind all over me, she needed to get what she came for and step out.

She wet her lips. I watched her neck work with a swallow.

“You showed me your dick,” she stated.

I felt my mouth twitch. Fuck yeah. Breathing a laugh, I relaxed back onto the bench, arms spread behind me and hands gripping the black leather cushion. I tipped my head to the side. “See that impression is stickin’,” I said. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“You showed me your dick after I flashed you. That was your move.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. What the fuck was she getting at?

Tori smiled. Her sin-colored lips stretching slow. “This is mine,” she said, lifting her shoulders as if this shit she was declaring wasn’t a big deal, which it sure as fuck was.

This is hers … Oh, fuck me.

Fuck. Me.

Tori moved closer. Whatever smirk I was wearing pulled from my mouth. That pressure built again, in my chest and lower. I shifted on the bench.

“Legs,” I warned, my voice vibrating in my throat as I watched her walk toward me. “What’d I say about takin’ this shit places you can handle? Did you think this through?”

I was willing to bet she didn’t. If she had and knew how this could play out, with her bent over and me buried deep, she wouldn’t be back here.

“Shh.” Tori stopped in front of my knees. “If we talk, I won’t go through with this,” she admitted, sounding anxious. “And I doubt you’d be chattin’ up the girl who was supposed to be in here, so quit it. Just sit there. Shut up. And keep your hands to yourself.”

“You know what you’re doin’?” I asked, looking up at her. “’Cause in this room I’m allowed to touch, babe. Rules are out there.” I tipped my chin at the door, keeping her gaze. “Not in here. In here, I’m participatin’. You don’t like that deal, you better quit now and think of another move, ’cause the second you start takin’ shit off, Legs, I’m on you.”

“Then I guess I don’t need to worry,” Tori shot back, speaking with confidence and smiling again.

The fuck did that mean? My brow tightened. “Say again?”

“I don’t need to worry ’cause I’m not taking anything off, meaning you won’t be on me. I’m just dancing.”

I stared at her for a beat. Then a laugh rumbled in my chest as I thought about how fucked she was.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head all cute. “This is a really good move.”

“I know it is. I ain’t laughing ’cause of that.”

“Then why are you laughing?” She brought her hands to her hips and studied me, looking on the verge of an attitude. Her eyes narrowed. “If you think I need to take my clothes off to win this bet, then you are mistaken, Jamie McCade. I know how you feel about me in this uniform. This is gonna kill you.”

“Legs, hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong, babe. You gotta worry.”

“And why’s that?”

I dropped my arms and sat forward, elbows resting on my thighs. “You start dancin’ on me and I’m touching you,” I promised, watching her blink. “You start dancin’ anywhere in this room and I’m touching you. You don’t gotta strip, babe. I just threw that out there ’cause that’s where I thought this was headed. Telling me you’re makin’ a move and you’re makin’ it in a strip club, I figured you’d be taking shit off, but honest to God, it don’t matter. Like I said before, rules are out there. Not in here. Only way I’m keeping my hands to myself is if I’m fuckin’ dead.”