THE CHANGES TO THE CLUB were only glaringly obvious to those who’d been here often enough to know how things worked at Dirty. I knew, of course, about the stages they added. The new ones were a little lower than the bars they had been doing their hourly spotlight dances on for the past couple of years to ensure they could spice things up and get realllllly up close and personal. I had seen enough hotness in my past visits to know that before they could get closer to the ladies they were hot enough, so I was almost giddy to see how things would change.
A few men I didn’t recognize walked around, all dressed in something similar to the dress shirt, slacks, and suspenders that Shane favors. It was another reason I was about to come alive with excitement—knowing that when I told Shane how hot it made me when he danced with suspenders, it became the unofficial uniform for Filthy night. A shiver races down my spine when I think about the sound those suspenders make when they’re cracking against someone’s skin.
I was so lost in my thoughts that when two hands grabbed my hips and pulled me back against a hard body, I screamed, making a few heads turn in my direction. Then the familiar scent of cologne and hard work hit my nose.
Shane.
Home.
“Scare you?”
I nod, my head moving against his shoulder. When his stubbled cheek rubs against mine, I shiver at the same time his lips press against my jaw. His hands move, arms wrapping around my belly, and I’m pressed even tighter. Something about his embrace makes a chill slice through me. And nothing’s pleasant about that chill either.
“I thought you changed your mind about coming,” he says, lips pressed against the sensitive skin under my ear. I press my hands against his forearms and rub, hoping to soothe whatever has him acting weird.
“I’m not late, honey,” I say, glad that we’re not within the main club and I don’t have to scream over people.
“You’re not on time either. I go on in fifteen minutes.”
It takes a little effort, but I get him to release me enough to turn around. My hands curl around his neck, and my head tips back to look up at him.
Damn, he’s so good looking.
“What’s on your mind?” He doesn’t answer, not with words. However, the worry that I see flash in his eyes is enough for me to know something is really wrong. “Shane?”
His eyes dart back and forth, studying my own intently.
It feels like time stands still. The pounding tunes coming through the doorway at the end of the hallway fade away. The chatter of people walking around the club, nothing but a buzz. It’s just Shane and me, nothing and no one else. I’m sure we’re only really standing there—both silent, but both saying a whole heck of a lot with that silence.
Mine, I’m sure, is troubled but still hopeful.
His, though … his look is resigned to something close to dread.
“What is it, mon beau?” I ask, using the words for my handsome that Liberty had taught me. His eyes flash, but just as quickly as that adoration had flickered, it was gone. “Shane? You’re scaring me even more now.”
“Fuck.” He drops his gaze, and his forehead presses against mine. I wait, my heart pounding, and hope that it’s just his nerves. When he looks back up, the intense pull of his features is smoothed out, and he’s the same Shane that I fell asleep looking at last night. “Just a little stressed, chèrie. I’m sorry.”
My relieved exhale is obvious, and he winces. “You’ve danced on the bar a million times, Shane. What is there to be stressed about? They’re going to eat this up, honey.”
He shakes his head, not answering, and kisses me deep—desperately. I eat it up, his strange mood making me feel the same urgency. When he pulls away, he doesn’t have that tight look again, but I can see he’s still holding something back. The same thing I’ve felt dragging us down over the past couple of weeks. Not wanting to add to his stress, I make myself a promise to ask him about it when things slow down and we can head home.
One thing’s for sure … I don’t plan on leaving here without knowing what’s got him acting like he’s seeing me for the last time.
We walk into the club hand in hand. Her eyes scan the expanse of the room, a smile curving her lips, and her hand tightens when she does a little jump of excitement at seeing how insane it is in here tonight.
As expected, we hit max capacity in the club thirty minutes after opening the door almost two hours ago. No one knew quite what to expect, but with the buzz and marketing focusing on things getting Filthy at Dirty Dog, one could guess. That excitement had only grown to insurmountable levels since then. Everyone was eager to know what would be coming. Drinks flowing quicker than before, draining a few of our bars to the point that we’ve had to keep an extra bartender just to run into the stockroom to grab more bottles. We hadn’t even had a single spotlight dance, let alone used one of the new stages yet, and people were still foaming at the mouth for more.
When the lights go out and our spotlights take on a whole new level, I imagine that it’s going to go from excited to insane in a blink of an eye. Don’t get me wrong; I was over the fucking moon thrilled for the success, and I knew that would only grow when they saw what we had planned. But, on the flip side, I had been dreading this night since the day we started rolling out the steps to make it come to fruition.
All I could think about was if I was trading the club’s success for my relationship.
With everything in my life, I had a firm grasp on … except what would happen when Nikki got to see just what it was like to have to really share her man with hundreds of horny women. To see what I looked like when I was in character for them and not the me that’s all hers. To put it mildly, I had lost control and I was frantic to find a way to take the reins back.
“This is amazing!” Nikki screams, looking up at me with a twinkle in her eye.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“I need to go get ready,” I tell her, my words tasting like the same shit I feel churning in my gut.
That beautiful face just continues to beam. Looking at me like I spun the fucking moon just for her.
“Which stage?” she asks, blue eyes bright.
I point at the two in the middle of the large dance area. The two purposely placed front and center. “There.”
“And the best place for me? Do you still want me to stay at the bar?”
I nod, wishing like hell I could just force her to leave. Oh, how I had hoped she would want to watch it from my office. I should have known better.
“Knock ‘em dead, tiger,” she singsongs, smacking my ass on her way to the bar. Her ass swaying as she goes.
Instead of running after her like I wish I could, I turn and walk toward my office to take off my pants and go from commando club co-owner to black underwear that barely contains my cock stripper. I can only pray that, by the end of the night, I’m able to find a way to take control back of my life … and my future with Nikki.
My fingers had just closed around my glass when the lights went from dim to black. Instead of everyone screaming in panic, which would only be a normal reaction to such a sudden shift, they go insane—hyped up on the unknown promise that had been billed high and low.
Then, the beat.
The subtle change of the all too familiar song that got a new breath of life when Magic Mike came out. How cliché but how perfect. I turn on my stool, the move much easier now that no one is crowding in behind me trying to order a drink. The pressure of them pushing in had stopped when the lights went out as excited girls looked around for what was coming.
That’s when the spotlights start popping on. One after the other, highlighting one stage after the next, all holding one very good-looking man. Until finally, the last two are lit up.
Shane and Nate, both of them in the center of the room.
That’s when things go from insane to ridiculous.
The men who happen to be here tonight don’t move from their spots near the various bars around the club. All the women rush forward, trying to get the best spot at any mini-stage they can reach, but it’s obvious by their numbers that they want the two owners the most.
Nate’s cocky self is eating it up, his smirk looking mad with hyper activity.
Shane’s eyes aren’t eating up the crowd at his feet, though. Not even when Nate starts moving in sync with the other bodies. It takes him a second, but I can see the exact moment he puts himself aside and becomes the man who dances for others. Someone who moves for seduction, looking every bit the man who loves this but with eyes dead.
By the time he had shed everything but his tight black underwear, the kind that looks a whole lot like a Speedo, I’m about to come out of my skin with need for him. My body warring with my mind—my body needing what only he can do to it, and my mind terrified at what I see when those dead eyes search the room at the same time his knees hit the ground and he grinds that magical cloth-covered cock of his in the face of some stranger.
He’s just looking in my direction, and I know, had he been able to see me, he would be looking for the sole purpose of testing me for my reaction to what’s happening. It’s then at that moment that I realize the man I was hopelessly in love with, trusting with every fiber of my being, didn’t trust me at all.
It doesn’t matter anymore that I love seeing him do this. It doesn’t matter that I love every single part of him—good, bad, and ugly. It doesn’t matter what we had built up until now. The only thing that mattered was that I had finally gotten the answers I had been searching for. Without a conscious thought, I place my vodka tonic down on the smooth bar top, and I walk through the darkness to Shane’s office. The whole time, I know that this moment will break my heart no matter how it ends.