Читать книгу Pulled Under - Kelli Ireland - Страница 12

4

THE ENERGY FROM the crowd filtered through Harper, slowly bringing her away from the wall to stand at one of the few empty tables near the back. She was on her second beer—thank you, Donovan—and beginning to get into the show. The men were spectacular, the athleticism undeniable, the dance moves seriously hot. More than once she’d had to remind herself she was here to observe the club’s business practices, not its men.

So far she hadn’t spotted anything illegal happening on this side of the curtain, but the night was young. After the show, she’d make Levi take her backstage so she could see how the dancers were logging their cash tips because, from what she’d observed, the take was damned impressive.

The lights went down and the hum of the crowd built to a static white noise that made the fine hairs on her arms rise. Faint gunfire sounded over the speakers. A very patriotic musical introduction followed. Deep and rhythmic, the DJ’s voice filled the room. “Welcome Levi to the stage!”

The crowd went wild.

“What is this, a freakin’ rock concert?” she asked no one in particular. “If they start moshing, I’m out.”

Looking over the crowd and through the mass of women waving cash, she caught a glimpse of Levi. He wore a pair of military fatigues, a white undershirt, combat boots and a hat. Strapped to his arm was a knife large enough to fillet a moose. She was gaping at him and she didn’t even care. This was not the geeky guy who’d fumbled through her arrival earlier. This was not the same man who’d taken his sweatshirt off in an attempt to distract her. There were flavors of him there, but no. This was not the same man.

The man onstage was a sexual machine. He moved with a type of confident awareness that he was it, and every woman in the place wanted him. There was a sexual...presence to him that made her rub her thighs together. A man like that would be talented in bed. He couldn’t do that thing with his hips onstage if he hadn’t done it with someone in bed.

“Probably a thousand times.” Her words were lost among the sounds of the crowd. But they were a reminder that this was a bad idea. She never should have come to the club when she knew he’d be—

Her eyes bugged when he pulled the giant knife. Her gaze locked onto his torso as he sliced the knife up his shirt halfway and then slowly, slowly worked it into his arm sheath. All the while, he kept moving his lower body—hips thrusting, glutes flexing, thighs straining the tight material of his pants. Every movement gave the smallest glimpse of his abs and a seriously cut six-pack of muscle. Tanned skin revealed a sheen of sweat under the stage lights. He gripped the edges of the now cut shirt in each hand and did a little peep show.

Money rained around him.

Moving to the edge of the stage, he spread his feet and ripped his shirt off. A near brawl broke out when he threw it into the crowd.

“Who is this guy?” she muttered.

A hand touched her elbow and she almost came out of her skin.

Whirling, she found Donovan standing next to her with a third beer in one hand and a glow stick held above his head in the other. “You look like you could use this,” he shouted over the noise.

She silently grabbed the cold beer and downed half of it, ignoring the almost nauseating way it sloshed in her empty stomach. There would be time for regret later. Right now? She had to get herself under control.

In no part of her planning had she considered she might actually want Levi. She was supposed to be controlling the situation and, thus, the case. What she was experiencing at the moment was far closer to taking a sharp corner at high speed—any control she wielded was marginal at best.

The crowd grew louder.

“I’m out,” she shouted at Donovan, digging in her pocket for the bills to cover the drink.

He grinned. “You might have to stick around a few more minutes.”

“Why?”

He jerked his chin at something over his shoulder. “You’ll have to take it up with him.”

She froze, her beer bottle halfway to her lips. “No.”

“Oh, yeah, gorgeous. He’s coming for you.”

* * *

LEVI LEAPED OFF the stage and danced his way through the crowd to Harper. She had her back to him and wasn’t moving. Tall and lean, her waist nipped in before flaring slightly over lush feminine hips. Her shoulders were a touch wide. The way her neck curved made him want to kiss her just there, at the shallow indent at the top of her spine.

Donovan leaned toward her and said something indiscernible.

She shook her head.

The waiter took her beer, looking both amused and uncertain as he moved away and lowered the glow stick. A swift lift of his chin urged her face the stage.

She didn’t.

“Don’t chicken out on me now, sweetheart,” Levi shouted above the crazy noise level.

She turned, driven by the challenge.

Levi’s breath hung in his chest. The words he’d been about to toss out fell flat at his feet. The woman he’d met today appeared absolutely nothing like the woman gazing up at him now through smoky eyes, with no glasses, full lips and sharp cheekbones—she was a complete and total knockout. Breasts that had been full earlier had been magically lifted so they were somehow more. Her shirt was tied at her waist to reveal taut abs. Tight-fitting jeans enhanced her long legs. And she wore the same heels that had knocked him out earlier. She was a pale-skinned beauty he’d totally underestimated.

One corner of her mouth curled up, and her brows slowly rose. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

Gripping every ounce of pride he could muster, he reached out and traced one finger along her jawline. “You could be.”

Her laughter was like the best cigar followed by a sip of expensive whiskey—rich, sultry, cultivated. Seductive. But her voice? It was the way a voice should sound after a good hour of foreplay. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“That line’s wasted on the girls. I save it for the women, and trust me, Ms. Banks, from where I stand? You’re all woman.” He closed the distance between them, wrapped his hand around her neck and leaned in. “You want backstage? You’ll have to come with me.”

“I don’t have to have your help to get backstage.”

“But I can make your life easier, and a whole lot more fun.” He kneaded his fingertips into the tense muscles that ran along her spine. Not nearly as calm as she’s putting on. “C’mon.”

He watched her closely, aware the moment the muscles in her neck went from tight to nearly rigid. Levi dropped his hand and stepped just out of reach. Holding out his hand, he curled his fingers in a come-here motion. She started to lift her hand in his direction then paused. She considered him for a moment before finally closing the distance. Their fingers touched, a simple brush of skin across skin. Awareness jolted through him, an electrical shock to his entire system. His breath came faster. His fingers twined around hers in a jerky movement. His focus narrowed.

Her eyes never left his.

Levi began to back toward the stage, pulling her along slowly. The noise level seemed to have decreased, reduced to little more than a buzz as he took precise steps, redirecting his path to the stage stairs. Nothing, and no one, existed in that moment but the woman he guided toward the stage. Everything else became secondary. His plan for a little cultivated teasing wasn’t going to be enough anymore. This wasn’t the woman he’d encountered earlier, the one he’d been so sure he could direct at will. No, the woman whose hand he now held had shown up in the equivalent of feminine armor tonight. She’d come prepared for a fight, and that was the last thing he’d expected. He needed to rethink his approach, figure out how to maintain control. That would take time—time he didn’t have. His only choice was to move forward, to exercise extreme caution, to execute the subtle seduction and make her want him. The rest he’d improvise. It had to start somewhere, and given their location? His only choice was to dance for her.

Yanking her close, he thrilled when she planted her free hand on his chest, her fingers reflexively curling into the pad of muscle there as she lifted her face to his.

He flexed his pec.

Her fingers spasmed and she huffed, her hot breath skating over his lips.

Drawing her closer, he spun her in a tight circle so she was the one to back up the steps, keeping her off balance and touching him. All that mattered was that she didn’t stop.

The first step parked her breasts at eye level for him. Grinning, he kept her moving. She could either go where he directed her or tip over. Her choice.

“You’re a real bastard,” she muttered.

“Ya think?” Grinning up at her, he winked and stopped her in the middle of the stage. “Wait until I really get going.”

Amusement flickered in her gaze before she snuffed it out.

“What’s it going to take to get you to let your hair down a little, Ms. Banks?”

“You could stop calling me Ms. Banks, for one.”

The sharp command was issued with an undertone of insecurity that surprised him. “Consider it done...Harper.”

Her fingers flexed against his chest before she flattened them out and, palm over his heart, leaned in close. “Are you going to talk me to death, or are you going to get down to business?”

“Oh, this one isn’t business, honey.” He couldn’t stop his smile widening as he moved around her with all the grace he could muster. “This one’s just for fun.”

She stood perfectly still, facing stage right.

Stopping behind her, he leaned in so his lips were a mere whisper from the shell of her ear. “What are your fantasies, Harper?”

A slight stiffening of her spine said she’d heard him over the crowd’s din. Without warning, she spun to face him and closed the distance between them, her chest pressed against his. “My fantasies aren’t up for discussion.”

He lowered his lips to within a hairbreadth of hers. “Then I’ll have to go with my...highly...active...imagination.” Every last word was punctuated by the sensual brush of his fingertips over her skin. He thrilled at the goose bumps that chased his touch.

The music changed to a distinctive techno beat. The suggestive lyrics heated his blood. Skating his hands down her arms, he shifted, took one hand and spun her out and away. Her eyes were wide, surprise evident in their gray depths. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to go through with the dance. This would teach her to doubt him.

Levi dropped her hand and went to his knees, crawling toward her in time with the music’s bass line. She shifted from foot to foot as he drew closer, her eyes darting left and then right. She scrubbed her hands on her thighs and swallowed. It almost looked as if she was fighting the urge to run. Odd. He’d taken her for a bit more adventurous than that.

He went to his belly at her feet and then rolled over. Grasping her ankles he spread her legs and slid between them, hips thrusting up, the short, sharp movements an unmistakable sexual pantomime. His vantage point gave him an uninterrupted view up the long, lean length of her body. He was tempted beyond measure to touch her.

So he did.

Running his hands up over her calves and down again nearly scrambled his brain cells. The bare skin across the tops of her feet appeared pale in the bright light. Hungry for skin-to-skin contact, he ran his fingertips from the tips of her shoes across the narrow expanse of bare skin and under the hem of her jeans to grip her ankles. He reveled in the silkiness of her skin for a moment before tracing his way down the sides of her shoes to her arches. The way she twitched thrilled him. No way could she say he wasn’t getting to her. Likewise, he couldn’t deny she was affecting him in a way no woman ever had.

Definite complication to a calculated seduction.

He’d deal.

Sliding through her legs, he went to his knees before scaling her body one handhold at a time. He was careful not to cross proprietary boundaries. That didn’t mean he let her move away. No, with the firm grip of each hand he insisted she accept his touch. The tension radiating off her body said he was well on his way to accomplishing what he’d set out to do: cranking her up.

Groin brushing her ass, he danced for her, with her. He ran his hands around her waist and splayed them over the slim expanse of skin above her jeans and below the shirt hem she’d knotted above her waist.

Her belly fluttered beneath his touch, her breathing undeniably rapid.

Applying subtle pressure to her abs encouraged her to lean into him. Gentle direction to and fro got her moving her hips in time to the music. She had great rhythm, keeping up with his direction without difficulty. Bending forward, he wrapped his arms around her and caged her with his arms, his chest, his hips. “You’ve got moves.”

She didn’t answer.

He let her go with reluctance and moved around her. Reaching behind him, he took her hands and dragged them up his body to his neck and then, with deliberation, down his body to the top edge of his pants. He parked her fingers under the waistband and, with relish, undid the snap and teased the zipper down. The crowd screamed louder.

Her fingers caressed his abs.

His hips thrust forward of their own accord. Damn it. The goal was to wind her up, not the other way around. He’d never had trouble remaining professional. Getting turned on by a dance was the equivalent of having no stamina in bed—the guys would give him hell if they figured out what was going on.

When her fingers slid lower and brushed the edge of his G-string, his whole body jerked and he lost the beat of the music for a moment.

Like that, is it?

No way would he allow her to take control of his show. No dice.

He took her wrists and encouraged her hands lower, then lower still. Her fingertips brushed the root of his swelling cock.

She jerked as if she’d been shoved.

Levi pulled her hands free and spun in the loose circle of her arms before indelicately shoving her hands down the back of his pants so her palms cupped the bare skin of his ass. With a couple of careful twists, he trapped her arms under his.

With her feet still spread, it was the work of a moment to position a thigh between her legs and press up, into her sex, as he took the dance to a whole new level. Her breasts brushed against his chest, capturing his attention. He dragged his gaze down neck and across her chest. His reward? An eyeful of cleavage. A fringe of lace revealed the black of her bra as her shirt shifted aside.

He sucked in a breath and glanced up when her fingers dug into his ass.

Their eyes met.

Primal desire flooded Levi’s system. Raw and undiluted, it instantly drowned out the shallow thrill he’d been flirting with. She stared up at him, eyes dark and pupils huge, lips parted as she fought to breathe—she was as caught up in the moment as he was.

He stopped moving, could only stare down at her.

And no matter how long he lived, he’d never forget what she did next.

Harper pulled her hands from his pants, grasped the free material around his thighs and yanked, divesting him of his rip-away pants.

The crowd went absolutely insane.

Breath still coming rapidly, she managed a shaky smile. “Your move, Mr. Walsh.”

“Since you’ve just divested me of my pants in public, why don’t you call me Levi.”

Her chin tipped up as she laughed. Truly laughed.

Levi shivered.

But he couldn’t lose focus. He had a responsibility to the men working for him, now truly his employees. Then there were his parents. He’d do almost anything to ensure his friends’ safety, but for his parents? There was nothing, nothing, he wouldn’t do to make sure they were never destitute again.

It was time he stopped following where Harper directed him and instead started leading her where he needed her to go.