Obsession (Forbidden #2) (24 page)

I turn around and start looking for a make-up sponge. ‘I should get back downstairs. I’m supposed to be on stage in a little while.’

‘Kira… You know this is serious, don’t you? I mean, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I get the gist. This man, you and him, you obviously shared something, no matter how messed-up it was… Jesus! You really should have
talked
to me.’

‘Maybe I should have. But I didn’t. And it’s done now. I handled it badly, and he’s back. But he
will
leave, Joey, I promise you that. He
will
leave. I’ll end it once and for all, and he’ll go, and I can get on with living my life.’

‘With Neal?’

Why did he even phrase that as a question? ‘Yes. With Neal.’

Neal Cannon.

The man who saved me.

The man who might need to save me all over again.

Twenty-Two

Neal

I stand at the back of the club and watch her, up there on the stage in her dark wig and eye mask, enough of a disguise to some extent, but it’ll always be her tattoo that gives her away, to those who are aware of it. And if people have looked at the photographs on the walls and seen the ones of Kira they’d know, that it was her up there, about to take it all off and show everyone in here just what she’s got that drives me fucking insane, every minute of every day.

I dig a hand in my pocket and swallow down the double shot of whiskey Louie’s just poured for me, but my eyes don’t leave that stage. I need to watch her, all the time, because I need to know who he is; why he’s here, that man she was kissing last night. She didn’t seem to think it important enough to share with me, but she’s wrong. Another man touches her, and I get angry. I get fucking angry. Another man kisses her, and I want to rip his fucking heart out.

‘Phone call for you, Neal.’

I look at Alan, just briefly, before I turn my attention back to the stage. She’s already slid the black dress she was barely wearing down over her beautiful legs and now she’s left in nothing but killer heels and the tiniest black bra and panties as she writhes against the steel pole.

‘Neal. Your lawyer’s on the phone, in your office.’

‘Yeah, Alan, I heard. Can you tell him to call back tomorrow?’

‘He said he really needs to speak to you now. Said it was urgent.’

‘Jesus Christ…’

I swallow down the last of the whiskey and slam the glass down on the counter behind me, taking one last look at Kira as she slowly unclips her bra and pulls it away, revealing those freaking amazing tits. Tits I want to suck on, right now, I don’t want to be talking to my lawyer. I want to suck on her nipples and play with her pussy and then I want her to tell me who that fucking guy is before I find him and break his fucking neck.
That’s
what I want.

Nothing else is important.

Nothing…

Kira

I never make a habit of looking out into the crowd when I do this. I don’t like to meet anyone’s gaze, unless I know Neal’s going to be there. And I’ve just seen him head back to the office, so I keep my head up and my eyes on nothing in particular. I just listen to the music and let my body move in time to the beat as I work the pole.

But sometimes it happens, and I make the mistake of looking out into the crowd, and my heart almost skids to a halt when I see
him
, leaning back against the wall, his light-brown hair all messed-up, that cocky look on his ruggedly handsome face as he stares back at me. And the corner of his mouth twists up into a slight smirk, and my heart starts to race, going from almost still to breathtakingly fast and I hate every feeling he’s stirred up inside of me. I hate that he’s making me wet because, as I slide a hand down to touch myself, I can feel it, how wet I am.

It’s like something’s overtaken me, possessed me, and maybe it’s because I’m not myself, I’m acting. Up here I’m just another one of my many alter-egos as I dance and strip and excite those who want to be excited. I’m not me. So I feel no guilt as I lean back against the pole and unclip the sides of my tiny black knickers, pulling them away to leave me naked, bar the heels. And the mask. I’m naked, and he’s staring at me, and I like it. Jesus Christ, I fucking like it!

I close my eyes and arch my back, burying my fingers in my hair as I sway my hips; as I slide slowly down the pole to my haunches, and that’s when I open my eyes. As I spread my legs wide and touch myself I open my eyes, and they meet his. But his gaze drops; he’s watching me touch myself. He’s watching as I bring myself off, as my fingers slip and slide around my soaking wet pussy, and he caused that. He did this. Him, and all those messed-up memories he’s making me remember.

But as I feel my all-too-public climax start to make its presence felt, he lifts his gaze, and his eyes are back on mine as my body jerks and jolts with the weight of the orgasm he’s brought me to without even touching me. And then the guilt hits, and I want him to go, to stop this from happening. I want him to leave and never contact me again, but at the same time I want him to stay and confuse me and I hate myself all over again, for even thinking that.

My act is over, and as the lights go down on the stage I grab the robe one of the other dancers hands me and cover myself with it before I leave the stage and head down the corridor to the dressing room.

‘Kira…’

I stop, and for a second I contemplate ignoring him, not even acknowledging him. But what good would that do? Talking to him here, though – that’s dangerous. And I’ve played with fire one time too often. This is too close. Neal’s here, in the club, and this – it’s too close.

‘Kira, please…’

‘Follow me.’

I don’t turn around when I say that. I don’t want to look at him yet, I want to wait, until we’re alone. So I take him to one of the private rooms, and I know that’s just as dangerous, but we need to talk. We need to sort this. Now.

Once the door’s safely locked behind us I finally turn to face him, and he isn’t smirking anymore. His face is serious, his eyes hard and dark. ‘The black hair, it suits you.’

I don’t make any attempt to remove the wig. The eye mask might be gone, but leaving the wig on – I don’t know. Somehow it makes me feel a little bit more detached. Like it still isn’t really me in here, with this man I used to love more than life itself.

He reaches out and grabs the belt on my robe, but I’m quicker than him, and my hand slams down over his before he has a chance to loosen it. And he smiles, and laughs quietly, and my insides give a massive, painful jolt; it feels like someone’s just punched me hard in the solar plexus.

‘It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before. Kate.’

‘Say that name one more time and I walk out of here. We are done. No more talking. I’m Kira now. Kate is dead.’

He moves behind me, his fingers trailing along the back of my neck, pushing my robe down over one shoulder and I’m numb. I feel nothing, I don’t even know who’s working me but I don’t think I’m in control here.

‘OK. Kira.’

His mouth is so close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin and I close my eyes and breathe in deep as his fingers continue to touch me, stroking my shoulder, and the numbness is slowly lifting now, to be replaced by beautiful shivers as memories of his touch flood my brain.

‘I can live with Kira. I can do that.’

He reaches around and grabs the belt again and this time I don’t stop him. Because I can’t. I’m frozen, my arms won’t move, or I’m just kidding myself that that’s the case. Either way, he’s opened my robe now, and the second his hand connects with my stomach I can’t hold back the moan that involuntarily escapes me.

‘I’ve seen you naked so many times,’ he murmurs, his mouth still resting against my ear. ‘But watching you up there… doing what you do… How many men’s cocks can you make hard in a second, kid? How many poor bastards’ minds do you play with every fucking night?’

‘Why are you here, Jon?’

‘I’m here for
you
. I want my chance, babe. That chance we never had, I want that. Now.’

His hand moves lower, resting on my hip bone, and it’s a second or two before I realise he’s pushed the robe right off of me, and I’m naked, and exposed, and he’s got me right where he wants me. But do
I
want to be here?

‘I know you’re with someone, Kira. And I know who he is. I know he owns this place, along with you, and Joey. I know you met him in a hotel room in Newcastle; that he was a client, before he became anything else. And I know you don’t love him. Not really. You can’t. He’s nothing but a rebound, a shield; someone you’re using to protect yourself from what you still feel for
me
.’

Something suddenly snaps inside me and I pull away from him, grabbing the robe from the floor and wrapping it back around myself. ‘You never lost that arrogance, huh?’

‘Do you know how frigging beautiful you are when you’re angry?’

The smirk’s back on his face, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t. I once loved this man, so much. But then I knew I couldn’t love him anymore. Even if I still wanted to, I couldn’t.

‘I still love you, Kira. I’m still
in
love with you.’

Once more the smirk disappears and a seriousness crosses his face that I’m more than familiar with. It’s that same, haunted expression he wore for so much of our time together – a look that tells me he knows we’re living an impossible dream here. We can’t be together. It’s too dangerous. He knows it. I know it. He should never have come here.

‘I still love you. Even on my wedding day, I was standing there, reciting vows I didn’t mean because all I could think about was you. The words were coming out of my mouth but it wasn’t me saying them. I married Sara as a cover, Kira.
She
was
my
smokescreen…’

‘She didn’t deserve that, Jon.’

‘When I was fucking her, I was thinking of you.’

‘She didn’t deserve that.’

‘Those afternoons, when you came to me, and you’d pretend you were all detached, that you didn’t care, you think I bought that, huh? If you really hadn’t wanted me anymore, you wouldn’t have let anything happen. You would have told me straight to leave you alone. To walk away. You would have done
that
, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because you wanted me. You
needed
me…’

‘This can’t happen, Jon, you know that. It can’t happen.’

‘Who says?
 
Who
says
this can’t happen? We don’t need to go back home, to England. We don’t have to go back there…’

‘I need you to go, Jon. Please.’

He walks over to me, and his eyes are burning so deep into mine I can almost feel the searing pain, but I can’t look away.

‘I’m in love with someone else,’ I whisper, but he isn’t listening. And he’s too close now, but I can’t back away, I can’t. I’m too weak, and once more I hate myself, and everything I’m feeling right now. Because I know it’s wrong. I know that. I’m saying it, over and over again in my head like a mantra. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

‘You’re in love with
me
,’ he murmurs as he slides his hand inside my robe, and I gasp as his fingers splay out across my hip, pulling me to him. ‘You’ve always been in love with me. Always.’

It’s like every bone in my body has just disintegrated to nothing as I collapse against him, and he’s kissing me, and with that kiss he’s unlocked every sad and beautiful memory I have of my time with him. He’s making me remember those stolen days and the handful of nights we managed to spend together, making plans for a future we almost had, before it was ripped away from us. He’s making me remember the afternoons when I’d go to him, and he’d pay me for sex, so desperate was he to still be with me. And I let him in. But I should have locked him out.

‘We had our chance, Jon.’

I try to ignore the way my stomach continuously contracts as he holds my naked body against his clothed one. And I should feel vulnerable, but I’m suddenly feeling stronger than I thought I could be. I just hadn’t been ready to see him again, it was a shock I just wasn’t prepared for. But now that I’ve had time to get used to him being here… Now I’ve had time, I think I might just be able to handle this.

‘We had that chance. And we blew it.’

I pull away from him, wrapping the robe back around myself as I head for the door.