Wound Up (2 page)

Meg, her best friend, leaned over and tapped her shoulder. “Best. Idea. Ever.”

Grace laughed. “You need a bib. You’ve got a little something right—” she dragged her thumb across Meg’s chin “—there.”

Meg grimaced as heat burned across her cheeks. “Did you
see
Nick?”

“Just as much of him as you did.”

“I’ve never seen a man move that way.” Meg fanned herself. “I’d come back frequently if I wasn’t moving to Baltimore.”

“And I’ll be following you as soon as this practicum is over.” Grabbing her margarita, she took a healthy sip.

Two weeks.
After that, she had some decisions to make. The kinds of decisions she’d been looking forward to making for as long as she could remember. She was moving to Baltimore with Meg, completely stepping away from the life she’d been trapped in since birth and becoming something, some
one
, more. All she’d ever wanted was the ability to choose for herself who she’d be instead of living as an unwanted by-product of her mother’s environment and choices.

Determination was all she’d had to see her through the hard years, the hungry nights, the lonely holidays. And if determination had carried her this far, there was no reason to think it wouldn’t carry her as far as she wanted to go. She’d carve out her own niche, do something special after a life that had been less than noteworthy. If only she could figure out what, and where, her niche
was
. There wasn’t room to make a mistake—not with the deferment of her student-loan payments ending and her housing situation dire for the next two weeks.

Frowning into her glass, she fought the urge to curse. She’d been forced to move in with her mother when the man she and Meg had been subletting their apartment from returned from his Doctors Without Borders trip early. It wasn’t a big deal for Meg; she’d just gone home. It was more...complicated for Grace. Home had never been the safe place it was supposed to be. The word had never conjured feelings of security, and it had never been a place of refuge. Her mother had only been a parent in the biological sense. Nurture and love had never been part of that woman’s vocabulary.

She rolled her head back and forth and took a deep breath.
Two weeks. You can do anything for two weeks.

“Ladies, you’re in for a real treat.” The MC’s voice, deep and dark, dragged her out of her reverie and settled the crowd’s chatter to an anxious hum. “It seems a Beaux Hommes crowd favorite has decided to unveil a new alter ego this evening, and he’s going to be choosing one lucky lady to help with the introductions.”

“I wonder if Nick would understand if I volunteered,” Meg murmured.

Grace chuckled, watching as the spotlight whisked across the crowd. Hands were up in the air, women waving like crazed matadors in the face of angry bulls as they tried to garner the operator’s attention. She shook her head and bent forward to grab her purse. Virgin or not, her drink could use refreshing. Might as well do it while they were setting up for the next dancer.

Air whispered around her as the owner of black wingtips stopped in front of her chair. She froze. Cologne, musky and rich, tickled her nose. The spotlight pinpointed her, and she swore it burned hot as the noonday sun.

A work-roughened finger hooked under her chin and gently lifted.

This was
not
happening. She didn’t
want
to be chosen to help the policeman or chef or magician or whatever he was going to be dressed as take off his clothes. She just wanted to watch. And tip. And watch some more. But be part of the act? No.

In spite of herself, she let her head tilt back and slowly took him in. Her eyes raked across a tall, hard body. He pulled her up until she stood in front of him. Subtle pressure encouraged her to meet his gaze. Shock made her draw in a sharp breath.

Dark brows arched elegantly over pale blue irises ringed in navy blue. His lashes were so thick she almost hated him. Almost. His jaw was chiseled. The way his mouth tipped up at one corner said he smiled regularly, and she had the strangest urge to see that smile now. Not his stage smile, but a genuine one. His lower lip was full, made for nibbling, while his upper lip formed a perfect cupid’s bow. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth—no surprise. It had always been this way with him.

“Justin Maxwell,” she whispered. The one man in the world she’d hungered for on every level. The one man who had been out of reach for three years. Every cell in her body heated until a fine sheen of sweat decorated the nape of her neck. She licked her lips as her breath came short. How could
he
be
here
? Tonight? Why? And why couldn’t he be wearing more clothes when he touched her?

He tipped his fedora in acknowledgment, leaving it sitting at a cocky angle. “I’ll need you to come with me, Ms. Cooper.”

The soft timbre of his voice whispered through her, caressing and igniting parts of her that had no business being on fire.

Grace opened her mouth to politely decline. Yes, she’d harbored a major crush on the man for years, but that didn’t mean she’d hop on stage with him at his request. No, she couldn’t. “Absolutely, Professor.”

“Never was a professor, and I’m not standing in front of anyone’s whiteboard anymore, sweetheart.” And she wasn’t sitting in a lecture hall anymore, either.

Her stomach flipped over as anxiety landed dead center in her belly.

Taking her hand, he backed through the crowd with confident steps, as if he knew exactly who and what was behind him.

He led her up a short set of stairs and stood her in the middle of the stage. “Don’t think about the crowd. Focus on me. I’ll take care of you,” he said quietly.

Her inner wild child stretched and purred, tired of being put in a box over the years as she’d busted her ass to earn her undergraduate and graduate degrees. Now all that wild part of her wanted was a piece of him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

That coveted smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Please do.”

She gave a short nod, and he raised a hand as he stepped away from her. The lights immediately dimmed and several women screamed while others whistled.

Music started, soft at first. Initially it had a digital feel, and then the first electric guitar cords drowned out the synthesizer. Bass guitar dropped in with a deep, almost drumming line. The music hammered at her nerves, lighting her up from the inside and making her hyperaware of the way her clothes rubbed over her skin.

The spotlight flashed on, narrow at first and then widening to show Justin moving toward her in a Milan-worthy stalk-walk through the artificial smoke billowing across the stage. His feet hit the floor in time with the music. He flicked his trench coat open, letting it billow behind him as he moved. Tuxedo-style pants were held up with black suspenders. He wore a cummerbund of white satin. And that was it. His bare chest showcased his warm skin and ripped physique. He wasn’t huge but, damn, she would have given just about anything to trail her fingers over his defined pecs and down those rippling abs.

She glanced at his face and froze.

His eyes were hot, his smile one of pure seduction. He arched a brow as he closed in on her.

Grace licked her lips again, the action partly nerves but predominately anticipation. She wanted his hands on her in the worst way and, surprisingly, it turned her on to know that other people were watching.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, his eyes grew hooded. He stalked her in an ever-tightening circle. Whipping his coat off, he flung it to the side as the lyrics settled around her in a haze of lust. The singer was instructing the woman in the song to beg. But instead of encouraging Grace to go to her knees, Justin did.

He dropped behind her and ran broad hands up the backs of her legs, over her ass and settled them at her waist, making her skin suddenly feel too tight. His hot breath skated along the hollow of her spine as his thumbs lifted the hem of her shirt and he placed his firm lips against the soft sway of her back.

She involuntarily arched.

Strong hands tightened around her waist, holding her still. The tip of his tongue traced the tiniest line up her skin.

A whimper caught in her throat. Heat flooded her sex.

He moved behind her, scaling her body like a half-naked superhero.

She absently wondered what his superpower would be and realized, without a doubt, it would be the power of seduction. The power to make her crave him. The power to make her beg if he wanted her to.

Smooth hands slid under her shirt and up her belly. Thumbs traced ghost-like over the lower swells of her breasts. Her nipples pearled.

Lost to the sensations, her eyes fluttered shut.

Then he was gone.

Her head snapped around, searching for him.

He’d moved into the shadows near the edge of the stage to retrieve a chair. Pushing it toward her, he moved with lithe grace. His skin gleamed, pulled taut over those defined muscles, and his eyes burned as his lips curled with that superpower, seduction. And the closer he came, the hotter she got.

Three things hit Grace all at once.

One, she genuinely wanted this man in every sense of the word
want
.

Two, she was going to have him.

Three, she was going to enjoy every minute and consider the consequences later.

2

J
USTIN
HADN
’
T
TAKEN
his rip-away tuxedo pants off yet. He should have. The routine called for it. But he couldn’t. Not until he got his cock under control. The minute he laid his lips to the small of Grace’s back, that traitor had stopped listening to his demand to stand down. Primal hunger had roared through him at the slight taste of salt on her skin. Then the faint musk of her arousal had punched his lust up to uncontrollable levels. Never had he responded to a woman this way. Something about her made him lose control, and, as usual, that both fascinated and irritated him. He was famed for his control.

Seating her in the chair, he went to his knees in front of her, legs spread wide. He leaned back on one hand and pumped his hips toward her. Sure, his arousal was apparent—she might as well know up front. Keeping things the way they’d always been was no longer an option. Now that she’d seen him here, had discovered that he danced, the knowledge couldn’t be taken back. He was going to run with it as far and fast as he could go before she called stop. For the first time since he’d started dancing, he wanted the patron,
this
patron, to see him as available.

Her eyes locked on his groin. Then they dragged their way up his body to meet his.

The sheer hunger that smoldered in their depths stole his breath.

“Touch me.” The words were out of his mouth without a thought.

“Beg.”

His balls tightened at the command. So she was listening to the song, was she?

He grinned, putting every ounce of predatory sensuality into it he could muster as he rose to his knees and got in her face. “You’ll regret that.”

“Make me.”

“Done.” Raw, sexual hunger surfed the arousal flooding his veins. Wave after wave of desire pulsed through him. Crawling around her, he prowled up her body slowly, bent to her ear and breathed, “Please.”

A hard shiver worked through her.

Justin pulled her into his arms and switched places with her, settling her across his lap. Hips thrusting, he pantomimed raw sex as his hands ran down her hips. The heat of her sex bled through his thin pants and he wanted nothing more than to touch her there, to find out if she was as wet as he wanted her to be. His hands shook. “Please,” he said, louder this time.

Smooth hands ran over his chest.

He lifted his chin and watched her. The way her eyes locked on his torso, the way her fingertips traced every contour of his body—it fueled his need for her. Wrapping his arms around her ass, he surged to his feet.

Her eyes widened, locking on his.

Moving his face toward hers was natural. He leaned in until their lips almost touched. “Please.” The whispered plea made their lips touch for a split second, but it was enough. She tasted like fresh lime, tart and sweet. Such a heady mix.

She gasped as he spun and set her in the chair again. Moving away, he toed his shoes off one at a time, kicking them clear and, with his back to the crowd, ripped his pants off.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip even as her nostrils flared. The message was clear. She wanted him.

So he danced for her.

Facing Grace, he went to his knees and ran his hands over his body. He rolled a finger out and curled it in a “come here” motion.

She stood and walked toward him with exaggerated steps, her movements in perfect sync with the music. The way she moved, all sultry confidence, made his blood boil. When she reached him, he settled on his heels and pulled her forward to straddle him. He thrust upward, sliding his free hand up her front. Then he slid through her legs, jumped up and moved in behind her. Gripping her hips, he bent her forward some and folded his body over hers, settling his erection in the crevice of her ass.

She shivered.

Or it might have been him.

The music ended and the lights went out.

He grabbed her hand and headed for the wings. She kept up, never balking, and he was relieved. Hunger burned low in his gut. He wanted her so badly he was terrified he might actually throw her over his shoulder and run away with her. To where, he had no idea. Probably the first hotel he came across.

The Spartan decor of the back of the stage was at total odds with the plush interior out front. They nearly ran down a long corridor, his hand clinging to hers. Several performers called out greetings as they passed.

He ignored them.

Without warning, he slid to a stop and pulled her into a corner.

Grace crashed into him.

Justin spun, grabbed her and pressed her up against the wall. “I need you.”

Wide, green eyes stared up at him, her pupils blown with desire. “Feeling’s mutual.”

Twining their fingers together, he dragged her hands over her head. She arched into him, and he groaned. His lips met hers in a desperate duel for dominance. Her mouth offered endless pleasure while her body smelled like sin. She rubbed against him, hooking one leg around his as he wedged a thigh between hers. Her soft mewl was nearly his undoing.

He craved her so badly and felt slightly guilty for dragging her back here without even talking to her first. If someone had treated either of his little sisters this way? Hell, he’d kill them. The shock of his behavior washed over him as effectively as a bucket of ice water. This was no way to treat a woman he liked and respected, a woman he’d wanted to ask out for three years. Jerking back, he stared down at her, panting. “I’m sorry.”

“No talking.” She leaned up and reclaimed his mouth, nipping his bottom lip before soothing the sting with the tip of her tongue. “Not yet.”

He pulled away. “I don’t do this. Ever.”

She sighed, and relaxed against the wall. “Believe it or not, neither do I.”

Dropping his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. “Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

She kissed him quickly. “Make it eight.” Then she pulled her hands free and slipped under his arm, heading back the way they’d come, hips swaying hypnotically.

“Door to the club’s on the right,” he called.

She raised a hand in acknowledgment but never slowed down.

With a huff, he pushed off the wall and jogged toward the locker room.

He figured he had six minutes to come up with a decent plan that ended with her naked in his arms.

He’d borrow Levi’s car, though it rankled that he didn’t have his own. They could go to a late dinner. Maybe add something fun in there. Or a trip to his favorite dessert place for something sweet. The little restaurant he had in mind wasn’t fancy but it was intimate. They could talk. He could show her he was better than the sum of his behavior so far tonight.

A dark smile spread across his face as he headed for his locker.

Maybe he’d go straight for the kill shot and try to talk her into breakfast...tomorrow morning.

* * *

G
RACE
SLIPPED
TO
her table where her girlfriends were chattering like songbirds.

Meg reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. “Holy crap, girl! You’re the luckiest woman I know.”

“Yeah?” She grabbed her purse. “I’m about to get luckier.”

“Shut up.” Lynn, a close friend, leaned across the table. “You aren’t going out with him.”

“Nope.” She grinned and let the wickedness of her thoughts show. “I have the distinct impression we’ll be spending the evening in.”

Meg whooped and Lynn laughed. Gretchen, the most levelheaded of the group, sipped her drink and watched Grace over the rim of her glass. “You think this is a good idea? You don’t know him.”

“I actually sort of do.” They clamored for more information, but she waved them off. “We met in the psychology department. No, I had no idea he danced here. Yes, he’s a fantastic kisser. No, you won’t get more details than that, so don’t ask.” She looked at Gretchen. “Just this once, I want to live a little.”

Gretchen nodded. “I get that. I do.” She took another sip, her brow furrowing as Grace watched. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you could do worse than living it up with a stripper.”

The muscles in Grace’s neck tightened and made her nod sharp. “Right.”

All three women were silent at her words. That they felt sorry for her chafed. Her chin went up. “I’ll check in with you guys tomorrow.”

Gretchen lifted her glass, the casual gesture at direct odds with the concern reflected in her eyes. “Promise you’ll be careful. Oh, and take my smartphone. Your by-the-minute phone is great if you have time to call for help, but in the event he’s an ax murderer? It’s useless. I’ll turn on the ‘find me’ feature so I can recover your body if necessary.”

Grace accepted the phone as she stood. “I have no idea where we’ll go, but I’m guessing his place. If the phone takes off at a high rate of speed in the next couple of hours? Come after me.” She glanced at her watch. “Gotta go.”

She tried to keep her pace casual and controlled as she headed for the front door. In truth, though, she wanted to run. Despite her best efforts, her strides lengthened until she was charging through the club. Several women commented on her passing. Most of the words were benign if a little jealous, but some were downright mean. Grace didn’t slow down. She wasn’t going to allow herself to apologize for wanting sex, for enjoying it and for taking advantage of the moment. Had she been a man, she’d have been admired for the conquest. As a woman, she wasn’t about to apologize for the same. Justin would be
her
conquest as much as she’d be his.

Cool air heavy with mist washed over her as she pushed through the club’s front doors. She stopped and slowly turned.

Staring at the ground in front of him, Justin came around the corner of the building wearing a knee-length trench over jeans and a white T-shirt. His chin came up, and his eyes narrowed.

She started for him without thinking.

They came together on the sidewalk, her arms going around his neck at the same time he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was swift but sure.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi, yourself.”

He searched her face.

Her brows drew together. “Problem?”

“No. Just...” He shrugged.

Unease curled through her belly. She stepped a pace away.

Justin caught her hand. “I feel bad for nearly accosting you.” He raked his fingers through his hair and stared over her shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. “I want you to know I’m a better man than that.”

“Hey.” She tipped her head to the side and grabbed his attention. “I’m perfectly capable of saying no.”

“Yeah, but—”

Laying her fingers across his lips, she shook her head. “No.”

“What I meant was—”

“No.” She pulled her hand away. “See? I told you I’m good at saying it.”

He arched a brow and his lips twitched.

“I mean it, Justin. Short of a brief but intimate introduction to my tonsils and your insider knowledge of my grades in Psych 410, 510 and 525, we’re strangers. You’ll have to trust I
know myself well enough to ask for what I need.” Closing the distance between them, she placed one hand over his heart and ran the other around his neck. With soft pressure, she pulled him close. “And what I want is you.” She laid her lips over his in a tender kiss.

He responded with unerring skill, moving over her lips to her jaw and laying small kisses all the way to her ear. “Might I interest you in grabbing some dinner?”

Her heart lodged in her throat at the question. The most she could manage was a small shake of her head. The hitch in his breath made her curl her fingers into the short wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve already eaten.”

“I’m starving.”

Desire wove through those two simple words, and she understood it wasn’t just food he craved. She leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she reveled in his strength as he pulled her even closer. The scent of laundry detergent from his clothes mingled with his cologne to give him a clean, masculine smell she loved.

He rested his chin atop her head and stroked her back in an achingly tender gesture. “I’d like to grab something to eat. I want to do this right. We can decide where to go from there, okay?”

“What sounds good to you?”

“I need protein and carbs. Dancing burns me out.” He pulled away and, cupping her jaw, tipped her face up to his. “You did really well on stage.”

“Thanks. So did you.”

His head fell back as he laughed. Settling, he grinned down at her. “You didn’t tip me.”

“Maybe I’m holding out for a private performance.”

Blue eyes darkened with desire. “I bet we can arrange something after I eat.”

Grace traced the planes of his chest through the soft cotton of his shirt, thinking. She could play this any number of ways. Games weren’t her style, though. Direct communication was much more in line with her preferences. So...taking a deep breath, she met his gaze head on. “I suppose there’s dinner or...breakfast.”

Justin’s heart tripped beneath her palm before it began to hammer against his rib cage. His lips parted, but he said nothing.

“Or we could—”

“Breakfast is perfect.” Lacing their fingers together, he lifted their joined hands to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. “Did you drive tonight?”

“I actually rode with friends.” She pulled free and began to dig in her purse, determined to find Meg’s cell phone. “I can call a cab.”

Justin was quiet before saying, “I’ve got a car in paid parking.”

Something in his voice made her look up. “Are you sure?”

His smile was a little too bright. “I’m pretty sure that’s where it is.”

She searched his face but that smile never wavered. “Okay.”

He draped an arm over her shoulders and started across the street. Halfway there, his steps faltered briefly. Dropping his arm, he started walking toward the parking garage again. “Sixth floor unfortunately. It was crowded tonight.”

The urge to poke at him a little, to figure out why the mention of the car had irritated him, almost overwhelmed her. Instead, she followed him to the elevator.