“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants.”

  “And what is it you want, Savannah?” His voice is low, the gravel in his tone making me clench in delight.

  “A fantastic orgasm. Something I’m sure you could provide.”

  His eyes dance. “Maybe. But first I want to know more about you.”

  I roll my teeth over my bottom lip. “I like to be on top.”

  He squeezes my waist again, his hands higher than I’d like. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I. I have fantastic tits. They’ll look incredible when I’m riding you.”

  His eyes don’t even drop to said fantastic tits. They just hold mine. “Tell me something real.”

  His voice is soft, earnest. It makes me want to spill my every thought. I absolutely despise the urge. Real is depressing. At least my real is. I live in an attic-turned-studio-apartment, yet I still live paycheck to paycheck. And I was never wanted. By either of my parents. I have no family and no savings. And outside of some incredible friends, no one really cares that I exist.

  He couldn’t handle my truths. They aren’t sexy. A man who lives in a place like this, who has had the career he’s had and looks like he does, would never understand a girl like me.

  I lift my chin. “Real is overrated.”

  “I disagree.”

  Sighing, I deflate a little. “Our versions of real are very different. You have a gorgeous home and a wonderful career to look back on. My life isn’t nearly as pretty. But if you want me to spill so badly, why don’t you go first? What’s your deepest secret, Camden Snow?”

  He holds my gaze, those sharp blue eyes seemingly looking right into my soul. Seeing all my thoughts, all my insecurities.

  Then, with a deep swallow, he replies. “I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me enough to stay.”

  My heart stutters, and before I can regain control of myself, I murmur, “I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me, period.”

  He cups my cheek. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Swallowing back the self-pity threatening to escape from the cage I’ve trapped it in, I shrug. “I know.”

  “I think you’d be incredibly easy to love,” he rasps. The heat of his rough hands soaks into my cheeks, soothing me.

  I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I blink, and when I open my eyes, I find his mouth a mere centimeter from mine.

  “You’d definitely make it easy to want to stay,” I say, my lips brushing his.

  Eyes fluttering shut, he breathes me in. “Fuck, I want to kiss you, but I also want to take this slow.”

  I push up on my toes, slanting my mouth against his. “Why?”

  “Because,” he says, those lips still caressing mine, “I’m the type of guy you need to get to know to love.”

  Without pulling back, I laugh. “And you want me to love you?”

  He nods. “I think I do.”

  “Smooth, Camden Snow, you are so very smooth.”

  Then because he hasn’t done it yet, I lick at his lips, taking my own taste.

  Groaning, he clutches my hip with one hand. He uses the other to angle my jaw, holding my mouth in place. “What else? Tell me something else about you.”

  “That’s not how you date.” Since he’s forced my mouth from his, I use the momentary reprieve to suck in a breath and get my head on straight. I’m supposed to be proving a point tonight, not falling for an unavailable man.

  I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me enough to stay.

  His words play on repeat in my head. Why is it always the broken ones who make me want to try?

  I’m broken enough for the both of us. I don’t need a man to put back together.

  “Like I said, I’ve never dated, so I guess I’m a bit inexperienced.” His blue eyes are full of heat. “You can teach me, though.”

  “You didn’t say you didn’t date; you said no one has stayed.”

  He shrugs. “Same thing, really.”

  “No. If you don’t give people the opportunity to know you—which is the point of dating, by the way—then you can’t fault them for leaving.”

  “You’re right. And I have no idea why we’re even talking about this. I promised I’d show you the surprise. Let’s do that.” He steps back, and the loss of his body heat hits me almost as violently as his emotional retreat.

  Why does that bother me? Why do I care at all. Before I can regain control of my emotions, I’m hit with a bolt of pain straight in the chest.

  Fortunately, Camden has already turned away, obviously determined to get inside, so he doesn’t notice my reaction.

  In the warm hallway once more, he slides the glass door shut. Then he guides me down the hall toward what I assume is the basement.

  As we pass the kitchen, I spot the girls, who are snacking, and wave.

  Josie smirks, her chin lifted and her eyes full of glee. Addie’s mouth falls open in shock.

  “Show’s about to start,” Camden says to the room full of hockey players and women who are probably here in hopes of bagging one of them, at least for the night.

  I still haven’t seen Sienna, which is probably good. I don’t think I could flirt so openly with my boss in the vicinity.

  A group of guys passes us and heads down the stairs. When the area clears, I survey my friends again. They seem far more interested in the cheese platter than the surprise on the floor below.

  We are not the same. I love cheese like the next girl, sure, but like they say, curiosity killed the cat, and I am so damn curious. How egregious could a show be for this man to warn a group of grown women off?

  He peers down at me. “Still with me?”

  I smirk. “All night.”

  With a hand at my back again, he presses his lips to my neck. “You keep teasing me, I’m going to collect.”

  I lean back against his chest. “Good.”

  Groaning, he pushes me forward.

  As we descend the steps, the music gets louder, but the lighting dims. When my feet hit the bottom step, I pause and take in the space, working hard not to show my reaction.

  The basement has been turned into an apparent speakeasy. Women wearing diamond thongs with their breasts completely exposed spin around on poles set up throughout the room. The poles are bolted to the floor and ceiling. They’re permanent. Not props for the night. A half-naked woman sits at the piano in the corner, playing, while another lies on top of it, singing a raspy melody.

  “You still good?” Camden says into my ear, his warm breath sending a shudder through me. He steps up close and wraps an arm around my waist. Maybe he can sense how unsteady I suddenly feel and he’s worried I’m going down. Even so, I lean into him, appreciating the move.

  “This is—” I can’t even find the words. Incredible. Hot. Fucking incredibly hot.

  “Too much?” He presses his lips to the sensitive spot below my ear.

  A deep moan rolls out of me without my permission. “No.” I met this man half an hour ago, and already I’m ready for my first orgasm. What the hell is happening?

  “Good, let’s find a seat so you don’t miss the show.”

  I squeeze my thighs together, unsure of what the hell to expect, and nod.

  Camden slips his palm into mine and then squeezes my fingers gently, giving me a thoughtful look. The moment is so surprisingly sweet that I forget for a second that he’s basically turned his basement into a sex club.

  This isn’t romantic, Savannah. He’s the definition of a playboy.

  With those thoughts cemented in my brain, I ignore the butterflies flapping in my chest and allow Camden to guide me deeper into the room. He stops at an open love seat, and as I turn, ready to ease down onto the cushion, he grasps my arm. He holds me there as he sits, then he pulls me onto his lap and loops an arm around my waist, settling his palm on my bare thigh.

  “What do you want to drink?” He holds up a hand to summon one of the servers.

  “Um, I’ll take a vodka soda.” I wiggle forward. “Also, my own seat.”

  Chuckling, he tightens his hold. “I won’t be able to hear you if you aren’t right here, and I told you, I intend to learn everything I can about you tonight.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turns to the server and orders our drinks.

  I take the opportunity to study him. He’s painfully good-looking, and the command he has over himself, the confidence, like he’s used to getting exactly what he wants, is really doing it for me. Every person he encounters smiles at him genuinely. That’s another thing I like. He’s well liked.

  I shake off the thoughts. He’s obviously a good time, and since I’m only going to spend the evening with him, that’s all that should really matter to me.

  I lean in close to his mouth and whisper, “Why talk when we can do other things?”

  “You’re making this so fucking hard,” he breathes, the warmth of his body engulfing me.

  “I’m trying to make you hard.” I wiggle on top of him. “How am I doing?”

  He tilts his head against mine and groans. “I’ve been a steel rod since I first saw your ass. You just have to exist and I’ll be hard.”

  A thrill zips down my spine. I like that. Probably more than I should. Especially when I realize that though the tits of the woman now delivering our drinks are in our faces, his eyes haven’t left mine.

  Not wanting to be rude, I take my drink and thank her. Cam only grunts as he accepts his. He sets it on the table beside him, finally looking away. But a heartbeat later, his attention is back on me.

  “I’m going to be honest,” he says, voice low, hand cupping my cheek. “I like you and I want more.”

  I ignore the hope that unravels inside me at his words. It’s something I’ve never had, and I won’t start believing that can change now. “I intend to give you plenty more too.”

  He sighs like my avoidance is frustrating. Then he nods. “Okay, baby girl. Show’s about to start, relax.” He shifts and leans back against the couch, pulling away. The move is subtle, but it’s enough to tell me that I’ve fucked up.

  I’m annoyed. With myself. With him. But mostly with the possibilities forming in my mind. The ones trying to tempt me into hoping for more rather than focusing on the here and now.

  So I do what he says.

  I guess I’m a better listener than I thought. Or maybe he’s just a better daddy than mine ever was.

  EIGHT

  CAMDEN

  The woman on my lap shifts and rests against my chest with a sigh. It’s mind-boggling how perfect she is. And I almost screwed it all up by being vulnerable.

  I blame Cora for that. She’s been complaining for years that I never open up, and here I am, dangerously close to telling my whole sad life story to a woman I just met.

  I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me, period.

  I wasn’t the only one who opened up. Though it’s no consolation. If anything, her truth made my heart ache more painfully. How could someone like Savannah exist and not know love? That gnawing question makes me almost delusional enough to believe that I could be good for her. That I could be worthy.

  Almost. Because when I push away the longing and cling to good sense, I realize how ridiculous it is. Loving means being vulnerable, and I don’t know the first thing about being vulnerable. Nor do I want to.

  Hannah appears at the bottom of the steps, her brows arching when she notices Savannah on my lap. When she smiles like she approves, my hackles rise. It shouldn’t bother me. I want her to approve of Savannah. I want to win the bet.

  And yet that thought feels all wrong.

  I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me, period.

  The words call to something deeper inside me. Tempting me to try to fill a role I never have before. One that isn’t selfish.

  Daniel appears behind Hannah, and she leans back, whispering in his ear. He scans the room, and when his attention snags on us, I have to hold back a growl.

  “You okay?” Savannah murmurs.

  I rub the soft skin on the inside of her knee, hoping to soothe her in the same way her soft voice soothes me. “I’m perfect. Do you need anything else?”

  She smiles up at me, her expression filled with far more trust than I deserve. “Nope.”

  Fuck. I want to kiss her. I tuck my chin and brush my nose against hers, but before our lips meet, the music shifts, the beat sultry, the lights dimming further.

  The show is about to begin.

  I nod toward the pole positioned in front of us as a woman leans up against it, her hip tilted out, both hands above her, one wrist on top of the other.

  This isn’t meant to be like a strip club. These dancers are here to perform a tastefully seductive show. The moment the woman only a few feet away starts to move, undulating her hips in time with every other dancer in the room in choreographed precision, Savannah gasps.

  “They’re amazing,” she whispers, the green of her irises dark as she watches, rapt.

  I don’t give the dancers even an ounce of my attention unless Savannah points out a move. They don’t hold a candle to her.

  Within minutes, she squirms on top of me, like she’s turned on.

  There’s no hiding how hard I am, and I know she can feel it. With every second that passes, she gets a little more daring, rolling her hips and sinking deeper against me.

  I’m not the only one who notices, either. The dancer closest to us locks eyes with Savannah and drags her hand down between her bare breasts, showing her just how much she’s enjoying the attention.

  Maksim Loob and Bobby Dean, two of our best players, are sitting across the room, watching the dancer from the opposite angle, though their eyes drift to Savannah far more often than I like.

  Normally I’d have my hand up her skirt. I have a healthy sexual appetite, and I don’t mind being watched. Don’t mind sharing either. But with Savannah, I’m consumed by this hot, desperate need to protect her. I want to cover her up. Hide her from all the prying eyes. So when the dancer drops to her knees and crawls slowly toward us, I press a kiss to the pulse point below her ear. “Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

  Her pulse races and I swear she whimpers. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

  The dancer kneels at our feet, focus fixed on Savannah, her bare chest heaving and lust in her eyes. “May I touch you?”

  Savannah’s nod is quick and harsh. Maybe a little overeager.

  The woman settles her palm on Savannah’s bare knee beside mine. “Would you like a lap dance?”

  Savannah tilts her head in my direction, like she’s seeking permission.

  The power that rumbles through me in response makes me feel fucking invincible. “Whatever you want, baby girl.”

  Green eyes dilating, she hums. Then she settles against my chest and inhales deeply.

  The woman stands and straddles our laps. I shift my thighs closer together beneath Savannah, the idea of touching another woman making my stomach roll. I only want to touch the gorgeous girl on top of me. It’s the oddest sensation, and for the moment, I don’t have the mental capacity to consider the reason behind it.

  When the woman splays a hand over my chest, balancing herself, that unease grows. But before I can react, Savannah does.

  “Only me.” Her tone is sharp, a brow arched as she gently grasps the woman’s wrist and positions her hand on her shoulder.

  My chest swells, along with my dick. “Good girl,” I murmur in her ear.

  Fuck me. If this woman is feeling as possessive over me as I am her, I don’t know that I’ll survive the night.

  She glances back at me, warning in her gaze. “And your hands stay on me.”

  Smirking, I shift and splay my hands on her bare thighs, pulling them a little farther apart, giving the dancer a better seat as well.

  I can’t even begin to describe the sensation that washes over me when the dancer moves against the woman on my lap. The sounds that rip from Savannah’s throat are sexier than anything I’ve ever heard. I’m entranced. We’re in a crowded room, and my guests are no doubt watching, but I can’t focus on a single thing other than the way Savannah’s lips fall open as the dancer swivels her hips.

  Holy fuck. I’m trapped beneath Savannah, getting zero attention myself, and I swear to god I could come like this.

  “You’re so good at this,” the dancer murmurs, making me think she isn’t just putting on a show. She arches back and her nipples point toward the ceiling.

  The guys in the crowd holler and whistle. Shouting about how lucky I am. But I can’t even look up to smirk.

  “Have you ever danced?” she asks.

  “Yes,” Savannah answers in the sultriest of ways.

  “Then I need to see you up on that pole.” The dancer bends over backward and flips off my girl’s lap.

  Immediately, I tighten my thighs, pulling Savannah’s legs together so no one sees up her dress.

  As the dancer holds out a hand, mine tightens on Savannah’s hips. I don’t want to stop her if it’s what she wants, but fuck, I don’t think I could handle it if all these assholes watched her moving on the pole.

  Savannah shakes her head, then glances back at me, her teeth sunken into her lip again. “Can’t tonight. Sorry, Daddy,” she teases in that sexy tone. “I didn’t wear any panties.”

  Before the last word has left her lips, I’m lifting her and carrying her out of the room.

  “What are you doing?” She squirms in my arms, trying to avoid flashing the crowd of people.

  As if I’d let that fucking happen. I’m so fucking angry I can barely see straight, knowing that anyone might have seen her bare pussy while I let her play on my lap.

  “What the hell were you thinking not wearing underwear?” I growl as I storm up the steps.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she hisses. “I wasn’t aware you were my actual father.”

  There’s the fucking brat again. Fury and need tangle inside me, creating a strange sensation. Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this too much.

  “I’m going to turn your ass so red there will be no question about it.” I charge through the back hallway to the next set of stairs, then through the doors of my private suite.