Entice Me (Stark Trilogy #3.11)(11)

“We would, yes.” My voice is shaky. “But I just got invited to submit that proposal. My business is just getting off the ground.”

“I know,” he says.

“I don’t want to put all that aside.” My insides are tight, and my voice is rising in pitch. “And I haven’t got a clue about how to be a mom. You know that.”

“Hey,” he says gently. “Calm down. I didn’t say we should have kids tomorrow. Just some day. We’ve always said we’ll have them some day.”

I nod, a little relieved. A little embarrassed that I overreacted. “Sorry. I just—”

“Of course, I am getting older,” he interrupts with a definite tease in his voice.

I smirk. “Yeah, you’re looking pretty decrepit these days. Is that your way of reminding me you have a birthday coming up?”

“Are you saying you need reminding?”

“Never.” I sidle up closer, shaking off the lingering panic, then smile up at him. “So tell me, Birthday Boy. What would you like?”

“So many choices.” He trails a fingertip down my arm. “Maybe a birthday strip tease?”

I raise my brow. “Interesting choice. I’ll see if I can’t hire someone.”

“I’d rather have one from my wife.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Maybe you should practice so it’s perfect.”

“Should I?”

He bends down so that his lips graze my ear. “Dance for me, baby. Right now.”

“Is that what you want?” I ask. “To watch me dance? Because I have something else in mind.”

His brow rises. “Do you?”

“Mmm,” I say, then start humming as I pull out my phone and find my current favorite song on my workout playlist. A little fast. A little raunchy. A lot fun. I click the button to send it through our sound system, and when the music starts, I press my hand to Damien’s chest and jauntily strut forward, forcing him backward to the padded bench that is intended as a place to sit and wait for the elevator. Right now, I have a different purpose in mind.

“I’ll dance,” I say, doing a shimmy and pulling off my T-shirt in the process. “I’ll even do a stripper dance,” I add. “But I don’t do solo shows. I require full participation.”

“Do you?”

“Absolutely,” I say, turning around so that my back is to him as I shake and shimmy in time with the music and very, very slowly ease my skirt off.

When I turn around, I’m dressed only in my bra and panties, and though I should feel silly, I don’t. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the lingering high from f*cking him in the limo. Maybe it’s the heated way that he’s watching my every move.

Maybe it’s the simple fact that I love my husband.

Whatever the reason, I’m enjoying showing off, turning him on and getting turned on in the process. And as I think that, I slide one hand over my bra and the other down my abdomen to cup myself over my panties.

I have my eyes closed, and the music’s loud, but I still hear Damien’s sharp intake of breath. I figure that’s as good a cue as any, and I open my eyes and strut toward him, then reach out a hand to pull him up.

He complies, amused, and I do my own version of a pole dance, with Damien playing the role of my pole. Up and down, stroking and teasing, shimmying and shaking. It’s a little erotic and a little silly, and by the time I have my bra off and am about to step out of my panties, I’m both desperately wet and giggling furiously.

I bend over to untangle my panties from around my ankle, and when I do, my giggles turn to squeals as Damien scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder. I pound uselessly on his back, then cry out when he pitches me unceremoniously onto the bed.

“What are you—?”

“Shhh.” He puts his finger over his mouth, then strips off his own clothes. And though he doesn’t add any dance moves, I can’t deny that I enjoy the show.

Slowly, he eases onto the bed and straddles me. “I liked your dance,” he says. “I like even more that you did it because I told you I wanted it.”

“Anything you want,” I whisper, my voice throaty. “You know that.”

“I want you,” he says, then brushes a kiss over my lips. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You have me,” I murmur. “You always have.”

“I know.” His smile is slow, his eyes dark with passion. “You’re my proof that I must be a good man. How else could I deserve you?”

I blink, my eyes suddenly damp, and I pull him down for a long, slow kiss. “Make love to me,” I beg. “And make it slow.”

“Anything the lady wants,” he says, sliding his hand down and finding me very, very wet. “I’m always happy to oblige.”

We make love slowly, easily. And as he takes me over the precipice and my body shatters in his arms, I know without a doubt that I am loved as deeply and passionately as it is possible to be.

And, more, I love him back just as much.

Sated, I curl up against him, and I’m drifting toward sleep when Damien’s voice rolls over me. “We should go to Vancouver for my birthday.”

“Mmm,” I say.