Reece
His hand pulls away from my thigh.
I already miss the warmth of his touch. Icy tendrils of doubt twist ropes around my spine. Should I tell him? Will things change between us when he finds out the truth about my past? His hand comes back to my thigh. His gaze holds mine, firm and steady and solid. He’s the only solid thing in my life right now.
That final text he sent on the first night comes to the front of my mind.
Daddy is always here.
At the time, I couldn’t picture what that would feel like, to have a man by my side, caring for me. Now I can. It’s dangerous, and it’s making me vulnerable. You can’t miss something you never had, but now, everything is different.
I can’t afford to lose him.
I’m not going to tell him.
“He was just a friend. That’s all. A man who was helping me out during a tough time," I say quickly. I tip back my champagne.
A dark brow rises to the sky. “Reece.” He’s using that daddy tone that makes my belly flip-flop and my toes curls.
“I…don’t want to tell you.”
His hand slides up the side of my face, fingers tangling in my hair. He pulls my ear to his mouth.
His words rush hot against my skin. “Tell me. Or so help me god, I will put you over my lap and spank you until tears are running down your face, and every single staff member on this plane will hear you begging me to stop.”
The white heat of shame flashes over my face. I try to pull away. He pulls me in tighter.
He grabs my gaze, his eyes baring down on mine. “The truth, little girl. Now.”
He releases me.
“Fine.” I do my best to gather myself, smoothing my hair and straightening my dress, trying to scratch up some shred of dignity. But when I see the look in his eyes, there’s none left. I’m utterly lost to his control. I submit. “I’ll tell you.”
Leaning back in his seat, he folds his arms over his chest, waiting. The heaviness of his stare never leaves my face.
Icy prickles dance over my skin. I’ve never told anyone about this part of my life. For the past few years, I thought I’d outrun my past. Steady boyfriend, nice apartment, respectable job.
But my employment wasn’t always so respectable, teaching kids their letters and numbers and silly songs to occupy their time.
The music that filled my world was the very furthest from a nursery rhyme. The thump of the bass, the four-to-the-floor beat on repeat. No matter the song, they all ended up sounding the same.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
I can still feel the music thrumming through me.
Hands on the pole, arms raised above my head, my bare breasts held high, fully on display. Peaked nipples on show, hungry stares lashing out over them, wanting a taste. Thighs spread, knees bent, I lower myself to the ground, giving them a full view of what they want.
But will never have.
Underage. No home. No parents.
That pole was my everything.
All cash. Under the table. No questions asked. None answered.
No paperwork.
Just me, dancing under the lights, hundreds of eyes on me every night. And when I’d leave, my pockets were full of cash. More than all the other dancers.
None of the women took me under their wing or showed me any mercy. Mostly, I was just ignored. But when I was on that stage, I was everything. You couldn’t not see me.
I loved every moment of being on that stage.
But at the end of the night, when the lights went out?
I say, “My mom was negligent at best, a long string of bad boyfriends holding her attention, but the day I turned seventeen she assumed I was old enough to care for myself and just never came back to the shitty apartment she’d rented for us. I stayed there, in shock, waiting to see if she’d come back, knowing she was gone. I waited it out till eviction day but not wanting to be shoved into the foster care system for the next year, I took off in the only thing she left me—a twenty-year-old Honda Civic. I had nowhere to go. My friend worked at a club, she got me a job…dancing.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Go on.”
“I made good money, but I was too young to sign a lease. I slept in my car, parked behind the club. I got a ten-dollar-a-month gym membership. I’d work out, strengthen my muscles for the pole, then I’d shower and get ready for my day.”
“Clever girl,” he says with a smile.
It gives me the confidence to go on.
“Dressed in respectable clothing, I’d spend my day at the library, working towards my GED. Then, at night, I would dance. Mr. Sheffield came in every night. I don’t think he was addicted to the girls or anything. I just got the feeling that he was lonely. That he liked the ambiance of the place. He never even had more than two drinks.” I say, “I started to notice him because he wasn’t like the other men.”
“How so?” he asks.
“He actually looked at my face.” I take a deep breath. “And he’d smile at me. It was…nice.”
“He was a good man," he says.
"He was." I nod. “One night when I was leaving, he grabbed my arm and stopped me. He asked me how old I was. No one in the club had asked me that, not even the owner when I asked for the job. His eyes were kind. I told him I was seventeen.”
“What happened after that?”
“He took me in. Let me stay at his place. He found me the job at the preschool, and helped me pass the test for my GED.” A tear shows up at the corner of my eye.
Mr. Sheffield treated me kindly. Never once made me feel like he wanted more from me. He didn’t ask questions about my past and I didn’t offer any information.
“I lived with him for two years. Then I started dating Jake. The day I moved in with Jake, Mr. Sheffield begged me to stay. Told me I was too young, that I should wait just one more year before I decide to move in with a partner.”
“But you went,” he says.
“Yeah. I left the first stable home I’d ever lived in and moved in with my asshole boyfriend.” A strangled laugh comes from the back of my throat. “Mistake, right?”
He shrugs. “We’re human. We’re made to chase love.”
His words resonate, echoing in the canyon of my soul. I’ve felt empty for so long, stupid for ever falling for Jake. But that’s what I was doing, all those humiliating nights I tried to make it work. I was chasing love. I glance up at Bryant. Solid, steady Bryant. Being with him doesn’t feel like chasing anything. It feels like running towards something.
My future.
“Thanks for that,” I say.
His hand returns to my face, pulling my mouth to his. “Love makes us do crazy things sometimes, doesn’t it?”
He envelops me in his kiss.