Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 by Nikki Lane (old books to read txt) 📗

face when he walked into the club only to find me swinging around the pole.

Jacob finished the last bite of his food, and I insisted on paying the check. I walked with him back to the truck.

He smiled. “Thanks for showing me around.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Meet you at your place?”

“Okay.”

He smiled, and it sent the butterflies swirling in my stomach. I smiled back, feeling a little excited about seeing him again so soon.

Jacob got in the old pickup truck, and I waved as he pulled out of the parking lot.

* * * *

It was my night on the main pole—my favorite one to work on. It was center stage and twenty feet high. Sarah was working on the smaller stage to the right, and some new girl was clinging to the pole on the smaller stage to the left. I recognized the terrified look in her eyes. Her body was stiff as she stared out to the crowd in front of her. One of my other rules—never look the crowd directly in the eye, only give them the illusion that you see them there.

I held on to the metal pole, warmed by the friction from my body, and slinked high up — higher than any other girl could reach. I arched my back, my hair fanning behind me. I spread my legs and pointed my toes as my body glided back down. I was nearly at the bottom when someone caught my attention. He’d just walked through the double doors, and his eyes searched the stage. He was looking for someone, and I had a feeling it was me.

I continued to dance as Rich made his way to one of the chairs in front of the stage. Our eyes locked as he sat down. I wanted him to know he didn’t intimidate me. I was going to give him exactly what he came here for. With one hand clasped around the pole, I swung around and slid to my knees. I made a slow crawl toward Rich, bits of my hair sticking to my damp skin. I lowered the front half of my body and jutted my ass in the air.

His gaze clung to my body as I did a slow roll onto my back and propped myself up on my elbows, feeling the familiar touch of someone easing cash between the strap of my G-string near my thigh. I crisscrossed my legs before letting them fall open right in front of Rich’s chair. He could enjoy the view all he wanted. But he was going to make it worth my while. I rolled onto all fours again, and he leaned in to add to the green paper stuffed along the thin line of material. My gaze broke away, and I didn’t look at him for the rest of my time on stage.

Back in the dressing room, I wiped off the sweat and pulled the money from my hips. I had ten minutes to smooth it out and put it in my locker before I had to go back out on the floor. I brushed my hair and put on some more deodorant before leaving.

Rich was standing near the bar, a beer in one hand. He wasn’t alone this time.

“Maeve,” he called over the music.

Sal was watching me. He’d noticed Rich had called my name. There was no way I could pretend like I didn’t hear him.

I made my way over. “What can I do for you guys tonight?” As if I didn’t already do enough.

“Looking good tonight, Maeve.” Rich took a sip of his beer.

“Thanks.” I wondered if his girlfriend knew where he was. Doubtful. They hardly ever did. The ones that did know were usually here with them. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

The guy didn’t take his eyes off my tits, but he was cute. I could probably talk him into a private dance.

Rich said the guy’s name, but I couldn’t hear over the DJ’s announcement of the new girls on stage. His name didn’t matter. Just the green in his wallet. I smiled at him and shook his sweaty hand. He was nervous — even better.

I asked the guy a few questions to butter him up, but it was like trying to pry open a dead clam.

“How about a drink?” Rich asked me.

“No, thank you.” Rule number three — never drink at work. Ever.

Rich leaned in close to my ear. “How about a dance?”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come here for one. “Sure.”

He followed me to the other room. It was a Friday night so most of the couches were already taken. I walked to the last one empty in the back corner of the room, passing the other dancers.

“Have a seat,” I told him. He set his beer down and put the money for the dance on the side table. I drew the curtain closed as he lounged back in his seat.

I started to dance slow and steady in front of him. Did it make me feel objectified? Maybe a little. But this was my job, and I treated it as such. I slinked my way closer to him and turned so that my ass and back were facing Rich. I leaned into him and gyrated my ass on his lap, throwing my head back onto his shoulders. “Where’s the girlfriend tonight?”

He let out a low groan. “What girlfriend?”

I reached my hand behind his head and grazed my fingers down his square jaw. Despite his shitty attitude, I still found him attractive. I knew he gave me a hard time because I’d refused to settle down with him and be his girlfriend. I’d hurt him, and he wouldn’t ever let me forget it. I rolled up and turned to straddle his waist. I gathered my hair to one side and undulated in his lap, resting my hands on either side of his shoulders. His hands rested on my hips, and I let them