Unconscious Hearts

by Harper Sloan

  "Fuck."

  She doesn't say anything else, disconnecting with another laugh, but it's that throaty laughter of hers that I hear long after pocketing my phone that has me feeling as if I've just been given some kind of gift. Lightness. Fuck me, pure goddamn lightness settling deep in my bones.

  Yeah, two weeks in a cage wasn't shit if this is my reward for being patient.

  Then I wipe the smile from my face and stomp down the stairs to fire another one of my dancers because she can't keep her nose out of the fucking powder.

  I'm here.

  I was out of my seat and heading down the second I saw her name appear on the screen. Those two words settle deep, cooling my sour mood instantly. I ignore the guys from security who start waving me over when I open the door that takes me onto the floor of the male side, eyes on the back door, and push through into the night less than a minute after her text came through. When my eyes land on her, leaning against her car with two bags in her hand and a shy smile on her face, I'm done for.

  She could tell me to bow and kiss her feet, and I'd fucking drop to my knees in a heartbeat.

  She doesn't move. I stay where I am, holding the back door open so it doesn't lock, thankfully remembering the second I pushed it open that I left my keys up on my desk. I use that time to get my control in order so I don't drop to my knees for a whole different reason.

  "I went with Italian," she says with a shrug, and that shy smile is joined by two pink cheeks.

  "Babe."

  "I probably should have texted you first to make sure you liked Italian, but I figured, who doesn't like Italian?"

  Fuck, this girl.

  "Babe," I repeat.

  "You do like Italian, right?" she asks, looking at me with a frown.

  My fingers itch to touch her. To pull her into my arms and against my body. To feel her.

  Fuck, enough of this.

  "Ari, get the fuck over here and kiss me."

  Her eyes widen, and those pink cheeks turn red. I'm about to let the door go, not even giving a shit if I have to fucking walk us around the building to get back in. Not if that means I get my hands on her. I take a step forward, one arm stretching out, almost coming off the door. Then she moves, and before I can so much as adjust my hard cock, her body is against mine and her head is tipped back so she can look up at me.

  I bend, not needing to see that she's as close as she can get, standing on her toes.

  She gives a little bounce, confirming that she's rolled up as far as she can and needs a little more help than simply bending can give.

  I dip my head down another inch, and then those lips are on mine.

  I kick my foot to the side to hold the door, and move my hands to push into her thick hair, taking control of our kiss. She moans when I tilt her head, taking her mouth deeper. When I lift away, she doesn't open her eyes, and I lick my lips, her taste on my tongue making me want more.

  "Next time, Ari," I murmur low and deep, need in my tone that can't be disguised. When her hazel eyes are on me again, I continue. "Next time, I don't care if I haven't seen you for an hour, you kiss me."

  "Okay," she breathes. Instant. Certain. No fucking walls in the way to make her hesitate.

  "You like that?"

  She nods. "I like that."

  "Then, baby, give me those lips again."

  We finally make it back up to my office after I get a longer taste of those sweet lips. I've managed to ignore the voice inside me telling me to push her down on my desk and take more. I managed, just, and helped by clearing off my desk to make room for our dinner. She was still smiling by the time she finished unpacking all the food she brought. My hunger for the deliciously scented food she set down replaced the hunger I felt for her. She had so much food, all I could do was watch as she pulled more and more out of the bags she had carried in. Complete with plates, cutlery, and napkins.

  "What'd you do? Order one of everything they had?"

  "Close." She laughs. "I know the owner, so I just called and asked for an assortment of their entrees. I wasn't sure what you would like or how hungry you would be, so I ... uh, well, I wanted to be sure you would have something you liked."

  I say nothing, but when her blush comes back, that hits me just as hard as her wanting to make sure I was taken care of. I laugh to myself and grab a plate, silently loading it full with a little bit of everything from each carton my girl brought me.

  My girl. Yeah. I'm thinking I like the sound of that a whole hell of a lot.

  "So, tell me, how does one become the owner of a strip club?" she asks after we had settled into our seats.

  I look up, over my mountain of food, and glance only briefly at her plate, smiling at the differences between the two. "How anyone does, I guess. Worked my way up."

  She takes a bite of the lasagna, and it's the furrow of her brow that makes me drop the fork full I was about to eat back down to the plate. She wouldn't ask. I know she wouldn't. But I know she isn't satisfied with vague answers.

  "It found me." She swallows, that frown growing. "Sounds pretty stupid when I say that out loud, but it did. Grew up on the streets, even during the years I had a house I could've gone to. It was easier there, believe it or not. I was young, but I was fucking smart. It didn't hurt that, at sixteen, I looked much older. Before me, Harris was the owner here. When I showed up looking for a job, he had no reason to doubt my age when I could provide him with proof that I was old enough to be there."

  "If you looked even a little close to how you do now, I bet he would have believed you without proof." She laughs.

  "Not much has changed in over twenty years 'cept a few more gray hairs."

  Her mouth drops, and her eyes roam over my face. "Over twenty years?"

  "Babe." My lips twitch, and I take a bite of my food.

  "Did I wake up this morning and enter some world where people are immortal? There is no way you're old enough to be able to say 'over twenty years.'"

  Her blush comes back when I bark out a laugh. "A lesser man would fish for some more compliments to stroke his ego."

  "Yeah, well, you definitely don't have cause to lack any confidences over all of that," she smarts, using her fork and waving it around. "I mean, I guess I can see why you wouldn't need that."

  My shoulders shake, more laughter vibrating my chest. "Turned forty-one earlier this year. I might not look it, but there are mornings that I damn sure feel it."

  "Wow," she breathes. "I would have pegged you closer to my age."

  "Nine years isn't that far off."

  She looks down and stabs her fork into the spaghetti before twirling it, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. "I shouldn't be surprised you know my age. You did find my house with whatever resources you have at your fingertips. Anything else you already know about me?"

  She looks up, and I'm thankful I didn't press for more than the basic background check when I see her unease.

  "Know where you went to high school and college. Aside from your age and that you own both Trend and your house outright? No, Ari. The rest I wanted to learn straight from you."

  Her shoulders drop as the tenseness leaves, and she takes a deep breath. Yeah, I'm fucking glad I trusted my gut when I thought she would be less than happy to know I used my reach to find out more than the minimal.

  "Harris," I say, finishing the bite I had been chewing. "He owned The Alibi for a few decades before my sorry ass showed up. I could tell he didn't believe me, despite my flawless ID, but he put me to work. I was dancing for over a year before he called me on it. Might not have felt it then, but I was lucky to end up here. After the day he pulled me into his office to ask for the truth, he started grooming me to take over."

  "Just like that?"

  "Yeah, babe, just like that. He had a son, but he wasn't interested in The Alibi. Back then, it was just the one building," I say, pointing toward the male side. "I didn't add the female entertainment until about five years after he retired. Even then, h
is son wasn't interested. Didn't have a thing against strippers, seeing as he danced on the same stage I did, but it just wasn't the future he saw for himself. Me, though? It was the only future I had let myself plan, so I took what I learned and built this place into what it is now."

  "Um ..." she mumbles softly, licking her lips, eyes on me.

  "Don't get shy, Ari. You want to know something, ask me."

  "Okay," she breathes. "Did you ... dance for a long time?"

  "I won't lie to you, but fuck if I'm not worried that my honesty will make you run again."

  She wipes her mouth and leans back in the chair she had pulled up to the edge of my desk. "I won't run."

  "You sound sure of that."

  "We all have pasts."

  I scoff. "Ain't a single thing about mine that isn't tainted with filth."

  "It still made you the man you are today. I won't hold your past against you."

  Fuck, if she only knew.

  "I promise, Thorn," she stresses softly, eyes beseeching.

  "Twenty-five years ago, The Alibi wasn't a club known for just dancing. I started dancing, but when I realized the back rooms were where the money was, dancing wasn't the only thing I did when I took my clothes off. That was before I had the future Harris gave me when he retired and left The Alibi to me, so all I could do was work my ass off to make sure I didn't end up back on the streets. Showed up here at sixteen and I was down there on the floor using the only thing I had, my body, for almost five years. Spent more time helping Harris run shit and just dancing here and there, after. Until I danced for you, I hadn't been on the stage since I was twenty-two."

  "Um, I hate to make a joke about what I can tell was a hard time for you, but Thorn, if you moved like that after twenty years, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have lasted fifteen seconds back then."

  This time, the laughter that boomed from deep in my belly didn't sound as rusty as it had each time before. True to her promise, she not only didn't judge me for that shit, but she also clearly wasn't repulsed by the fact the man she was getting to know allowed others to pay for the enjoyment of his body.

  "You're just full of surprises," I tell her.

  "Like I said, we all have a past. So you've owned The Alibi since you were twenty-two?"

  "No, babe. I haven't danced since then. Harris pulled me off the stage and spent a few years teaching me everything he knew. Ran this place by his side until he retired. I was twenty-eight or so. Took a while to get the addition of the female side built. Had to completely close for a few weeks while they tore the roof off the old building and built my office up. After more headaches than I sometimes think were worth it, we had everything in place to reopen both sides. When he saw the profits after the first year of both clubs being open, I did more than prove he was right in pulling me off the stage and giving me the business he had started from dirt."

  "I might not know a lot about what you do, but even I know you have one heck of a place here. I don't know what it was like then, but in the short time I was down on that floor, it clearly doesn't lack happy customers."

  "You one of them?" I joke, dropping my fork and downing half the bottle of water she brought.

  "Depending on who's on the stage, I think I could become a regular."

  "You want more of that, and I guarantee you it won't be in a room full of other people."

  "Other people?" She chuckles. "That's funny because I didn't notice anyone else."

  "Fuck," I groan, leaning back to adjust my hard cock. "You flirt with me, Ari, you do it on my lap, so I can feel something other than my pants when you make me hard."

  She looks down but jerks her eyes back up when she realizes what she did, shifting in her seat. "I really liked watching you," she whispers. "Does everyone enjoy watching people take their clothes off and move to music like that?"

  "Ari," I warn.

  "Do you think some of the girls who dance here could teach me some moves so I could dance like that?"

  "Fuck it."

  When I push back my chair, it crashes behind me as I stalk around the desk. Her eyes widen with each step. Even with the fire blazing inside me, the fire she lit the match to, I reach out and, tender as fuck, pull her to her feet. She keeps those wide eyes, but they're full of the same heat I feel. I bend, hands on her hips, and pull her against my body. Her hands land on my chest, my cock pressing its hardness against her soft curves. When a groan vibrates against her hands, she smiles with pride.

  "It's hard enough to keep my cock from getting back into your pretty pussy, Ari. Keep talking like that and I'm pretty sure I'll prove to both of us that I suck at going slow."

  "I don't want slow. Not with you."

  I drop my forehead, keeping our gazes connected.

  "Not going slow made you run from me. I'm not fucking this up before I give us both what we want."

  She tips her head to the side. "And what's that?"

  "More."

  I don't give her a chance to say anything else. I close the distance, take her mouth, and drive her as wild as I feel. With each second that we spend locked against each other, her body grows heavier in my embrace until I'm forced to adjust my hold and lift her against me. Her fingertips roll against my scalp as she reaches up and grabs the longer part of my hair. When her legs part, wrapping around my hips, and the warmth of her pussy hits my cock, I growl against her mouth, and our kiss turns wild.

  It's a fucking miracle that I'm able to pull away minutes later. Seeing the dazed as fuck expression on her beautiful face, I'm determined never to have a day without her in my presence that she doesn't look up at me with that exact fucking look.

  That dazed look dims slightly, and she blinds me with her smile. "I think I'm going to like finding more with you, Thorn Evans."

  Goddamn. If I didn't know better, I'd swear my knees just shook. "Yeah, baby, you damn sure will."

  Definitely second best.

  I yawn, rolling my shoulders in the pointless effort of shaking some of the tiredness off me, and turn my car off. It's been like this all day. Even the quick hour-long power nap I took this afternoon on my couch at Trend didn't put a dent in the tiredness I was dragging around. It was worth it, though. So worth it.

  The past two nights after leaving Trend, I've gone to Thorn's office at The Alibi. After our first dinner, we didn't make out on his couch more than we talked, but after the second time he was pulled down to one of the floors, we stopped acting like horny teenagers and spent a few hours getting to know each other a little more. Of course, it was more me running my mouth and him listening. Last night, I had dinner with Piper and, unfortunately, Matt. After that, it had been late, but I stopped by after asking if he wanted me to bring him something from the restaurant. He shared a little, but not much, and again it had ended with me talking more than him. Both nights, he made sure that, no matter what, we were connected in some way. Either with our hands holding each other or him holding me. Hours of just sitting in his office felt nothing short of magical.

  And tonight, his managers are back, so we're going on a date. Though it's not technically our first date, it feels like it is. Which would account for the nerves.

  I grab my mail and purse off the passenger seat and step out of my car, waving at Doreen, my elderly neighbor, before walking up the pathway to my front door. I enter the code on my lock and step into my dark house. After telling my Echo to turn on my front room lights, I go to drop my purse and the mail down on the table off to the side of the front door, only to come out of my skin when I see Dwight sitting where my purse belongs. He blinks, and I swear those cat eyes of his narrow.

  "Go on, you big jerk!" I scold, waving the mail in front of him.

  He doesn't move.

  Of course, he doesn't because Dwight is a big freaking jerk that thrives on making my life more challenging.

  "Dwight," I fume. Pushing him with my purse, I earn a hiss immediately. "Move, you mean beast!"

  Hiss.

  My phone rings, and I g
lare at him. When it becomes clear he is definitely there to stay, I shove the mail into my purse and grab my phone out of the side pocket.

  "Hello," I greet, turning and walking to the wall on the other side of my foyer to drop my burdens onto one of the two chairs.

  "You okay?" Thorn's deep, yummy voice asks.

  I sigh, turn, and curse my stupid cat. The cat that is now gone from the spot he was determined to claim.

  "Do you want a cat?"

  Silence.

  "I could tell you he's the biggest sweetheart in the world and talk him up so you would really want him, but that would all be lies since he's the devil."

  "Babe."

  "You don't look like a cat person, but even the devil needs someone who will let him do hellish things. You're bigger than me; maybe he wouldn't be too vicious."

  "Hellish things?"

  "You have no idea."

  "Do hellish things mean you want to skip the movies tonight?"

  "Uh, no, they definitely do not. In fact, you would be doing him a favor by taking me out of this house before I call the vet and leave a message that I need an appointment to have the devil's balls removed."

  No sooner than the words leave my mouth does Dwight saunter back into view. He stops, looks right at me, and hisses. Jim comes prancing into the foyer happily, his body tries to stop, but with the hardwoods under him, he only ends up in a crash of hisses and fur when he collides with Dwight.

  "What was that?" Thorn asks, laughter in his voice.

  "That was hell cat being a jerk to his little brother."

  "Fuck. Stop being cute, Ari."

  "I'm not doing anything, Thorn."

  "Exactly." He grunts low. Before I can explain it's impossible to be doing nothing at the same time as doing whatever makes him think I'm cute, he continues. "I'll be there in ten. Try not to let hell cat win."

  "Right," I answer, stepping over said hell cat as he licks the balls he's so fond of. "You hear that, you evil jerk. Just ten minutes and if you make it that long, those balls of yours might live for you to keep licking them for another day."

  "Fuck."

  Then the line goes dead, and I hurry into the kitchen to feed the cats so they won't be waiting up late for their dinner. Jim gives me a lick when I place his bowl down, earning some ear scratches. Dwight just sits there and waits for his human slave to do what is expected. Jim takes a few seconds to stick his paw into Dwight's food, earning another cat glare from the beast before he goes back to his own bowl.