by Ellen March
“She didn’t sack me, so I can’t complain,” said Micah, watching Savannah as she moved through the crowd.
***
Savannah sucked in a nervous sigh. She wasn’t keen on crowds. Scanning the place, she reflected that the club was totally different, now it was filled with people. When she’d been shown it by Charu in the afternoon it appeared huge. Now it was overflowing with bodies. Again she wondered why it was losing money.
She wasn’t Einstein, but it didn’t make sense, even to her meagre brain. If it was this busy every night, then it should be making a sizeable profit.
Savannah happened to glance up at Micah. A semblance of calm descended on her, knowing he was there. She was so glad she hadn’t sacked him.
Charu moved over to her and a smile filtered over scarlet lips.
Savannah thought she looked like an extra in the night of the living dead. Her complexion was dazzling white, and her hair stark black. The only other colour was the vibrant red of her lips, nails, and dress. Blood red.
“How are you enjoying yourself?” Charu raised a thin, inquisitive brow. “Is it what you expected?”
Savannah glanced around. “Bit difficult to tell. It depends on the acts, I guess. I mean, I’ve only just arrived.”
“Well, you’re about to be entertained.” Charu grinned. “The first of our strippers is coming on.”
“Can’t wait,” Savannah muttered, and slunk a peep at Micah. She didn’t miss how he stood out in his black suit, the white shirt glaring, his piercing blue gaze blistering around. He stood head and shoulders over most of the crowd, and she realized he was a damn good preventative. Who in their right mind would take him on?
She conveniently discounted their first meeting.
I would, cried her libido. She fought to switch her gaze from him, reminding her horny hormones just who was in charge.
The music that had resonated in the background changed to a sexy, hip-thrusting tempo. Savannah stared in morbid fascination as the curtains to a large stage slowly opened. The olive green swaths of material folded and revealed a single woman.
A slim figure rocked and swung to the sounds that pulsed over the stage. Each movement graceful and teasing, she weaved in a seductive dance. Fascinated, Savannah moved in rhythm with each leisurely action, then glanced at Micah. She noticed with a flush of annoyance a grin playing around his lips—how he remained leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him. His attention was focused on the dancer.
Suddenly he turned. His gaze fused over her, and she felt the heat at the intensity that speared her. It was seconds, yet it seemed an eternity and she forgot to breathe.
Just as quickly he looked away.
Savannah flushed as the woman stripped down to her sexy underwear and wished she looked like that. She dropped her gaze as the remaining garments fluttered to the floor. Finally the stripper stood naked beneath the spotlight.
Again she looked for Micah, and again his gaze met hers. A burning flare, his eyes snapped over her and for one second she read a question in them.
Before it vanished.
Whoa … he’s gay, he’s your friend, nothing more, girl, she chastised herself.
***
Hell, if she’d rung his mobile, Micah knew he couldn’t feel any more connected.
He was worried. Each time she settled her attention on him, he felt it. Returned the interest. It was as if they were the only two people in the room. Even the stripper did nothing for him; instead he was more concerned with Savannah’s reaction. Micah didn’t like it, how she appeared embarrassed.
He was worried how she was going to cope, running this place. Because she might be a fiery female, but beneath that crisp exterior, she was soft as butter. He’d seen that when she’d tried to sack him. Micah also knew she wouldn’t last two minutes in this business.
However, what worried him most was why the hell he cared what happened to her. One month, and he’d be leaving. How she coped had nothing to do with him.
So why was he concerned? It was a foreign emotion to him. He quietly pondered this revelation, unable to come up with an answer.
Chapter Seven
Savannah circulated around the place, getting used to the crowds. Several times she’d slapped at a wandering hand and shot the offender a glare. Jeez, she decided, there were some randy customers around.
The strippers had finished, and she’d watched with rapture the burlesque dancer, loving the fact she revealed nothing. Scanning the crowd of eager faces, she could see the woman’s wiles were working on them. The room was silent, and each set of eyes was pinned on the golden woman with the snapping wrist and well-placed fans.
She wished she could dance like that. A dreamy expression crossed her face as she imagined what it would be like to hold a crowd captive. To tease and tantalize without giving anything away. Savannah remembered her attempts at night classes using the dance as a form of keep fit. She’d always been fascinated with burlesque. Unfortunately, when it came to slowly stripping, she’d decided that no way was she baring her body.
Peering down at her watch, Savannah was surprised to see it was moving on towards two in the morning. She glanced around through the thinning crowds, craning her neck for a glimpse of Micah.
She hadn’t seen him for a while and decided to go looking for him.
Her hunt took her into the lobby that was the entrance to the club. She wondered if he could be checking on the people leaving.
Suddenly she felt a pair of arms circle her waist and spin her around.
“You looking for some company?” slurred a deep voice that was joined by another.
“We can have us a threesome. You up for that?”
Savannah felt her breast clenched by a hand and saw red. She exploded into a rabid wild cat. “Get your paws off me, you randy bastard!” Her scream echoed around the room as she swiftly brought her knee up, catching the stranger straight in the balls with a vicious thud.
“You bitch,” he groaned. Leaving her go, he grasped himself, his earlier good humour gone. “You are going to be one sorry lady.” He brought his arm back, his fingers bunched into a fist.
“You’re going to be the sorry one,” swore Micah. Clenching the man’s arm, he threw him to the floor. His leg lashed out in a high karate kick at the second man, and he fell back. “Now get out of here and don’t ever come back.” He glared at the two of them, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the sudden exertion. He spared a glance at Savannah to ensure she was safe; then he opened the door and all but pushed them through before slamming it hard behind them.
It was over in a split second, yet the controlled fury Savannah had witnessed scared her. Micah, she had to admit, was one mean fighting machine.
Slowly he turned to her. His eyes flashed a dark, midnight blue. “Just what the hell are you doing wandering out here?”
“Looking for you, actually, and then those two apes turned up.” She tilted her chin defiantly. “I had everything under control.”
“Oh yeah, I could see that. He was going to punch you out.” His growl shuddered over her and he leaned down, taking her shoulders and forcing her to look up at him. “Do you know what they would have done then?” Micah shook her. “Do you?”
Savannah couldn’t speak. His lips were too close, his breath hot across hers. A sudden flood of startled tears racked across her eyes. Now that her temper had abated, the fear slunk in.
Micah dropped his head. He was so close, could feel her trembling, and his gaze hooked onto her sweet mouth that edged just on the side of large. “You haven’t answered me,” he muttered. Any second now he would be covering her lips, sucking them, less than a breath separating them.
Micah melted at her soft brown eyes awash with tears and drew back. Shaken, he sucked in a sigh. He’d been a nanosecond away from claiming her lips. It was then he knew he had to keep his distance from her.
But how?
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
&n
bsp; She nodded because she couldn’t speak. Savannah had prayed he was going to kiss her. He’d been so close. And then zilch. She scrubbed a hand across her traitorous tears, suddenly feeling so very lonely.
She’d never been without Cato, and now she was alone, along with running the club. It became too much and the droplets fell. She was tired, scared, and miserable.
She launched herself at Micah, coiled her arms around his waist and sobbed.
“Oh shit,” muttered Micah. Unsure what to do, he tried to calm her horrendous screeching. “Listen, honey, can you ease up on your wailing? You’ll scare the rest of the punters.”
She hiccoughed to a stop and raised her head slowly. “What did you say?”
Micah didn’t like the look she was giving him, the glint in her eyes pure evil. “It’s a business, your business, and if anyone comes out here and sees you in hysterics, well …?”
“I was not in hysterics,” she spat. Moving back, she unfurled her arms and slammed a pointed finger into his chest. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, comforting me, not making fun.”
“Honey, I warned you to stop doing that,” he said softly, his temper rising. Micah wished she wasn’t so bloody minded. “I don’t like being prodded.”
“Yeah, so what are you going to do about it?” Deliberately Savannah stabbed him again with the point of her finger.
“Right. That’s enough, you brat.” Micah scooped her up and flung her over his shoulders.
“Put me down,” she screeched at the suddenness of his action.
Micah ignored her storming tantrum and gave her a thwack across her backside.
As one hand held her down, the other punched in a set of digits in the security box, and he thundered up the stairs. Flinging the door open, Micah crossed to the bed, and sitting down, pulled her across his lap.
Savannah kicked and cursed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Teaching you manners.”
She felt a draught as her dress was hauled up, and screamed at the first snap of his hand across her ass.
Micah stared down at the thong riding between her crack. He slapped her hard, and without thinking, his hand automatically cradled her cheeks. Gently he ran his palm over the redness, then slapped her again.
“That’s your punishment. Consider yourself let off lightly.
She was hot, horny, and so excited, but then suddenly he rose, dropping her. She lay for a second in shocked silence on the floor and listened as his heavy steps crossed the room. Savannah glanced up in time to see him leave, slamming the door behind him so hard it rattled.
She wondered if she’d missed something, until the ache continued. And she knew damn well what it was. An orgasm. She cursed him loud and hard.
Then went in search of Eveready.
***
It was almost noon before Savannah rose. She’d spent a restless night, mainly because her batteries had failed and she’d had to go manual. The other problem was she couldn’t believe that he’d actually slapped her ass.
But what she couldn’t understand was his rapid departure and her toss to the floor. At the very least he could have warned her, she thought with a snatch of irritation. She decided to chat with him about it.
She was entitled, after all. He was her BGF.
She wandered downstairs into the small office, and as it was empty, decided to root around the place. Everything appeared to be a haphazard mess, until she came across a red book, and opening it, checked out the transactions. It was dated up until the previous week, and judging by the large number of entries in the column of money coming in, something was seriously wrong.
Taking the ledger, she snuck it up to her room, deciding to have a good read of it later. Savannah also intended searching Kitty’s room for a sign of anything personal. Something that could make her feel closer to the woman who had recently given her so much. She wished she’d met her, had got to know her godmother. Satisfied that she had a plan, she trotted back downstairs in search of Micah.
Wandering through the silence of the house, she wondered where he could be. Then she heard feminine laughter and a splash of water. Guided by the sounds, she found herself at the rear of the house, overlooking a giant swimming pool. A regular oasis surrounded by a large patio with barrels of flowers and a hedge of high trees.
Surprise, surprise, because in the middle of the pool, swimming up and down, was Micah. His arms cut through the water, slicing in a churning avalanche. His tanned skin glistened beneath the water. A smiling Charu leaned provocatively against the end, waiting. Her white bikini was almost transparent, revealing her dark nipples beneath the wet material.
Savannah experienced a wave of jealousy when he reached Charu, and standing in the shallows, shook his head. Fine crystalline droplets sparkled through the air as he turned to the laughing Charu. Savannah knew exactly what she’d like to do to her.
Drown the bitch.
She raised her brow as she spotted Charu’s hand slowly caressing his shoulder. How it tinkled down his chest and dipped low.
“Morning,” she yelled, uncaring what time of day it was. No way was she allowing an exploratory trip in front of her. She was looking out for her BGF.
***
Micah closed his eyes for a brief snap. He hadn’t slept, thinking of her, had dropped her before he made love to her, and now he was seconds away from a hand job and she had to blow it?
He didn’t even care if Charu told Rio. He was getting desperate, and to hell with the bet.
And it was all Savannah’s fault.
She was the one igniting his fire, and he knew that soon he was going to stoke her coals and to hell with the consequences.
Pasting a smile on his face, he turned and waved. Charu glared and slowly swam across the shallows to the steps. With gravity-defying ease she swept out of the pool, each step executed with precision. Slowly she swayed, shaking her ass. She was showing Micah exactly what he could have, and Micah swallowed, because he was sexually frustrated.
But he knew whose ass he wanted, and it wasn’t hers anymore.
Charu slung a sarong around her body and nodded to Savannah. “I’ll get changed. See you later.”
***
Savannah watched her leave, then turned to Micah, who was leisurely studying her. He was leaning on the side of the pool, his arms stretched out on the tiles.
“If you weren’t gay you’d be in there,” she said, trying to tamp down the green demon.
“I know,” he agreed, then swam towards the steps and left the water.
Savannah wished he’d stayed put. She also wished her lungs would exhale. Because she’d forgotten to breathe.
Her gaze was drawn to his body—to his package, to be exact. She scrunched her eyes closed at his sexy swagger. His hips should be arrested for indecency. Then she switched her attention to his lunchbox, and Christ but he could feed the starving. He is so not available, she reminded herself.
Savannah sucked in her frustration. “I want to talk to you.”
Micah picked up a towel and rubbed it over his body in slow swipes, all the while watching her to gauge her reaction. He noted the way her eyes constantly flickered over him, across his crotch.
After each inspection, she blushed. Micah found that baffling but endearing.
All his women were seasoned and knew the score, their innocence long forgotten. Her reaction confused him. Why would she flush with obvious embarrassment? At her age—mid to late twenties—she must have been in a number of sexual relationships, he reasoned. “Go ahead,” he said. Micah buried any images of another male thrusting into her, along with a sudden glut of pure, white-hot anger.
Dropping to the nearby seat, he leaned back and waited.
She sucked in a deep breath. This was so not the conversation she’d thought she’d be having with her BGF. “It’s to do with what you did to me last night.”
A frown settled over him as he wondered if he was going to face the sack again. But this time it was
n’t losing the bet that bothered him.
It was leaving her alone.
A disturbing emotion was digging its claws in. Normally he didn’t care about anyone. And now? In a sharp space of time she was evoking everything alien. “I was teaching you a lesson in manners. Got a problem with that?”
“Well actually, no. I, um, I well, I, oh shit …. Look, I liked it, okay?” Her cheeks flamed bright red.
Micah swallowed. It wasn’t what he was expecting. He casually draped the towel over his growing erection. He slanted his head, waiting. He knew she hadn’t finished and was curious as to where it was leading.
Savannah wished he’d speak, make it easier, instead of looking at her with that sinfully sexy expression, his lush lips curving into a slow smile. “I’d like to do it again. That is, I mean, if you don’t mind. If I’m not, well, if I’m not bothering you too much.”
Micah almost choked. Was she for real? “I’m not into the BDSM scene, honey,” he finally said, his voice dropping to a mere whisper.
“So that wasn’t—you know—a prelude to something more?”
“Nope.” He grinned at the shock registering on her face. “It was a punishment, a one off, nothing more, honey.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought wrong. We’re friends, not sexual counterparts.”
“Okay, take a chill pill, will you.” A blast of heat stole over her face. She was blushing furiously.
Micah coughed. His shaft hardened and he tried to take deep breaths. “Is it usual for gay friends to act so intimate?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I told you, I’ve never had one before.” Then she pinned him with a stare. “So, what do you reckon … are you sure we can’t try that tonight?” Savannah was determined to get her way and soon. Her pussy was cramped and screaming for release. She also needed to search out batteries. There was only so much her hand could do without aching.
Micah sucked in his breath. It hurt, almost as much as his straining erection. “Didn’t any of your boyfriends do it for you?”
“None of them did anything—not a climax, zilch.”
