Black Romance 22 Promise

"That's because it is." Adjusting the cuff on my sleeve, I tugged it down. "I'm not confusing. I've been pretty clear with you about what I want." Stroking my jaw, I slouched into the seat. "I might like games, but I haven't played any with you. . ." Pausing, I let the air dangle between us until I could see her body tense, waiting for me to continue. "Yet."

"Is that what you think?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "I think you've done nothing but play games with me."

"Please, humor me with why."

"Well," she said, spreading her legs wide open as she rocked with the beat. "The first night you seemed guarded, the second night you refused to listen to me when I told you to leave, the third you warned me about how dangerous you are, and tonight you just seem settled, as if you own the seat you're sitting in." Popping her a.s.s, she rode the pole back up. "I'd call that playing games."

This woman takes notes. She pays attention.

But she's wrong.

"Was I clear about what I wanted every time I was here?"

"Yes." Nodding her head, her fingers clenched the pole as she twirled.

"Then how I act doesn't matter. If I want to sit and watch, I will. If I want to get up and walk around, I f.u.c.king will. If I decide I want you to do a f.u.c.king headstand and sing for me. . ." My lip twitched, head angling into my shoulder. "You will."

"What the h.e.l.l is the point you're trying to make? That you're in charge? Because I'm pretty sure I made that clear the first day."

"The point is, you'll know what I want from you, but what I do or how I act is irrelevant. It's that simple."

"Is it really that simple?" she asked, snapping out her hip as she stood still, her body stiff and rigid.

Pus.h.i.+ng my hands into the arm of the chair, I stood myself up and walked to the edge of the stage. Using the very tips of my fingers, I tickled her ankle, gently running my fingers up and down her calf.

"Tell me your name," I said, tracing the muscle in her calf, circling her ankle and riding the muscle back up.

"I told you already, it's Ash."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Your real name." My hand kept sweeping up and down her leg, feeling her silky smooth skin.

Her eyes steadied in the sockets as the question drew out an uncomfortable shudder. Taking a step back, she pulled her leg away. "I can't do that."

"Yes you can."

Curling her arms over her chest, I watched her trying to protect herself. "I can't do that, it's against the rules."

"I make the rules in here, no one else. You told me that, you said the word no doesn't exist in here. So, give me what I want, tell me your name."

"Why don't you tell me yours first?"

"Fine," I said, holding out my arms as if I was an open book. Biting my bottom lip, I arched my brows, letting my eyes scan her face. "Bentley, there, now it's your turn."

"I thought you said it was Salt?"

Smirking, I leaned over the stage and took her hand, pulling her back into reach. "It is, that's what other people call me. But I want your real name, so I'm willing to trade, mine for yours."

"Well, I can't, I'm sorry."

"You can and you will." Veering my stare, I tilted my head. "You said before I can have anything I want in here, that's what I want, I want your real name."

Tearing her hand free from mine, her brows dipped into the bridge of her nose. "I told you I can't." Her voice was low as she spoke through clenched teeth. "I can do anything else for you, but I can't give you my real name."

You're going to give me what I want.

Climbing onto the stage, Ash started to back up more, her eyes huge and surprised. Stalking forward, I trapped her against the wall. Cupping her chin, I lifted her face, forcing her eyes onto mine.

"Are you really telling me no?" She didn't answer, she just stared up at me, her skin was.h.i.+ng white with concern. "Because bad things happen when people tell me no."

A s.h.i.+ver ran over her body, the tremble so fierce I felt it zip through the pads of my fingers. Swallowing hard, Ash crooked her jaw, glaring at me with razor sharp eyes.

"Is that a threat?" she asked, her words cold and abrasive.

She's not afraid me.

What have you been through, my flower?

"It's a promise." Leaning in, I kissed her forehead as my thumb drew small circles over her chin. "And I always keep my promises."