Free Stripped Bare by Kalinda Grace Page B

minutes have passed.
    “Something wrong?”
    I shake my head. “No. I’m just not sure what you expect of me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, you paid for two hours. Lap dances don’t usually take that long.”
    Jax chuckles. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t want a lap dance. I thought we could talk.”
    “Talk?” I say it like it’s a foreign word. As if I’ve never just made idle chit-chat before. Which I haven’t. Not in this room, anyway.
    “Is that okay?” His brow creases, as if he’s unsure.
    “You just want to talk?”
    He nods.
    “You paid a lot of money to just talk to me.”
    His gaze burns into mine.
    “Yes, I did, and I can already tell it’s going to be worth every penny.”
     

 
    She’s suspicious, which impresses me.
    Everything about her does.
    “Would you like to sit?”
    Tesla nods. I grab the bottle of wine before leading her over to the leather loveseat.
    Tesla.
    It’s perfect, really. Unique. Beautiful.
    But right now, she’s tense, and that’s the last thing I want her to be.
    I tell her to relax as we sit down. She exhales a deep breath and crosses her legs. Tesla followed my instructions to dress comfortably, except for the heels. Not that I’m complaining. Her legs look fucking spectacular in them. Still, I want her to feel at ease.
    “Are those comfortable?” I ask, nodding at the stilettos.
    “Not particularly.”
    “Feel free to slip them off.”
    She looks uncertain, until finally, she kicks off the shoes. I watch, captivated, as she flexes her toes, giving them the chance to relax.
    “Better?”
    “Yes, thanks.” She takes another sip of wine.
    “Are you nervous?”
    “Is it that obvious?”
    I smile, because yes, it’s painfully obvious.
    “We’re just talking, Tesla.”
    Her forehead creases. “It’s just that . . . there isn’t usually much talking in the VIP rooms, unless it’s—”
    “Talking dirty?”
    A gorgeous blush crosses her cheeks, and I find it ironic. After all, she was just bare-assed in front of a room full of men.
    “You don’t like talking dirty?”
    She shrugs. “I do it because they pay for it. It’s just part of the gig. But no, I don’t enjoy it.”
    “Do you enjoy dancing?”
    “I love to dance.”
    “Do you like exotic dancing?”
    “It’s an art. People have no idea how difficult it is.”
    “But you don’t enjoy it.”
    “I don’t like stripping, no.”
    “Then why do it?”
    She laughs lightly. “How much did you just pay to spend two hours with me?”
    I don’t have to give her the total. She knows.
    “ That’s why I do it, Jax.”
    “So it’s the money.”
    “Yes.”
    I nod. It’s the perfect answer.
    “How old are you, Tesla?”
    “I’m twenty-four.”
    “I’m twenty-eight,” I reply. She didn’t ask, but I want her to be comfortable with me. “Did you always want to be a dancer?”
    “I wanted to be a ballerina. I was, for a while.”
    “What happened?”
    Tesla sighs softly. “Last year I was dancing in a production of Swan Lake when I broke my big toe.”
    “And a broken toe is a career-ending injury for a ballerina?”
    “It ended mine.” Her voice is despondent and melancholy.
    “I’m sorry.”
    She shrugs and finishes her wine.
    “What would you like to do now? For a career, I mean.”
    “I’d really like to finish college,” she says. “My parents insisted I have a backup plan in case dancing didn’t work out, so I majored in culinary arts. I’d like to open a bakery someday.”
    She glances at the clock again, and I wish I’d asked Rick to rip the damn thing off the wall.
    “I make you nervous, don’t I?”
    “A little, yes.”
    Her honesty fascinates me. Of course I make her nervous. I’ve just asked for two hours of her time, and she’s out of her element. Normally, she’d be . . .
    And then I realize I don’t know.
    “What does two hours in the VIP room typically consist of?”
    “I don’t think anyone in the history of the club has ever