Vivian Arend - Whirlpool

Chelsea tucked back into the shadows and closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself and slowing the rapid beat of her pulse. In just minutes she’d be the one out there in the spotlight, letting her body tell the story as she performed.

Fine, it wasn’t dancing on Broadway, but it made her happy, brought in a few bucks and the guys loved it.

Ms. Cowboy finished up and gathered her money from the stage. She slipped past Chelsea breathlessly. “Break a leg, girl. They’re hot tonight.”

The tone of the music changed and Chelsea rocked her body in time with the opening beats. She took a deep breath and let the rhythm settle over her. Head lowered she paced slowly out onto the stage and the collective groan from the masculine throats was oh-so-wonderful to hear.

She didn’t do a bump and grind like some of the girls. She could—she knew how to pole dance with the best of them—but she’d choreographed this routine as a tease into the world of the merfolk. The shimmering blue body paint she wore flashed under the special lights, creating the illusion of the same glow she would see while making love. It turned her on, imagining her and Braden, lights flicking around them. She approached the edge of the stage and smiled into the crowd, her gaze fixing on Jamie, and suddenly her smile was real. There was something special about the man, more than the fact they were becoming friends.

His expression right now was priceless. She’d told him she was a dancer, brought him into the club then left him alone while she went to get ready. Surely the previous girls’ performances would have clued him in, but the shock on his face made her want to giggle. The heat that built as he looked her over from head to toe gave a pleasant buzz to her whole body. She waggled her fingers at him suggestively and watched with delight as the men on either side of him elbowed and joshed him for receiving special attention.

The beat picked up in her music and she had to concentrate. Returning to the middle of the stage, she set in motion the sensual routine she hoped would pull them all into a whirlpool of passion with her.

She danced, every part of her body engaged in the storytelling. Bent low to the ground she pretended to swim across the floor, perching up onto a rock and preening her hair back off her shoulder. The long ringlets of her extensions hung to her hips, teasing the bare skin above her buttocks with every swing. Teasing like the brush of a hand, like Jamie’s fingers had stroked her skin the other day, and she unconsciously sought his eyes.

When the dance took her back to the edge of the stage, she slipped down, lowering herself to the floor. The bouncers stiffened, but let her continue as she moved toward Jamie, her hips moving from side to side with an increasing tempo.

His jaw hung open and she slid a hand down his cheek before twirling before him. Her hands landed on his thighs as she leaned over, undulating her torso from side to side. The pull between them made her drop the choreographed plans and dive in over her head. She pressed his legs together and straddled him. He stared at her face, his eyes blazing as she rocked her hips lower, the thin strip of fabric covering her pussy rubbing his dress pants, knocking against the rock-hard erection straining the front of his trousers.

“Chelsea…” He choked out the words. She shimmied again, this time sitting on his thighs and raising a leg in the air. The back of her calf rested on his collarbone, her body heat melding with his, and he swore softly.

The emotion she saw in his eyes hit her hard. The blue paint she wore now hid her own reaction, the real shimmer of arousal rising from her body as she reacted to the need pouring off him. She extracted herself from the tangle she’d pulled them into and grabbed him by the collar.

“Chels, no more,” he whispered.

She hesitated for a second then spun away, leaping onto the stage. Oh God, what had she done? Passion flared hard through her, need making her pulse jump and her core ache for a lover. The remainder of her song went far too quickly, the spotlights in her eyes blinding her to any of the faces in the crowd.

The music faded and she escaped, the whistles and clapping shaking the rafters.

“Aren’t you going around to pick up your money?” one of the other dancers asked.

Chelsea shook her head. “I’ll let Kasey grab it for me this time. I need to head out.”

The girl winked. “I see you’ve got a new boyfriend. He’s cute.”

Shit . Chelsea stripped off her costume as fast as she could. All her plans were royally screwed. She had timed it so she’d have at least thirty minutes before all hell broke loose. Now she wished for longer—time to go find Jamie and apologize. To ask him to understand she hadn’t meant to torment him—hell, torment herself. The incredible reaction between them had come on so hard and strong… She wrapped her arms around herself for a second. She fought the hard ache in her core that made her want to race into the crowd and grab Jamie. A glance in the mirror reminded her the body paint was still there, but she had no time to take it off and still make it home before Braden. She snatched up a wrap and fled out the door, racing across the parking lot and jumping into her car as quickly as she could.

Only then did she breathe out a sigh of relief, relaxing back onto the seat and letting go of the nervous tension that had claimed her. She’d planned the evening as a final-ditch attempt to get Braden’s attention, but she hadn’t expected to experience such a strong response to Jamie.

The door beside her jerked open. Chelsea’s heart leapt into her throat and she swung a fist at the intruder.

Braden caught it with his mitt of a hand. “None of that.”

“Holy shit, what do you think—?”

“Don’t move,” he ordered. He closed her door and came around to the passenger side, yanked the door open and folded himself into the seat. “You’ve got the drive home to figure out how you’re going explain yourself.”

“What are you doing in my car? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He reached across to turn on the ignition. The motor roared to life and she twisted to examine his face. He shook his head then leaned back in his seat, avoiding her eyes. “Drive. We’ll talk when we get home.”

Bastard . Chelsea jerked the car into gear and burned rubber, peeling out of the parking lot. What the hell was he going to do, slap a fine on her? She glanced at him. He wasn’t wearing his uniform.

Ah, shit…there was part of the problem. He was supposed to be on duty tonight. She’d left word for him to drop in at the Grotto, but figured he’d have gone in uniform. It should have taken until the end of his shift to be able to track her down if he’d been pissed off. Only if he wasn’t on duty…

Hell . None of this was working out. Jamie was probably annoyed beyond belief with her, and Braden was going to reject her again. She slowed and drove more carefully. Not like she needed to get into any more trouble tonight than she already was. She pulled into the driveway of the house and parked, slipping out and heading inside without another word spoken.

Fine. She’d leave as wide a space between her and Braden as possible. They might be stuck housesitting together but this was the last time she was going to try to get him to see her as a woman.

She kicked off her shoes and turned to hide in her room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Braden locked the door behind them then blocked her path. His expressionless face taunted her more than if he’d been angry or sad. Obviously he didn’t give a damn and it was time to move on.

“I’m taking a shower and going to bed. Good night.”