Soul Surrender Read Free Page A

the present.
    From his back pocket, Ryan opened an expensive-looking leather wallet and pulled out a fistful of cash. He held it out for Lenny, still not tearing his eyes away from me. “Not to worry,” he said, his green eyes twinkling, “I’ll take good care of the lady, too.”
    Everything inside me clenched. Leaning into his chest, I ran both palms down his arms and grasped his hands. With a tug, I directed him to one of the private rooms in the back. For one of the first times working here at the club, I was nervous. Guilt gnawed deep in my belly. This is a job. He is a necessity to keep on living.
    The wooden legs of the chair scraped across the floor as I placed it in the center of the private room. His saunter was slow, with one hand tucked into his front pocket. The other brushed along his top lip. He flicked a glance at the chair. “I’d rather stand, if that’s all right with you.”
    â€œSure. Of course.” In all my years dancing, I’d never once had a client want to stand during my dance. With a little remote, I set the music low, the vibrations pulsing through my body. He closed in, backing me against the wall. What was that smell? His scent was so familiar.
    His breath was hot, and the itch for his life force flared inside of me. Between my legs the ache was so agonizing, I didn’t know if I could make it through an entire dance.
    â€œLet me help you,” he rasped, curling his fingers under my still-damp shirt and lifting it above my head. Blood rushed behind my eyes, roaring in my head. “In fact”—his fingers skimmed the curve of where waist meets hip, and he popped the button on my jeans—“what are the chances we can skip the dance?”
    The breath hitched in my throat—why did this guy affect me so? Sure, he looked like Drew, but I was supposed to cloud his thoughts, not the other way around. He tilted his lips, covering my mouth in a scorching kiss that resonated between my legs.
    I slid my palms under his jacket, and impressive shoulders clenched under my touch. The jacket fell to the floor, and I popped his shirt buttons open, one by one. A silver cross gleamed around his neck. I immediately withdrew, snapping my hands back to my sides.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Despite the question, something knowing gleamed in his eyes, and I narrowed mine to slits.
    â€œNothing.” I went back to undoing buttons, careful not to touch the cross, and he shuffled his arms out of the shirt. His chest and abs were marble—pure chiseled rock.
    His thumbs hooked into my jeans and I shimmied out of them. One hand cupped my sex through my damp panties, and his thumb pressed into my clit. With flattened palms shoved against the wall behind me, my trembling knees gave out and I fell back, allowing the wall to absorb my weight.
    His chuckle was a practiced lullaby, and he caught me around the waist. “Easy, there.” Sure, easy for him to say. Two muscled thighs flanked either side of me like two columns. The cross around his neck winked at me in the soft lighting, and a lump lodged in my throat.
    â€œCould you take off your necklace?” The interruption was an odd one, sure. But I doubted I could enjoy myself knowing at any moment the holy relic could scald my skin. Branding me as Hellspawn.
    He quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”
    I sidled closer, my ache deepening with each passing second. “I just . . . prefer not to have a constant religious reminder for the duration of our time together.”
    He didn’t respond right away. His face was masked with stern lines and a gritted jaw. “What if I don’t want to take it off?”
    I snapped my eyes back to his. Why wouldn’t he want to remove a cross? Unless he knew . . .
    The pregnant pause was unnerving. From just outside the door, the bass thumped under a low hum of chatter and laughter.
    â€œOr,” he continued, “I suppose I could