Chapter 12

Twelve

EMORY

I'm cool, calm, and collected.

My heart is beating out of my chest, but that's only because I want to strangle Scottie's boss because what kind of man puts cameras in the private rooms to watch the strippers with their clients? All I can picture is a sweaty man with his dick in his hand, beating off while watching a ton of monitors in his stuffy office.

The racing of my heart has nothing to do with Scottie standing in front of me only wearing two very revealing pieces of fabric. One for her round, perky breasts and the other hardly covering her perfect ass. I'll admit that she's hiding more of herself than some of the women in this establishment, but that's probably why every man's eyes are drawn to her instead of the others.

At least she leaves something to the imagination.

Not much, but there's a dark part of me that begs to see her nipples hidden by the lacey material.

I brush the thought off and get back on track.

"Dance, little Rogue. Or else your boss is going to be disappointed." I lean back in the chair a little more and spread my legs, appearing relaxed and completely unbothered by her standing there half naked. My thighs are tight from practice, and my neck has a knot in it bigger than the one that formed in my core when I made the decision to come back here to propose an absolutely insane idea.

When Ford says an idea is crazy, you know it's damn near close to being certifiable.

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

All of a sudden, the lights dim, and Scottie lets out a shaky sigh. Music starts to play from somewhere, and I'm back to picturing her boss sitting at his desk with his hand in his pants. He's clearly ready for a show if he's controlling the lights and music.

Scottie slowly strides over the floor, and to my surprise, she keeps her eyes pinned to mine. They flare with something wildly inviting, and it's like, all of a sudden, she's flipped a switch. Her hands land on my shoulders, and she straddles my legs. Her hips start to sway back and forth, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to grip her tightly around the waist and succumb to the sensuality that she's putting off.

Fuck her for being so goddamn alluring.

I don't look away because what kind of man would I be if I refused a challenge? Scottie dancing on top of me is like my own personal trial into heaven. If I fall for the temptation, I'll go straight to hell.

My lazy gaze falls to her breasts spilling out from her dark bra, and I have the sudden urge to rip that fake hair off her head to see her blonde locks. Shit. I force myself to picture her boss at his desk with his hand in his pants so I can keep my dick under control. I silently remind myself of how backstabbing this little sexy thing can be and get on with the real reason I'm here.

"Tell me why you need money." It's not a question, and I expect an answer.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here?" she refutes, swaying with the music. The low lights paint her in seductive shadows, accentuating the dips and valleys of her curves, and I can't stop staring.

I grind my teeth together. "As soon as you tell me why you need money."

Scottie stops moving for a second, and my heart skips a beat. "That wasn't the deal."

I lean farther back into my seat, and it accidentally brings her in closer.

Oops.

My hands land on her hips out of reaction. I peer up at her and force the words out. "Turn around."

She wants to refuse. There's a streak of defiance in her that I want to stroke in the worst way, but instead of telling me no, she follows my command, and I really fucking hate that it turns me on.

I tip my head backward after one quick glimpse of her ass. The panties are cut in the right spot, and the curve of her cheeks makes my hands tingle.

"Do you need money because of that guy last night?"

Scottie pauses for a quick second before swaying with the music again.

I reach up and give her red wig a little tug, and she sends me a death glare over her shoulder. I smirk. "You've seen me play hockey… I refuse to lose. So answer my question."

Scottie's ribs expand with a heavy breath right before she takes off her wig and drops it to the floor. She sends her blonde waves tumbling down her back with a tip of her head. My stomach tenses when she erases the space between us and sits on my semi-hard dick, rubbing herself over me.

I should tell her to stop.

I should just take her by the hand and walk us both out of this establishment because there's no way she'll pick working as a stripper after I present her my deal, but damn, I don't want her to stop.

I'm having too much fun with this little game I'm playing, and it's been way too long since I've had my dick in a woman. My hand gets the job done, but it's hard to remember that with her like this.

"I need money for a lot of reasons," she finally answers. "Now tell me what you want and why you're forcing me to give you a lap dance."

I snort. "I'm not forcing you to do anything. My hands aren't even on you."

In fact, they're behind my head as I relax into the chair and let her do her thing. It feels a little degrading to make her dance instead of just laying out my plans before both of us head out the front door, but I can't let her off that easy.

Not after she tried to force me into giving her money.

Scottie spins with the change of the song and peers at me through thick eyelashes surrounding her pretty blue eyes. Her lip disappears behind her teeth, and I want to smear the red lipstick off her lips in the worst way, because as sexy as she is like this, I liked her better with hardly any makeup on and wearing a faded Blue Devils sweatshirt.

I tip my chin and stare right into her eyes. My hands slowly come out from behind my head, and I rest them on her waist. Hers land on my shoulders and eventually move to my nape where she grabs the short ends of my hair.

My fingers dig into her bare belly as the words leave my mouth. "Marry me."

Scottie freezes. Her eyebrows furrow, and there's a faint popping sound from her lip slipping out from behind her teeth.

It only takes a few seconds for her entire body to stiffen. The pretty blue color of her eyes hardens to ice, and she snarls. "Are you kidding? Is this some type of payback?"

Her warm breath fans against my face with her angry scoff. I grip her harder and pull her in close. "Sit," I demand.

"No."

Why is that word so enticing coming from her mouth? Her defiance is a temptation like no other.

I force her into my lap, and I'm prepared for her to either scream or slap me, but I rush the words out before she can do anything. "I'm not kidding. Just hear me out, Scottie. You at least owe me that."

I watch her delicate shoulders loosen, and she scoots forward over my dick, erasing most of the space between us. Her fingers dig into my hair again, and she pulls harder. "Fine. But I will bite you if you're just fucking with me, Olson."

A chuckle flies out of my mouth. "Keep moving over me, or your ex-boss isn't going to get off to our little show."

" Ex -boss?" she asks, grinding over me a little faster.

My attention falls to the emptiness between us, and there's a part of me that wonders if she's as turned on as I am. I won't admit it out loud, because there is a deep-rooted part of me that hates her, but apparently, there's a very fine line between hate and lust.

I make my way back to her face and keep a hold of her stare. "If you're going to be my wife, you will not be working here."

"Who said I'm going to be your wife?" she scoffs lightly, pulling on the ends of my hair again.

My fingers retaliate, and I squeeze her hips. "Your desperation. You need money. I need a wife. So, I'm here to make a deal."

Scottie leans down and moves to the side of my neck, still putting on her little show. Her mouth moves to my ear. "Why do you need a wife?"

"To stop all the bullshit rumors," I answer, staring directly at the doorknob, praying her boss will walk in here so I'm forced to stop this little cat-and-mouse game we're playing. "I need someone to help fix my reputation. If I have a wife, and some elaborate backstory of our life and relationship, then it'll stop all the gossip and the never-fucking-ending women making rumors up to get money out of me."

Scottie pulls back immediately because I've obviously struck a chord. I meant to, hoping it'll remind her of the entire reason we're in this situation to begin with.

"You think a stripper from the Cat House marrying you is the end-all, be-all?" Her confusion is valid.

I shake my head. "I think a woman who gives out coats to the homeless late at night who fell in love with a hotheaded guy like me and waited until I finished college and reached my dreams is."

Of course I've already worked out half of our backstory.

If I want this to work, I have to be prepared to see it through.

Surprise flickers across her features. "How do you know?—"

I cut her off. "It's not important. Yes or no, Scottie?"

I've gotta admit, this is probably the most romantic way anyone has ever asked a woman to marry them. A forced lap dance in a strip club, with a prenup, NDA, and a contract waiting to be signed in my car.

What can I say?

I'm a romantic at heart.