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His eyes rose, as did his temper. “Like hell you are!”

Sara could not let the control she had in her hand
slip from grasp. “Lace is going to allow me one of her times in the room, too.”

His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. “Lace doesn’t make
those decisions for my club.”

Sara kept going before she lost her nerve. “And she
informed me if you fought it, she would quit. Then you would be stuck with no
dancer for Friday night and a lot of unhappy customers.”

Their biggest night for high-profile big spenders was
the Friday after payday. Griffen would lose tens of thousands if Lace quit.

Casey rose to his feet, the fury in his eyes unhidden.
“She said this, did she?”

He was giving her ample warning to correct her
statement, but Sara was having none of it. She nodded, calling the man’s bluff.

“Not more than five minutes ago. Right before she
left.”

They only way he could ask Lace would be by cell
phone. However, Sara had planned for this. She’d slipped Lace’s cell phone out
of her roommate’s purse before Lace left for home. The phone was now in Sara’s
possession. She would give it back to Lace in a few hours. For now, it was her
ace in the hole to get this man to agree to her unrealistic demands.

While she waited for the expected explosion, Sara
thought of her past life. The bi-polar mother she’d buried in a church
cemetery; a joke in and of itself. The married lover who’d shamed her into a
regrettable disappearing act. The lost child from that man…a child she was glad
she’d lost, knowing it then had the chance to be in Heaven before its mother
given the opportunity to screw it up.

All of this kept her gaze firm and unwavering,
determination fueling her thoughts and actions.

Lace said nothing of the kind about sharing one of her
times, but if Sara could keep her gaze locked and steady, Casey would never
find out he was being lied to.

Sara wanted one night where the man in front of her
would die without having her. At this point, she did not care if she knew the
man’s name. The only thing mattering was his interest and desires put fully
onto her, and not on anyone else.

When the customers came into the club, this was all
they ever asked for—one sultry, incognito night. They wanted to leave the club
hot, sweaty, sex-starved and fully entertained by one of Griffen’s dancers who
could get them with a hard-on, panting, yet without any physical touch to
achieve the goal.

Somehow, this thought must have been in her eyes,
because Casey took hold of Sara’s control and nearly ripped it out of her hand
by fury alone.

“The only pole dance you will be doing for any man
will be for me! And until I say you are ready, you will not go anywhere near
the private rooms. Do I make myself clear?”

Sara’s eyes widened.

Did he just…?

He wanted her to dance…for him?

Casey added more, to make it clearer. “Yes, Mecenna.”
A sudden flare of his nostrils released the tremendous tension out of his face.
“I want your first dance to be for me.”

Sara was too shocked to argue otherwise. So, he
finally could come clean with his desires? Well, wonders never ceased.

“Don’t look so smug, Mecenna…because the more you push
me on this, the longer that day will come for you.”

She gave her boss a huge smile. Not for what he wanted
it for, but for what she would be getting out of it. She did not speak; merely
nodded, backed away, and cautiously walked out the door. Once she closed the
panel—paycheck in hand—Sara could hear the loud curse and tossing of a whiskey
glass from his desk. The glass hit the back of the door and sounded as if it
had shattered.

His temper made her smile, even more. Mr.
Know-it-all,
Mr.
High and Mighty
finally cracked, and she, the one who cracked
his hardened shell. But this was a crack not likely fixable for the foreseeable
future and Sara was running out of time.

Chapter Five

W
hen a woman
cracks open the shell of man, who has fought tooth and nail for any crack never
to happen, odds are damaging acid will drip from the wound. Acid that could
burn deep.

The deeper it burned, the harder it was to heal.

Casey was fighting Sara tooth and nail on the deal
he’d made her—one night, one dance, all for him. He’d said nothing more about
it, and she did not push him—as he’d asked.

Thankfully, Sara knew when to burn her candles at both
ends, and when to blow them out. Simple enough, the timing hadn’t been right.

But it was four weeks ago when the offer was made. The
only time Casey would even look at her now was when he handed her a paycheck.
Otherwise, it was a quick glance, an even quicker turn of the head, and
definitely not much in the way of conversation. She would leave the club when
her shift done. He wouldn’t stay any longer than necessary to avoid
confrontation with her.

Therefore, it was a huge surprise when he suddenly
walked right up to the bar and ordered a drink from her, and not one of his
other bartenders.

Sara made Casey a dry scotch. Not his preference, but
then he hadn’t said what he really wanted, so how was she to know. He said
something stiff…and cold. Five ice cubes should have been cold enough for the
man. Sara put six in the glass. She hadn’t dared comment stiff was not his
pecker and cold was the degree of her patience—though this very thing on her
mind for weeks.

Casey grabbed the drink from her fingers, downed it,
and gave her a wry smile. He plunked the glass back onto his bar, then walked
back to his office, head held high.

Sara’s eyes glued to his scrumptious backside. When he
turned so swiftly, she had to check her body’s reaction to what her sordid
thoughts had been. She was physically dying to see Mr. Griffen’s naked
backside. She couldn’t help it that she had a huge thing for a man’s ass. The
more muscle, the more interested she was, and the more her fingers pulsated
with dangerous desire to touch every square inch of it until consumed by need.

Her eyes moved slowly to his. Casey pointed to her,
then to his office, then to his watch. This meant, without words, get into his
office—immediately.

Sara bit down on her lower lip, turned her head to her
other bartender, told the woman she would be back—potentially soon—and moved
toward the boss’s direction.

He’d already gone inside the room.

He was seated behind his desk when she entered the
lion’s domain.

“Close the door,” he ordered.

It was most unusual for the boss to call a bartender
from the masses on a Friday night for a quick conversation inside his office.
Generally, he would wait until after closing to tell the girls what he wanted
of them, or yell if they’d done something they were not supposed to do.

Lace got the first of many reprimands from him last
night. She let one of her customers touch her. The rules clearly stated, to all
their
guests,
touching was not allowed. A man could look all he
wanted—but he wasn’t to touch unless truly desiring physical escort to the
door.

None of his girls were to be touched by sex-starved
assholes with too much money in their pockets and hardened dicks in their
pants.

He’d soundproofed the private rooms for a reason. The
groans and moans were to stay inside those four walls. He’d installed the safe
button for his higher-priced strippers. He knew what could happen. Sometimes it
did.

Lace was lucky she’d gotten to the button. Things
could have been much worse for her had the creep pinned her to the opposite
wall, away from the safety mechanism.

She’d left the building in tears after the lecture
given her last night. And not much ever gets to Lace to make her cry. Mr.
Griffen accomplished what others could not.

Sara cautiously closed the door, knowing she hadn’t
done anything wrong for a closed-door meeting in the middle of the Friday rush,
or a potential tear-stained face.

It took her boss a few minutes to start the
conversation. In all those minutes, he merely stared, making her extremely
uncomfortable by the unnatural silence.

She became even more uncomfortable when he asked, with
meaning, “When was your last period?”

His eyes waited for her answer.

Sara could see his jaw was clenched tight. “My…
what
?”

Casey’s blue eyes hardened in on her faster than
expected. “You heard me.”

“Um…yes. But I’m not quite sure what it should matter
to you,” she reasoned.

Those hardened eyes narrowed into thin slits. “It just
does.”

“My menses is none of your fucking business, Mr.
Griffen.”

He glared, as if Sara being inside his office during
regular hours was her fault and not his. That nasty glare turned swiftly into a
sinful smile. “Well, if you do not remember…I will tell you when it was.”

“You’ll
what
?”

The shock on her face must have been comical, for he
seemed all the more amused by her reaction.

“You had your period eight days ago.”

Sara put her hands on her hips. “Where, exactly, is this
conversation headed?”

Casey wouldn’t deter from his thoughts, however. And
the sudden smile on his lips stated he didn’t give rat’s ass about her startled
fury.

 “Twelve days ago you were a real bitch.”

“And?” she recklessly snapped at his face.

 “In another two days you are going to be as horny as
hell,” he continued.

Sara felt like smacking this man over the head with a
huge brick. “And?” she baited.

“And…in two days…you are going to dance for me.”

When his words finally sunk in, Sara nearly jumped for
joy. A whole month…
and he was finally going to let her use the pole!
Then
the words sunk more fully into her brain and her joy dissipated in a hurried
rush. He’d said…
for me.
Not for paying customers.

“And if I say no?” she bargained against.

He was only allowing her the opportunity because of
one reason, and one reason only. Her menstrual cycle, the days she would be at
her best form. For what? The view she would certainly give him. Because it sure
as hell would not be for another finger fuck he’d likely punish her with if she
pushed him too far.

His brow furrowed as if he could read her every
thought, making her knees weak. “You won’t say no to me, Mecenna,” he said, his
voice a lowered rasp.

“Oh, really?” Now who is pushing whom?

Casey nodded. His blue eyes found hers and they held a
ton of mischief within their depths. “Yes. Really. Two days, Sunday night, no
other time, no other offer. Take it or leave it, Mecenna. Like I’ve said
before…you’ll dance for me first before I ever let you dance for any other
man.”

Sara’s voice caught in her throat as she tried to
whisper out, “Why?”

Her brain couldn’t process much of what had come out
of his mouth, to any certain degree of coherency. In fact, Sara’s brain was
stuck on the fact Sunday the club was closed. The two of them would be here
alone. She’d have no one to protect her against this man if things got out of
control…or complicated.

Perhaps this was the point of the sudden request.
Neither wanted protection from the other, but both desired it more than life
itself.

His face a stoic mask, his next words were even
colder. “You wanted one night, Mecenna. Sunday is the only night I will allow
you into that room.”

Sara licked her bottom lip. She weighed out the pros
and cons. There were certainly more cons than pros with his offer, but if she
said no, she knew the offer would never come again. And damnit! She needed the
money.

“Fine. Sunday night. All rules apply.” This meant he
was not to touch her in any way, shape, or form…unless given permission.

“This is my club, Mecenna. I make the rules. Not you.”

“Not this time, Griffen,” Sara threatened.

In point, it was Casey who now had to weigh out the
pros from the cons while Sara watched his face as he put thought through his
head. Sunday night, with her in fittest form, would certainly be a definite pro
to the man.

“Fine. Agreed. No touching and all rules apply.”

Sara held out her hand to Casey to shake on their
deal, but he did not take her offered hand. He rounded his desk and pulled her
in his arms by his unbroken wrist to settle her pelvis against his large
arousal. The next words out of his mouth shocked her even more.

“See what happens every time you come inside here?” He
lowered his eyes to the front of his jeans.

Sara looked down there as well. When her gaze returned
to his face, his mouth descended and with no time to react she simply let the
kiss happen.

It was a quick kiss, a hard kiss—a brandishing kiss,
nevertheless, the kiss passionate that left her visibly shaken as he eased
away.

Two seconds later, he was back to all business. “Don’t
you have a shift to do?”

Sara put her fingers to her mouth. She could taste
Casey’s drank scotch on her tongue. All she could do was nod her head.

“Then shouldn’t you be doing it?”

It never took a boss to ask an employee twice. Sara
nearly ran from the room.

For the remainder of her night and well into the next,
she couldn’t think of anything else, but of what he would get from her—body and
soul—come Sunday night.

****

Lace was the first to make her feel guilty about
Sunday night. And
Sara hadn’t even done anything to feel guilty—yet.

“And why are we trying to perfect something you so
obviously will never achieve?” Lace threw at Sara, her tone crisp.

Lace was still smarting over the wretched lecture
their boss gave her because of one lousy mistake by an all-hands, hard dick
customer. And that roommate was now taking it out on anyone within her sight, namely
Sara.

Again, Sara’s ass hit the floor. Perhaps if she did
not try to jut out her leg and did something completely different from Lace, it
would work to her favor. Her next move only made things worse. She nearly hurt
herself.

Sara dropped to the floor and snapped her thoughts
quite viciously at her roommate. “You’re not helping me, Lace…by criticizing
me.”

“Fine. I am not helping you at all.” Lace disappeared
off the stage.

PMS was more pronounced in some, than others. Pissed,
money-hungry stripper, that was.

Sara would have to learn on her own. She had half a
day to do so, because in less than eight hours, Casey expected her to pole
dance for him. How the bloody hell she’d be able to do this, prove herself
worthy of a back room, and gain access to where all the money was made, if she
could not stay on the pole longer than ten seconds, was beyond thought.

The sound of pealed tires informed her Lace had truly
abandoned her in her hour of need.

Her mind intent on doing a routine cued to music, she
set the stereo system to a melody of hard beat, bass-induced thumping. Rhythmic
sounds—primal, and with just the right punch.

Sara hadn’t been aware of his presence until the song
ended; saw his shadow much too late to do anything about it and she slipped to
the floor.

The man of the hour was standing at the bottom of the
stage, watching her. He had on faded blue jeans, a pale gray T-shirt, and an
easy smile. His feet were bared.

He jumped on the stage and actually helped her to get
back onto the pole.

She glanced once at his bared feet, smiled, then her
smile faded. Casey had put his hands on her waist and his gentle touch sent
shockwaves throughout her entire body. His breath, as it fanned over her left
shoulder, while he guided her palms higher onto the metal in near slow motion,
sent bolts of electricity throughout her system. His eyes, as the blue darkened
into a shade of the deepest sea, caused her to slip off the pole and directly into
his arms.

“Try again,” he said, his strong voice with a catch in
it.

Again, his hands found her waist, lifting her off the
floor. This helped Sara to wrap her one leg around the metal and steady her
center of gravity.

A soft brush of air went over her lips as his mouth
moved forward and he whispered, “We have all night to teach you how to do this
the right way.”

His mouth then caught up to hers as Sara remained on
the pole.

Casey kissed her until he left her breathless. She
never knew her feet found the floor until he maneuvered her into his arms,
turned her body to his, and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth, farther
than before.

Sara did not want this kiss to end. The sudden ache
growing inside of her felt great, and its need wouldn’t be satisfied by mere
kiss alone. If she ruined the dance and her one and only chance at access to
the private room, at least she would have this as compensation to her loss.