Dangerous Desires

Chapter 3

CHARLOTTE's POV

What am I doing? I don't dance with customers. I haven't danced with anyone in more than five years.

I don't even know this man's name, but his hard thigh is between mine and our bodies are moving together like we've been doing this for years, not seconds. One of his hands is pressed against the top of my ass, holding my body close to him. The other is on my nape.

It's a possessive, dominant hold and my ovaries are exploding.

It's wild. Unbelievable. And irresistible.

Since Liam, I don't date. I don't let men get close.

Suddenly, my body is telling me how starved it is for touch. My inner s*x kitten that has been hiding my whole darn life comes out to play.Dio mio. She wants to rub against his thigh and push my breasts against the hard plains of his torso.

He reads my mind and his leg shifts so he's making my dress ride up my thighs. If I don't get a hold of myself soon, I'm going to be dancing with my thong exposed and the round globes of my butt along with it.

I can't get that inner s*x kitten to care. She wants this. She craves it.

He leans down and nips at my earlobe. "Tell me you have a storage room we can go to."

"I…" I try to shake my head to clear it, but he's kissing a spot under my ear that has my V*gina clamoring for more.

Somehow, I find myself leading him through the club and to the right of the bar, down the hall and to a nondescript door. I press the unlock code into the keypad and the heavy steel door clicks open. He reaches around me and yanks it so he can push me through.

The lights go on, revealing the stairs. He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time.

I laugh breathlessly and push myself up so my soft stomach isn't bouncing on his hard muscles with every step. "Take a right at the top."

These rooms were used for storage, but I renovated the area into a small, one-bedroom apartment when I started Tocandel Club.

Living here makes sense financially, but right now all I care about is that my bed is only two doorways away.

He stops in front of the entrance to my place and lets my body slide to the floor in front of him. "Get us in,ílios mou."

"My name is Charlotte."

"You burn hot like the sun. You are myílios."

His sun?Isn't it enough he has a body to die for and his voice sounds like s*x? Does he have to be charming as well?

"What language is that?"

"Greek, like my family," he growls in a deep, sexy tone that goes straight to my core.

My fingers slip and it takes two tries to get the code into the keypad and my apartment door unlocked. I don't remember ever being this hot. Desire runs through my veins like lava.

Is it because it's been so long since I had s*x? I'm not like this though. My V*gina keeps clenching and it feels empty.

Sex is fun, but it's not necessary.

At least that's what I've told myself for the past five years. It's how I thought of it before my husband was killed in the war over territory in Tucson. I don't want to think about Liam right now, or my life before I came to Florida.

I am a new woman and apparently my body got the memo. Because I want this man who uses Greek endearments and makes my heart race in my chest. Enough to leave the club in the hands of my employees and bring him into my personal sanctuary.

I don't bring strange men home. I don't bring men home at all. I don't even invite my friends over, but this man? I want him here. In my bed.

Is it because I'm finally realizing my dreams? Have my body and mind slipped the tight leash of relentless work and effort of the last five years?

He shoves the door open and pushes me inside. His roughness doesn't make me nervous. It turns me on. But then I was once married to a mafia soldier. Normal men don't scare me.

This one though. He is something else. He wouldn't even be intimidated by the don.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you like that dress?"

"Yes."

"Then take it off before I rip it from your body." There is no teasing in his blue gaze, merely intent.

I'm so freakin' aroused right now. My panties are soaked, and I can feel slick wetness where my thighs rub together.

Reaching behind me, I undo the zip and then pull the dress off, leaving me in the red lace panties and matching bra I never expected anyone else to ever see. Lingerie has been a private indulgence since I ran from Arizona with my brother-in-law. The single reminder that I am still a woman, not just a nightclub owner earning money to support the last living member of my family.

Those blue eyes heat, burning over my body like a physical touch. "You are f*****g beautiful."

I feel beautiful with his gaze on me. Sexy.

"Your turn."

His shirt is unbuttoned, giving me a glimpse of his sculpted chest, but that's as far as he's gotten. Shrugging out of his shirt, he reveals the rest of the chiseled perfection of his arms and chest. He has tattoos. Lots and lots of tattoos.

His right arm has a full sleeve of monochromatic images inked into his skin. A snarling three headed dog guards his heart. Under it is something written in Greek letters.

I had no idea I found body art such a turn on. Does he have ink on his back?

Wanting to know, I ask, "Can I see your back?"

He gives me a smoldering glance and then turns around. His entire back is covered with a tattoo so detailed, it looks real. A Spartan warrior stands victorious over a dead bear with a sword sticking out of it and rivulets of blood running from the wound.

The blood looks wet; the warrior's muscles almost ripple.

Unable to stop myself, I step forward, my hand outstretched to touch.

Something about the Spartan feels familiar.

The only facial features showing behind the Corinthian helmet are the warrior's eyes, mouth and chin. The eyes are the same blue as the man on whose back I'm ogling. The lips and jaw are the same shape too.

"It's you," I say.

"Yes."

My fingertips trace the tattoo, and I discover small ridges under the colorful ink. Scars?

What caused them? Are they why he got such a huge piece of artwork on his back? What does the bear symbolize? I'm pretty sure these questions are too intimate to ask a one-night stand. So, I don't.

But I wonder.

The man I am practically drooling over bends to take off his boots, giving me a delicious view of his perfect backside. Okay, there's nothing practically about it. I swipe moisture from my lips with the back of my hand, greedy to see it all.

I wait with bated breath while he undoes his trousers and shoves them, right along with the black knit boxers clinging to his muscular buttocks, down his legs. He turns back around, and I finally suck in air that almost chokes me.

Fully aroused, his p***s juts out and upward with impressive length and girth. He's huge.