In Between Her Legs.

Chapter Nineteen: Secrets and Surrender

I needed this.

A night out. A distraction.

Anything to keep my mind off Damien Sinclair and the way he’s twisted himself into every part of me my body, my thoughts, my life.

The club is packed, pulsing with energy, the bass vibrating through my veins as I slide into the booth with my friends, a cocktail in my hand, a forced smile on my lips.

It’s been too long since we’ve done this. Too long since I let loose.

But even now, I can’t stop thinking about him.

I take a sip of my drink, forcing myself to focus as my best friend, Naomi, leans in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Okay," she says, pointing at me. "You’ve been weirdly quiet all night. Spill."

I blink. "Spill what?"

She narrows her eyes. "Oh, don’t play dumb. Something’s up with you."

"Yeah," Sasha chimes in, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder. "You’ve been walking around like you’ve got a serious secret." She smirks. "And judging by the way your legs are crossed, I’d bet money that secret has something to do with sex."

I choke on my drink. "What? No!"

"Uh-huh." Naomi snatches my cocktail away, setting it aside like I can’t be trusted with it. "Selena, babe. We know you. You’re glowing."

Sasha grins. "Yeah, like someone’s been wrecking you in the best way possible."

My face heats.

I look away, trying to play it off, but Naomi isn’t having it. "Who is he?"

"There’s no"

"Selena," she warns, raising a brow.

I sigh, pressing my fingers to my temple. "It’s… complicated."

Naomi and Sasha exchange a knowing look.

"Oh, it’s always complicated," Sasha says, sipping her drink. "But it’s never boring."

"Fine." I exhale. "There’s… a guy. He’s just he’s different."

Naomi leans in. "Different how?"

I hesitate. How do I even begin to explain Damien Sinclair?

How do I tell them that he’s not just some guy?

That he’s intense, possessive, dangerous in the way he owns every inch of me without even trying?

That he doesn’t just touch me he consumes me?

I shake my head, forcing a laugh. "It’s nothing serious. Just… something I’m figuring out."

Sasha raises a brow. "That’s vague as hell."

"It’s fine," I insist. "Really."

Naomi eyes me like she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. "So, if it’s fine, why do you look like you’re about to burst into flames?"

I open my mouth to argue

But that’s when the strippers come in.

Distraction, Served on a Silver Platter

The club erupts as the lights dim, the speakers blasting a pulsing, sultry beat.

And then

The men step out.

Tall, sculpted, oiled-up in all the right places, their grins wicked as they prowl toward the tables, already eyeing the eager women waiting to be entertained.

Naomi squeals, clapping her hands. "Oh my God, yes!"

Sasha laughs, nudging me. "See? This is exactly what you need. A little fun, a little eye candy."

I force a smile, but my stomach twists.

Because all I can think about is Damien.

His body. His hands. The way he devours me with a single look.

And suddenly this isn’t fun.

It’s a reminder.

A reminder that even here, surrounded by half-naked men literally dancing for my attention

I still only want one.

The wrong one.

Naomi is already getting into it, giggling as a stripper with dark eyes and a perfect body straddles her lap, grinding to the beat.

Sasha gets pulled onto the dance floor by another one, laughing as she moves with him, her hands splayed over his sculpted abs.

And me?

I just sit there, watching.

Waiting.

For what, I don’t know.

Until

"Not having fun?"

A smooth, deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I glance up and find one of the strippers standing in front of me, a slow, knowing smirk on his lips.

He’s gorgeous. Objectively perfect.

Broad shoulders. A lean, muscular frame. A cocky, playful glint in his eyes as he watches me like he’s already won something.

But he hasn’t.

Because all I can think about is Damien.

I shake my head, forcing a smile. "Just… distracted."

His smirk deepens. "Well, that’s what I’m here for, sweetheart."

He steps closer, too close, his fingers skimming down my arm.

I flinch.

"Not tonight," I murmur, shifting back.

He tilts his head, studying me. "You sure? You look like you could use a little"

"She’s sure."

The voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I turn

And my heart stops.

Because standing right there, just beyond the flashing club lights, just close enough to remind me exactly who I belong to

Is Damien Sinclair.

Dark suit. Piercing gaze. Complete and utter control.

His expression is unreadable, but his eyes?

Lethal.

The stripper follows my gaze, his smirk faltering as he steps back.

Smart man.

But I can barely process it because Damien is here.

Watching.

Waiting.

And suddenly, my lungs forget how to work.

Because I don’t know if he’s here to punish me

Or to remind me why I never should have left his bed.