“No, they don’t,” she says, her voice wistful. “But I’ve already seen the biggest monster, the one at the center of the maze. There is nothing Ivan could do as bad as that.”
I shiver at the certainty in her voice. There are men that would take that as a challenge.
The balcony is dark and still—and empty. It’s just a feeling more than a visual cue. He’s gone now, but he was there before. Watching. Listening.
Waiting.
The front double door opens, leaving a tall, broad man in silhouette. I know the shape of him intimately. I’ve traced his whole body with my hands. Blue.
He crosses the room quickly and takes me in his arms. “Need more time?”
I glance back at Candy, still sitting on the stage. For a second she looks almost forlorn. Then her usual smile slides into place, sunny and sardonic all at once. “Don’t let me keep you.”
Guilt tugs at me for leaving her behind. “Come with me.”
Her smile is faint. “I belong here. You, on the other hand, have a whole life waiting for you.”
My heart clenches, because I thought I belonged here once too. I thought my life was wrapped around a pole, clad in red lace, with only the heavy beat of a song to carry me forward. Now I have something else to wrap around, something else to cover and carry me.
Blue’s body is warm and solid next to mine. I lean into him, turning my face toward him to catch his scent. “Let’s go,” I whisper.
His lips are gentle on my forehead. He guides me away, out of the dark, into the golden afternoon light. I’m blinded by it, but I don’t slow down. I know he can see, and I’m content to let him lead. More than content, I’m happy in my surrender. Forever fulfilled in the calloused hands that will hold me and hurt me, calm me and keep me, love me and never let me leave.
The End
Thank You
Thank you for reading Better When It Hurts! I hope you loved Lola & Blue’s story.
? The next book in the Stripped series is about Candy and Ivan. It will release this fall, and you can sign up for my newsletter at skyewarren.com/newsletter to get notified when it does.
? You can discuss this book in my Facebook group for fans: Skye Warren’s Dark Room
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? The Stripped series is dark, dangerous, and sexy. If you loved this, you will probably also love Rough, the first book in the gritty Chicago Underground series. Turn the page to read an excerpt…
Excerpt from Rough
There’s a certain sultry walk a woman has when she’s bare that can’t be faked. No hose and no panties. The nakedness under my skirt was as much about keeping me aroused as it was about easy access.
I’d perfected the art of fuck-me clothes. A surprising number of men asked me out, even at a grungy club on a Saturday night. Cute little college girl, they thought, out for a good time. I saved us all time by dressing my part.
Tonight’s ensemble consisted of a tight halter and short skirt with cheap, high-heeled sandals, bouncing hair, and bloodred toenails. The scornful looks of the other women didn’t escape me, but I wasn’t so different from them. I wanted to be desired, held, touched. The groping fingers might be a cheap imitation of intimacy, its patina cracked with rust and likely to turn my skin green, but they were all I deserved.
My gaze panned to the man at the bar, the one I’d been watching all night. He nursed a beer, his profile harsh against the fluid backdrop of writhing bodies. His gray T-shirt hung loose on his abs but snug around thick arms, covering part of his tattoo.
Dark eyes tracked me the way mine tracked him.
His expression was unreadable, but I knew what he wanted. What else was there?
He was hot in a scary way, and that was perfect. Not that I was discerning. I needed sex, not a life partner. There were plenty of men here, men whose blackened pasts matched my own, who’d give it to me hard.
A woman approached him. Something dark and decidedly feminine roiled up inside me.
She was gorgeous. If he wanted to score, he probably couldn’t do better, even with me.
I tried not to stare. She walked away a minute later—rejected. I felt unaccountably smug. Which was stupid, since I didn’t have him either. Maybe no one had a chance with this guy. I was pretty enough, in a girl-next-door kind of way. Common, though, underneath my slutty trappings—brown hair and brown eyes were standard issue around here.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I glanced up to see a cute guy wearing a sharp dress shirt checking me out. Probably an investment banker or something upstanding like that. Grinning and hopeful. Had I ever been that young? No, I was probably younger. At nineteen I had seen it all. The world had already crumbled around me and been rebuilt, brick by brick.
“Sorry, man,” I said. “Keep moving.”