My legs push me to standing, and before I realize what I’m doing, they carry me toward the stage.
She pushes up to her knees, legs wide, and her hands glide up over her breasts, squeezing them gently before she moves them to around her neck, and with a flick of her wrist, her top is gone. Adrenaline fires through my veins; lust and the need to pop the eyes from every man in the room battle for dominance.
She drops into a wide split, the globes of her tanned ass in the faces of the entire front row. The song goes on at an erotic pace and sings about swerving on a surfboard. She mimics the motion of sex, her knee cocked as she rolls her hips in waves and grinds down on nothing beneath her.
For a split and selfish second, I imagine this is all for me. I take my head to a place where everything she does is for me and only for me. Where her body and all she has to offer she gives freely to the one man she can trust with it.
Me.
Warmth explodes in my chest.
She inches her gorgeous ass toward the edge of the stage, and hands come at her from every direction. I jerk from my fantasy and blink away the fog of lust as patrons shove as many bills as they can fit into the tiny strings of fabric that cover her most private places.
Rage, hot and welcome, fires beneath my skin. I move, grab the first body that stands between my woman and me, and toss it away. One by one, I pick them off like ants, grabbing the backs of their shirts, flinging them aside to get to her, and making a path that will get my arms around her to protect her from these lecherous animals that can’t keep their fucking hands to themselves.
The murmur of chaos explodes around me, but I ignore it. Fists pound at my back and arms, but it’s static compared to the drive to get to Trix.
Her head jerks around, eyes wide, mouth agape. “Mason?”
I can hardly hear her over the commotion, but I’m so transfixed on her face I read her lips. In one long stride, I’m on stage. I scoop her into my arms.
“Put me down!” She kicks her legs, but it only makes me squeeze her tighter to me.
“No.”
“Mason, please.” Her words are rushed and panicked. “I can walk, just . . . trust me. You need to put me down.”
“No fucking way.” I carry her back toward the curtain only to be met by Santos, who’s grinning and cracking his knuckles.
He tilts his head. “Hands off her.”
“Okay, never mind.” Trix’s arms tighten around my neck. “Don’t put me down. Do not put me down.”
She’s safe backstage and away from prying eyes. “It’s okay.” I kiss the top of her head.
“No, Mason. Don’t.” Her hold gets tight, but gravity wins, and her legs drop to the floor. “Oh shit. You shouldn’t have done that.”
Her mumbled words are the last thing I hear before Santos hauls back and knocks me in the jaw.
Pain splinters through my face, and I brace my weight on my knees. “Motherfuck!”
“Santos! You’re such a bully!” Trix drops down to her knees to see my face, concern pinching her pretty forehead. “Oh my God, are you okay?” She grimaces and sucks air through her teeth. “I was trying to warn you.”
“Dammit to fuck, that hurt.” I rub my jaw and stand up to see a very satisfied Santos.
“Don’t look at me.” He shrugs. “House rules, man.”
Trix pops her hands on her hips, glaring. “Great. And now they’re going to ban you!” She throws her arms out to her sides, her breasts bouncing with the force of it, totally unaware that she’s practically bare-ass naked. “What were you thinking?”
I run a hand through my hair and breathe through the letdown of adrenaline. God, I stormed up on that stage like a damn Neanderthal. “I don’t . . . I’m sorry.”
She steps in close and peers up at me, her violet eyes searching mine. She’s so tiny now; barefoot, she only comes up to my chest. “You can’t do that. I could lose my job.”
The corner of my mouth lifts as I try to fight off the joy at the prospect of her no longer stripping. I rub the back of my neck and shrug. “Would that be so bad?”
She thwacks me in the stomach. “Stop it!”
“Put a shirt on. And some pants and . . . maybe I’ll think about it.”
Her eyes widen, but a contagious grin curls her lips.
“Come on, man.” Santos throws a big meaty thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta escort you out.”
“Santos, can you give us a second?” Trix turns her pleading eyes toward him, and his expression softens. “Pleeeaaase?” She turns out her lower lip, and the guy is a goner. What guy wouldn’t be?
“Fine. Five minutes, Trix.” He points a finger at me then two fingers at his own eyes. “I’m watching you.”
“Creepy.”
Trix grabs my hand and pulls me deeper backstage into a dark corner. It’s hard to focus on anything other than her perfect naked body.
“Here.” I reach behind me and pull my T-shirt over my head, leaving me in my undershirt. Shaking it out, I put it over her and smile as her glaring face pops through the neck hole.