Falling for a Bachelor: An Age-Gap Romance

Book 3: The Heat Series

by GEORGIA COFFMAN

Genres: Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; steamy romance; age gap romance; slow burn romance

Synopsis

She deserves a knight in shining armor. Not someone like me…

Leo

I don’t date. I keep myself distracted with work and ensuring everyone else lives their “best life,” as is the popular saying. My needs are the least of my concerns.

Until I come face to face with Bailey after our show.

She pushes my resolve with her soft curves, quick wit, and quirky personality. But Bailey’s too young and innocent for someone like me. Not to mention, she reminds me of the reason I don’t date in the first place.

I have to keep my hands to myself… for both our sakes.

 

Bailey

I thought I’d been in love before, but nothing compares to how I feel about Leo. Or is it simply lust? Either way, I can’t deny the pull between us.

I’m determined to unravel him.

My friends and family warn me against him when they find out Leo’s not only older than me, but he’s also a stripper for Vegas’s hottest show. These are my decisions—and mistakes—to make, though, wherever they may lead me.

Which is right into Leo’s arms. But is our connection enough to overcome the odds stacked against us?

Gambling both of our futures is risky, but perhaps our one night in Vegas can turn into forever.

Release date: May 12, 2021

Sample

Chapter 1

LEO

            “My elbow grew its own tit.”

            I choke on my water and rush to cover my mouth with the back of my hand to keep drops from flying out.

My friend Ty shoves his bent elbow in my face. “Check this shit out.” There’s a small protrusion on his elbow, jutting out like a bead.

Wiping my chin, I cringe. “What the hell is it? Does it hurt?”

“Nah, but it’s weird looking.”

I lower myself onto the bench, talking to him in the mirror. “You should let a doctor examine it. And while you’re at it, have them do something about your knee.”

“My knee’s better, though.” He wiggles it around as though it’s proof enough. “It was just bruised from that fall on stage. Got too into the moves.” He winks at me like I’m one of the women we dance for.

“We should make it our tagline: we’ll risk our lives for you.”

He fist bumps me. “Classic.”

Rolling my eyes, I grab the dumbbells from the floor by my feet, my face red by the time I get into position for overhead shoulder press. It’s a staple exercise for us, and the position is as known to me as my own name.

We’re dancers for Naked Heat, Vegas’s hottest male revue show, which means a six-pack and jacked shoulders come with the territory.

Spit flies out of my mouth with every exhale as I breathe through each rep.

Nine.

Ten.

“Almost there.” Ty stands behind me, holding his hands out, palms up.

Eleven.

Twelve.

“Give me three more,” he coaches, spotting me to make sure the dumbbell doesn’t fall on my head.

In the mirror, I note the veins popping in my neck as I use every bit of energy left to squeeze through the last rep. I drop the weights and grunt, my tired shoulders screaming at me. Leaning against the back of the bench, I inhale a lung full of air as if I just emerged from a burning building.

“My turn.” Ty smacks my sore shoulder, and I wince. “Oops. Sorry, player.”

“You did it on purpose.”

He chuckles. “I wanted to make sure you’re still alive. That set was fucking brutal.”

“Damn right.” I give him the seat and spin in circles, taking in the old dusty gym. This place is practically our second home here in Vegas. For over ten years, this is where we’ve worked out five days a week, unless we’ve been on tour.

I lift my shirt and wipe the sweat from my forehead as Ty uses his knees to raise each dumbbell into position. He presses ten with ease, unlike me. He’s younger than me by almost four years, and he’s also bigger. He used to be the largest of us all until his girlfriend Emma came along.

Instead of working out, she became his new hobby—his words, not mine.

I assist with his last couple reps and stand upright when he’s finished. We switch off again, and by the time we’re finished with this exercise, we’re yelling in each other’s faces. A motivational tactic.

Our shirts are drenched.

We’re on the verge of vomiting.

This is why I prefer working out with Ty alone. When the rest of the guys are here, our workouts are slower and less challenging.

I drink more water and walk with Ty toward the pec deck to finish our workout with rear delts. We weave through women with bright shirts, guys as big and angry as tanks, and rusted machines, which were probably new when my great-grandparents were alive.

The latter is the charm of this place.

We reach the machine and find it vacant. With this many people in here, we never know what we’ll get. We often have to change our workouts to accommodate, but today, the gym gods are smiling down on us—as Sienna, one of my sisters, might say.

Ty tosses his bag down and smacks my shoulder, making me glare at him. “You need a woman.”

“No, I need you to stop hitting my shoulder.”

Like the smartass he is, he hits my side with a fraction of his full strength.

“Much better.” I throw my bag down next to his and place my hands on my hips.

“Come on. What else are you going to do in all your spare time once you leave us?” He gets the bars in place and sits facing the back of the seat. After he sets the weight, he peers at me over his shoulder. “Who are you going to spend your fortune on?”

“I regret ever telling you about my trust fund.” I scratch the back of my head.

He and our other friend Sebastian didn’t know about the money my father left me when he passed. I only told them about it last year because Sebastian needed a swift kick in the nuts—and funds—to quit Naked Heat and open The Martini Inn, a boutique hotel in LA. It was his dream, and I wanted to help.

But I’m paying for it now with Ty’s harassment.

He grows quiet and focuses on the exercise, pulling both handles to the side and back, provoking his muscles. Toward the end of his set, he breathes more and more heavily, which gives me peace from his jabbering.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the bottom of my tank as we switch spots.

He stands to the side, half his shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “I’m just saying—you have the best pick-up line already. ‘Hey, you interested in a good time? Because I’m loaded—in more ways than one.’ Then, you wink and lead the woman back to the fucking Ritz and feed her chocolate-covered strawberries after she sucks—”

Taking a seat, I hold my hands up for him to stop. “Quite the picture you paint, but I’m not interested in a one-night stand. Besides, shouldn’t you be encouraging me to find what you have with Emma? Everlasting love? A lifelong partner?”

“I take it back. There’s your line for the ladies. A permanent, loving boyfriend? They eat that shit up faster than I did those wings at the wing-eating contest. You remember? I set a record.”

“Yes, I wrote about it in my journal.” I roll my eyes and tug at my loose turquoise tank to get some air to my clammy chest.

With a rough exhale, I focus on pulling the weights back, squeezing through the movements.

I grind my teeth, and my heart pounds.

Blood rushes to my muscles.

My body stretches and tightens.

I don’t need to be in the depths of the ocean as a great white shark circles me in order to feel alive. Weightlifting and pushing my body’s limits are enough for me.

This is the perfect kind of adrenaline rush because it’s one I can control. My form and breathing depend on me and only me.

Control makes my world go round.

Ty and I switch places again, and by the end of Ty’s set, his tongue is hanging out like he’s a thirsty dog. He slurps from his water bottle like one too, letting a stream of it fall down his chest.

“Lifelong love is great, and you should have it,” Ty says, panting. Placing his hands on his hips, he stands next to me by the machine. “But you’ve never even had a one-night stand. Or a hookup. Or even a make-out session in the corner of a club with a random hottie with an accent and—”

I hold my hand up, glancing around us. “Again, quite a picture you paint, but I’m not interested in any of that, either.”

“I’ll give you the number of a woman I used to know. She’s got huge tits she used to suck on while we got it on.”

“Jesus,” I hiss. “People can hear you.”

“Who? Everyone’s got music blaring in their headphones.”

I rub my hands down my face. “I don’t fucking want your sloppy seconds, anyway.”

“Why? Jordan had no problem.” He shrugs.

“Jordan also has no standards.” I fight a laugh.

Jordan’s the youngest of Naked Heat, having recently turned twenty-one. He’s bold, spontaneous, and reckless—as most of us were around the same age. But we learned, and he will too.

Ty’s expression changes to something more serious.

“What?” Exasperated, I study him through squinted eyes. I’m usually good at reading him. At voicing what he’s thinking before he’s even realized he’s thinking it at all.

But something’s off here. There’s a confession hiding in the crease of his brow and his tense shoulders.

“All I’m saying is—you’re thirty-two and still single. I’m only trying to hook you up.”

“What’s wrong with being single? Not like I have gray hair already, or something.” I pin him with my glare. “Besides, I remember a time when you swore you’d never settle down. You never cared about my advice to change your ways until you met the right woman.”

He relaxes his stance a fraction.

“Can we get back to the workout now? My heart rate is quickly decreasing, deflating like your dick on stage when you were too lovesick over Emma to do your job.”

“Ouch, man.”

I shrug and smile. “At least you won your girl back, and you’re fucking happy now.”

“Damn right. You still going to help me with the big proposal?”

“Of course. I’m always here to help.”

“And not get laid. Seriously, you provide me and the guys with too many jokes. It’s so easy.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to be celibate if any of the girls I take out would make it to the fifth date.” I almost bite my tongue from clamping my mouth shut so fast, cursing myself for letting that fall out. Ty’s in my damn head.

“What do you mean?”

I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder, moving toward the door.

Fuck the rest of the workout.

I need to get the hell out of here.

I’m tight-lipped about my past and my life outside of Naked Heat for a reason. I don’t need the guys giving me shit over things they don’t understand, but the longer I stay with Ty, the more likely I am to spill my guts like a heartbroken thirteen-year-old girl.

“No, man.” Ty hustles up next to me. “You know every gory detail about all of us, especially Sebastian and me. What gives?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” I say, trying to avoid attracting an audience.

It’s not uncommon to be stopped by women who recognize us from our shows, and I can’t deal with them right now. It’ll be too hard to force a happy façade for them.

“Are you going to talk to me or continue staring into space like a creep?” Ty snaps his fingers in front of my face. “What’s going on with you?”

“Listen, nothing’s going on. There are just a lot of things you and the guys don’t know about me.”

“I gleaned as much.” He scoffs. “Which is why I’m trying to change that.”

I sigh, growing uncomfortable with this conversation in every way, like the discomfort I feel from chafing during a jog. Which is why I don’t jog. “I date women. I went out with one very nice girl several months back. Remember when you and I had to drag Sebastian out of Pete’s bar? I was seeing her.”

Ty throws his hands up in frustration. “That was like a year ago! You’re telling me you haven’t had any action since then?”

“Lower your fucking voice. Even people at the smoothie stand across the street can hear you.” I duck my head behind my hand like I’m hiding from the paparazzi. I’m not used to being on this side of these conversations. On the contrary, I’m normally the one delivering the lectures.

The guys have always needed them. That’s what my past coach and mentor, Darren, did with our old Naked Heat crew, and I took over once he stepped down. He still hosts for us, but other than that, it’s been up to me to keep these wild guys in line.

I don’t enjoy being on the receiving end right now.

“Tell me it isn’t so.” Ty stands in front of me, blocking my escape, and blinks as though I’m telling him I have twelve toes.

“I’ve gone on dates since then.”

“You haven’t gotten your dick wet, though.”

I cringe at the painful truth of his vulgar phrase. “None of them make it to the fifth date. You wouldn’t think it’d be so hard. Hell, it’s one date, two, three—which is when we make out—four, then five. The magic night. It’s simple, yet they don’t make it.”

Ty bursts into laughter, his dark skin glistening under the fluorescent lights. Even his sweat and tattoos seem to be laughing at me.

“I’m going home now.” I brush past him and burst through the door.

Immediately, I’m hit with devilish heat. It’s the middle of July in Vegas, and it feels like the sun is only a mile away.

Ty follows, his laughter slowly subsiding. I don’t make it ten feet before he grabs the strap of my bag and pulls me backward. “No, no, no.” He catches his breath. “Please tell me that’s not your weird rulebook or some shit.”

“It is. Why?”

“You really don’t sleep with women until they go on five dates with you? You even explain this to them?” His laughter is back, but it’s quieter, like a whisper. A mocking whisper, which grates on my every nerve.

“I do.” I nod, clenching my jaw. “They’re fine with it too, until the third date when making out isn’t enough. I mean, women constantly complain about guys only wanting one thing from them. Here I am trying to be reasonable and respectful, but they don’t want to hear of it.” I get lost in my rant, almost forgetting Ty is listening like a moth, which was recently named as having the best hearing in the world.

Something I learned from watching Discovery Channel with Ty. The bastard has his quirks, yet I go along with them all. Why can’t he do the same for me?

“Women are a mystery, no doubt about it, but what about you? You can get any woman you want, but you push them away? I don’t get it.”

I sigh, because he’s right. We do have a never-ending supply of women after us. I used to think it was arrogant, but the truth is, the guys and I ooze sex. Many women can’t resist. They paw at us during each show and know what we’re packing. We don’t get completely naked on stage, but we’re barely covered. It’s enough for them to know.

And they always want more.

After every Naked Heat performance, women come knocking, ready and willing like we’re gods.

It’s been hard to resist them all and live like I do, nearly as celibate as a fucking monk, although the reasons are far from religious.

“I have my reasons,” I tell Ty, walking toward my Jeep. “What time are we meeting Sebastian and the girls tomorrow night? Or are they going straight to the show?”

“Oh no, you don’t. You can’t change the subject. That’s some real conservative shit you laid down, and I need to know what the hell is going on with you.” Ty stands between me and my getaway.

“Not if you want me to help you with your proposal. So, what’s it going to be?”

“That’s cold, brother.” He shakes his head, stepping aside.

Once I’m settled in the driver’s seat of my Jeep, I lean over my open window and quirk my eyebrow, refusing to budge.

“Pick me up. The girls are getting together beforehand and taking one car straight to the show.” He exhales. “Emma will get to town from LA early and come straight over for alone time because I need that ass. I can’t believe you’ve gone a whole year without some pussy, and I can’t even withstand a few days.”

To be honest, I’m surprised he survives with Emma living in LA, but they make it work even from a distance. Even with Ty stripping for a living, something I didn’t think Emma would be able to handle. Some days are harder for them than others, but they’re solid enough to overcome whatever gets between them.

At the end of the day, they do whatever it takes to make it work. Is it so wrong for me to want the same?

“Let me know when I should pick you up,” I tell him. “Your old, beat-up Honda won’t last much longer. Can it even make a trip across town?”

“My Honda could beat your Jeep’s ass any day.” He knocks on the hood, and I pull away, chuckling at how much has changed since we all met. Yet, some things stay the same—like Ty’s arrogance and filthy mind.

I rub my jaw as I pull onto the main road toward my apartment, my mind drifting. All this fucking love in the air lately. It would be nauseating if part of me wasn’t so hopeful.

Hopeful that I’d be so lucky as Sebastian and Ty are.

Sebastian’s a newlywed, and Ty’s proposing this weekend.

It all started with Sebastian well over a year ago, when he first danced with his now-wife Kendall at one of our shows. She was attending her sister’s bachelorette party, and neither could deny the pull between them.

It avalanched from there when Ty met Kendall’s roommate, Emma. Much to everyone’s surprise, Ty fell in love with her. I never thought I’d see the day that Ty would settle down, but I’m happy for him, nonetheless.

Ty’s always been impulsive and careless, but Emma grounds him. They balance each other out like a seesaw. This weekend will be the true test, although I have no doubt she’ll accept his proposal.

Ty may mock my five dates oath I took for myself, but I have it for very good reasons. He should know by now—I always have my reasons.

One day, I won’t have to fall back on the rules. One day, I’ll move on and take a chance.

But not today.

Nor will it be tomorrow or the next day.

Fifteen years is a long time, but it hasn’t been enough for me to trust a woman and forget why I have boundaries to begin with.

And it’ll take the right woman to make me forget.

 

 

Chapter 2

BAILEY

Emma and I merge onto the interstate, taking us away from LA and toward Vegas.

Sin City.

It’ll be my first time visiting. It’s my first trip without my brothers or parents trying to hold my hand every time I cross the street too.

As of this week, I’m officially twenty-one. I can drink and go to Vegas for a little girls’ trip. I can even attend Naked Heat too.

Because I’m an adult, damn it.

“How are you and Mason?” Emma asks, never taking her eyes off the road.

I cringe, even though it’s a fair question.

“When are you going out again?” she continues.

“Um…” I fidget with my hands in my lap. “We’re not.”

Her focus remains on the road, and she keeps her hands at the ten-and-two position. “Why not? You finally went on a date after crushing on him for years, and I thought it went well. You went to the Italian place, right?”

“Yes, and it was nice. I wouldn’t say it went really well, though. It wasn’t what I expected, and—wait, is it weird talking about this with you?” I scrunch my nose. She’s happily with Ty now, but still.

“Bailey.” She checks her mirrors and switches lanes, her posture perfectly straight as she drives while I slouch in the passenger seat. “You can talk about him. Mason and I went on one friendly date almost a year ago. It didn’t even end with a kiss, let alone a sleepover. I think it’s safe for you to talk about him.” She gives me a small smile.

Emma and I have been friends for a couple years, ever since she started volunteering at the animal shelter. Mason and I befriended her during a shift and started attending her yoga classes too.

For most of that time, Mason had feelings for Emma, while I pined after him.

“It was nice.”

“You said that already.”

I watch the road, mesmerized by the lines blurring from our speed. How did I get to this point? How did it all falter?

I’d wanted Mason to kiss me for years, but when it happened last week, it was wrong.

And not in a yet, oh so right kind of way.

“I was in love with him,” I whisper, and I’m not sure Emma hears me. She’s silent, so I speak louder. “I was in love with Mason. When we were kids, I looked up to him. He was this cool, older guy, and he always watched out for me. He’s always been friends with my brothers and was over at our house a lot, playing video games or swimming.” I inwardly roll my eyes, recalling the fights they used to have over whose turn it was or whose cannonball created the biggest splash. “He would always stop by my room on his way out and ask me what book I was reading or what new song I was listening to. When Tim Burgess broke up with me at prom, Mason left his date and gave me a ride home. He consoled me that night.” I stop my story there before I say too much.

Before I tell her that I was saving myself for Mason. He was supposed to be my first.

Of course, it’s just Emma, and she’s always been a good and caring listener. But hearing myself talk, I realize how pathetic I must sound. Why Mason and my brothers still treat me like a child. It’s because I sound like one.

I’ll be starting my senior year of college next month, but it’s like I’m stuck in high school.

In the past.

Emma nods. “What happened then?”

“I embarrassed myself.” I laugh softly, but it’s humorless. “I told him I didn’t care about Tim at all. That I was in love with Mason. But he told me he valued our friendship too much to try to be anything more.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch times a million.” I gulp, moving my attention from the lines on the road to the cars passing us in the opposite lane until I settle on the rolling hills in the distance.

She tilts her head. “That was years ago, though. You’re both older now and went on a real date. One where you didn’t have a curfew or your brothers lurking. Wait, they weren’t hiding in a booth or anything, right?”

“No, no. We were alone.” I giggle.

She relaxes a fraction into her seat.

“It was… nice, like I said.” I twist my lips. “He was finally giving me a chance, and it was surreal. Somewhere along the way, though, things changed without me realizing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He kissed me, and it felt like I was kissing my brother.” I wince.

Emma bursts into laughter, a blush tinting her porcelain skin. Wiping at her eye with one hand while the other steadies the steering wheel, she says, “Is it weird to say I know exactly what you mean? I never kissed him myself, but he has this brotherly vibe overall. What is it about him?”

I snort. “I don’t know! Maybe the corny jokes? His goofy smile? I mean, he’s hot, yet… I don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Once our laughter subsides, she asks, “How did you leave things?”

I inhale deeply. “I was honest with him. He’s my oldest friend, and I owed it to him to tell the truth. My feelings for him are nothing more than familial.”

“Wow.”

“Well, I wasn’t so eloquent. I think I actually used the words bro and dude on him, which rarely come out of my mouth.”

Emma giggles with me, and we continue our road trip, driving through the desert for part of it. It’s quiet out here, and I half-expect a tumbleweed to cross the road like in the movies. As we put more distance between us and my hometown of LA, we alternate between talk of guys and our favorite romantic comedies.

The casual topics put me at ease, distracting me from the last couple weeks, although dread seeps in every few miles. I should be excited about Vegas. About a vacation and taking a girls’ trip like this. Emma’s old roommate and good friend, Kendall, is meeting us there, and it’s going to be fun.

I am excited, but there’s still a sinking knot in my stomach that even Vegas and hot male strippers won’t be enough to make me forget.

The truth is, I’ve only known two things in my adult life: I want to be a veterinarian, and I’m in love with Mason Kinney.

I’m still on track to becoming a vet, having spent the last three years studying my ass off. I’ve missed roommate dinners and nights out in order to study, write papers, and make time for my family and myself.

As for Mason… I had planned on staying close to LA for vet school. I’m considering the private one in Pomona, the tuition for which is out of my league. On top of that, my chances of being accepted in the first place are slim to none.

Besides my brothers pushing for me to stay close, I was doing it for Mason because up until last week, I was convinced he and I would end up together. It’s how all the romance novels go, right? I felt this particular happily ever after deep in my bones. I’d stay near LA, be with Mason, and remain close to my family, overprotective brothers included.

Since things didn’t work out with Mason, though, and my brothers are driving me crazier than usual, I have all these options in front of me. I should be happy, but it’s like I’m standing out on a ledge, ready to jump, wondering who will catch me.

What do I really want now?

“You okay?” Emma asks.

“Just thinking.”

“We’re spending the weekend in Vegas. There’s no room for thinking.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Sounds like something Kendall might say.”

“She’s who I was trying to emulate.” She smirks, making me relax. “Since you know I like to have a game plan, I’m thinking we should go straight to the hotel, change, and head to the venue for the guys’ show. It’s in the same hotel, which is good because we’re going to be pushing it on time.”

“You don’t want to stop at Ty’s? I know you haven’t seen him in a week.”

She fights a smile. “He and I will catch up afterward.”

I nod and turn my attention to the window as we pass the green and white road sign for Vegas, right after the sun’s started setting. Before I know it, the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada” sign appears at the beginning of the Strip, and my heart races.

The sidewalks are full of couples, tourist groups, and more. Neon lights slowly flicker to life as the sky darkens. On either side of us, the buildings tower like angels and demons, one urging us to live quietly, the other daring us to be wild.

I think I’ll go with the latter.

It’s time I focus on something other than Mason or my textbooks and have a little fun. The bustling Strip stretches farther than my eyes can see, and I know I’ve come to the right place to do just that.

 

 

Chapter 3

BAILEY

At the entrance to the venue, Emma and I wait for Kendall to use the restroom. Emma tenses when she checks her Apple watch, muttering under her breath, “I swear, Kendall has aged me eighteen years. She makes me late for everything.”

I check the time on my phone too and notice we’re five minutes early, but for Emma, it’s late.

“Why did she insist we have drinks beforehand? We’re going to be drinking all night. More importantly, why did I agree to her stupid plan?” Emma rolls her eyes and checks her watch again.

“What’re you saying about me?” Kendall appears seemingly out of nowhere and loops her arm around our shoulders.

Emma scowls, leading us through the room full of women, drinks, and light-hearted energy. We go straight to our table in the front, and the moment our asses hit the seats, a server comes by for our drink orders.

As we wait for the show to start, my nerves spike. I’ve never been to this kind of show before. Being in Vegas alone has my insides tingling. There’s a unique energy swirling around this city like a drunken cloud.

Humming with possibilities.

Vibrating with wild abandon.

I’m equally thrilled and anxious.

I’m out of my element. The craziest thing I’ve ever done is take a sip of alcohol before I was of legal drinking age—at twenty. Hayden caught me and threatened to tell our parents. He’s not only my older brother by a year, but he’s a cop too.

Now, I’m in Vegas, ordering a Cosmo and getting ready to watch half-naked men dance on stage.

I glance around at the laughing women covered in glitter from their eyeshadow to their heels. Some of their faces are flushed. A few women wear birthday or bride-to-be sashes. Others squirm in their seats, adjusting their short skirts.

When my drink arrives, I tear my focus from the room and sip from the glass, the vodka sliding deliciously down my throat.

“Small sips, you.” Kendall reaches across the rectangular table between us and grasps my arm. “Even if I didn’t already know you, I can smell a newbie from a mile away, and you most definitely are. I’d hate to have to take you up to your room early because you puked on me, so pace yourself.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m fine. We only had one drink earlier, and this isn’t even my first time drinking.”

“I like your spunk.” She clinks her dark drink to mine, and we both take a sip.

Her husband, Sebastian, slides into the chair next to her. He seems to be one of only three guys in the crowd, but he doesn’t appear fazed, likely because he used to dance for Naked Heat himself.

He leans over and kisses Kendall on the mouth, their lips fused, and the scene makes me blush more than when I watch The Notebook. The first time I saw it, my mom had actually covered my eyes during the scene where Noah and Allie undress for each other. I was seventeen at the time, beyond ready to get out of the house and go to college, but according to Mom, I still wasn’t old enough to watch the movie in its entirety.

When I did, part of me was glad she’d covered my eyes.

The emcee emerges from the curtains, snapping me out of my trance, and greets the buzzing crowd. “Hello and good evening, ladies and a few gents. I’m Darren, your—might I say, sexy—host for the evening.”

I straighten my back, ready for this show and the night ahead, sipping more of my drink and enjoying the fruity taste of the splash of cranberry.

I wasn’t sure before, but I definitely needed this trip. My final year of college begins in a few weeks. The last few months consisted of one boring day after the next: working at Sebastian’s hotel as a server, completing a summer course, working on my vet school application and essay, and learning my lifelong crush isn’t my soulmate.

A hot male revue show should jolt my foggy brain and body to life, no problem.

“I need volunteers,” the emcee says into the microphone.

Some women wave their hands in the air, and others hide their faces.

I laugh when one woman screams, “I’ll be your volunteer, big daddy, if I can sit on your lap!”

The emcee chuckles and shakes his head like he gets that sort of response all the time. Which he probably does. He continues to scan the crowd, moving his hips from side to side and grinding them in the air.

Kendall throws Emma’s hand in the air. With the same murderous glare she gives when her sacred coffee time is interrupted, Emma warns Kendall, “I swear to God, I’ll chop your left hand right off so you can’t show off your wedding ring anymore. Is that what you want?”

I almost choke on my drink, and Kendall throws her head back, laughing.

Darren picks a lucky winner, and as she makes her way to the stage, I admire her confidence. She sways her hips and waves to the crowd like this is her show. Like she’s the queen of Naked Heat. A surprising twinge of jealousy hits me as I compare my lack of curves to her womanly shape.

I bring the rim of my glass to my lips, and my sip is more of a healthy gulp this time.

He picks two more volunteers, and when they’re all on stage, the emcee hands each of them the microphone to introduce themselves.

“Okay, here’s my question for you ladies: what do you sound like when you orgasm?” Darren wiggles his eyebrows toward the audience. “Listen up, people, because you all have to decide whose is the best. Here we go!”

I dip my head, blushing again as he moves down the line. They each make sensual, high-pitched moans—sounds I’ve never heard before.

My cheeks are on fire by the end.

Kendall and Emma both laugh, and Sebastian hides his face. “I forgot what it’s like to be on this side of the curtains,” he grumbles to our table.

I can’t imagine what he must’ve been like in his former life as a stripper. I’ve only known him as my boss at the hotel in LA, in a suit and tie. When I told him I’d be at this show, all he did was smirk and tell me to brace myself. He’s a serious, no-nonsense type of boss, but he has a fun side to him too, which is why I’m not nervous to be here with him.

“You sounded like you were in pain there, Ashley.” Darren laughs toward the crowd.

“If I’m lucky, I am.” Ashley smiles mischievously in the direction of what I assume is her table. They catcall more loudly than the rest of the room.

After Darren picks a winner, there’s a pause before the show starts. The server comes around again, and I ask her for another drink.

Emma nudges me. “Hey, I don’t care what Kendall’s crazy ass says, but don’t go nuts with these drinks. They’re strong.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Okay, don’t call me that, or I’ll never bring you to Vegas to see male genitalia ever again.”

My laughter gets caught in my throat when the lights dim, casting the room in darkness.

Thunder echoes through the speakers, followed by silence. I hold my breath when the sound of metal gates scraping open and a car engine revving reverberates through the room.

The music of “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent fills the room at the exact moment the curtains part, revealing five guys with their heads bowed.

They come forward, their steps and subtle sways syncing with the snaps in the song. Their black leather pants cling to all the right places of their muscular legs. Bow ties hang loosely around their necks, and black vests drape over their shoulders, barely containing their muscles.

My breath hitches as the music picks up, and they stalk to the front of the stage. When they raise their faces to stare at the crowd, the spotlight illuminates them.

Their smolders are locked and loaded.

I gulp.

My fingers tap against my leg to the beat of the music.

Women holler for them, especially when they squat down, jump back up, and yank their pants off with seemingly effortless movements.

They’re down to their spandex shorts, and I fight the urge to cover my eyes out of instinct.

My new drink arrives, and I mumble my thanks. After one long sip, I join Kendall, who’s clapping and dancing from side to side in her seat, while Emma sits upright, her posture never compromised.

The guys pull their vests open at the same time, their abs on display and completely droolworthy. My mouth falls open as the dancers move their bodies in a seductive wave, starting from the top. They grip their heads with one hand, thrust their chests out, and end with jutting their hips out, gyrating to the beat of the song.

Licking my lips, my gaze stops on one dancer in particular and remains glued there as if I’m hypnotized. The cheers and claps around me become muffled from the blood rushing to my ears as recognition dawns. I knew I’d see him today, but I wasn’t prepared for this.

Leo Black.

His long, lean torso.

His sensual and provocative movements.

His biceps flex as he removes his vest the rest of the way, sliding the material off like he’s undressing for me and me alone.

My face reddens as I soak in the sight of his bare, oiled-down flesh.

He runs his fingers through his black hair and moves to the back of the line they’re all forming, his leg muscles naturally flexing, making me gasp.

He moves so seductively.

So scandalous.

As though he’s making love to the song.

When they’re turned around at the end of the song, all in a line across the stage, they drop their shorts, revealing more man than I’ve seen in my whole life.

The room fills with a symphony of appreciative gasps, and although my instinct is to turn away—that it’s wrong to gawk—I can’t. I can’t tear my eyes from Leo, the tall, tan guy with tuggable hair.

My God, since when do I say tuggable?

Halfway through the show, Leo comes onto the stage alone, walking across it like he owns it. The song isn’t one I recognize, but it’s much like the opening one.

Sexy.

Decked in a police costume, Leo slides his palm along the front of his open navy shirt, from his chest down to his abs, then fingers the waistband of his matching pants.

His eyes burn with a fire so hot and bright that I automatically touch my forehead like I’m checking for a fever.

Leo stands at the edge of the stage and points out to the crowd until he settles on a woman sitting on the other side of the room. He crooks his finger toward her, and she practically runs to meet him.

On stage, he twirls her around before he sets her in the chair behind him.

Gripping the armrests, he bends down, grinding his body into her until he’s hovering over her again. Every few seconds of the song, he loses more and more articles of clothing until he’s in nothing but a cap and Spandex navy shorts.

He doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

My cheeks heat, especially when I notice the very large… bulge… between his legs.

He smirks at the giggly woman, who boldly places her hand on his abs. He moves her hand farther down like he’s going to cup his junk with it, but he removes it at the last minute, winking.

She pouts, and I feel for her.

I grip the stem of my glass, wishing I would’ve had the guts to raise my hand. To volunteer for this. To be the one who can have him so close.

I down the rest of my drink as Leo falls to the floor on his hands and hoists himself into a push-up. He then flips around, humping the air in front of the woman.

Grinning, he stands and helps the woman up as the song nears its end—it must be almost over, right?

He whispers something in her ear, and she covers her laugh. What is he saying? I find myself sitting on the edge of my seat as if I can hear better this way.

As he turns his back toward us, I catch him lick his lips like they taste sweet and delicious, and suddenly, heat courses through my body.

My breathing is heavy as if I held it for the entirety of his number.

This is what I imagine being turned on feels like.

And all it took was a single dance from Leo Black.