𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞

Chapter five

                            ...............

She was having a lazy morning.

Though she had woken up earlier to cook breakfast for Jamie, she'd gone back to bed, snuggled under the blanket, the morning sun sneaking through the curtain, the occasional breeze coming in from the slightly opened window bringing in fresh air to the crammed small bedroom.

Turning her body to lie on the right side, Imani willed her brain to stop the memories of last night, but it had its own life and couldn't be bent to her will; worse, her heart was now involved. The warm feeling was spreading around it at the memory of him handing her his coat.

"Wear this, " he'd said. His voice was smooth, quiet, and husky. It reminded Imani of dark chocolate in her mouth, melting slowly while the sweat taste filled and dripped down her throat. She had taken the coat, their fingers slightly touching, her breath catching, her heart beating fast as she felt the touch later like he'd stamped her.

"Thank you, " she mumbled when she was done wearing it, the long sleeves hiding her hands; she looked tiny in his coat, Matthew thought, so young he was afraid she might be underaged, but the club wouldn't hire underaged staff, would they? "How old are you?" his voice sounded grave, his eyes fixed on her face as if he was looking for a telltale to catch her on a lie. She smiled, not with her mouth, but with the eyes, the glint that settled there before she averted her eyes to her lap and then looked at the door.

She wanted to laugh it off the same way she'd done when he asked her to tell him about herself, but she had known he wouldn't allow her to escape this one. It had been in that grave voice, the way he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at her like he was ready to ponce on her in case she mentioned any number of years below the legal age.

It would destroy his image, his brand, but he would sue the hell out of this establishment.

"I'll be twenty-three next Friday," Imani answered, confirming that she was indeed of legal age.

"That's young, " Matthew swiftly turned to lean back on the couch, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Young for what?" she threw back at him, running a hand across her neck, her hair falling on one side. He narrowed his eyes, assuming she was trying to flirt with him, but after a few seconds, he realized she was trying to massage her neck.

She must have been tired. He thought. "For anything, " he answered after a while, watching her beneath hooded eyes while she had her eyebrows up with an amused look.

She was young. Way too young. He should walk out of this room if he were honorable and never look back or demand Alana back. But he wasn't honorable; he was ruthless, selfish, and eleven years older than her. Letting her go would have been the best for her, but Matthew knew he would always wonder why she chose to be a stripper or how she would feel naked beneath him, or why she was afraid to burst out in laughter. What was she afraid of?

Was she in a relationship? Was there a man out there who already knew how she tasted?

"No, I'm not. I feel like I've lived a century already."

Matthew didn't respond immediately, but her choice of words spoke of a difficult life, answering one of his questions. She wasn't stripping for designer shoes or bags; this was her livelihood.

"Don't look at me like that?"

"Like what?" He chuckled, his eyes skimming over her as if she was edible, and she felt it.

"As if you have me figured out, trust me, Mr. Ocean, you don't."

"I believe you." she grinned, consciously running the side of her arm under his coat. She no longer felt tired; her eyes were alert, her legs relaxed, she couldn't feel the pressure on the heel of her feet like usual, but hunger was beginning to creep in, and she was afraid of embarrassing herself if her stomach started rumbling.