Traded by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 16

“I can totally still do a cartwheel,” Ben argues loudly from the front seat.

We’re less than a mile away from the strip club and I’ve debated just turning around and going home. I’m not sure either of them would actually notice. They’re still making prop bets, and the latest one has Jack insisting Ben can’t do something he was able to do in his childhood.

“Prove it in the parking lot for a hundred bucks.”

“You’re on,” Ben says. He leans in toward me. “I would’ve taken that bet for twenty.”

I laugh. He smells like yeasty beer, and he didn’t lower his voice as much as he thought he did.

“I heard that,” Jack says.

Ben covers his mouth with his hand in an oops sort of fashion, and these two may be animals, but they’re sure entertaining animals.

“What if you hurt yourself?” I ask Ben quietly. “The season’s only a couple months away and a sprained wrist could really mess up your game.”

“You think I can’t do it?” His tone is both accusatory and mocking at the same time.

“I think you can. I just don’t think you should.”

He laughs. “Five bucks says I can.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Fine. You’re on.” I lean in toward him and don’t lower my voice, either. “I would’ve taken that bet for twenty.”

What follows can only be described as uproarious laughter.

I pull into a space and Jack practically falls out of the backseat the second the car stops while Ben has to unwedge himself from the front. And then he proves both Jack and me wrong as he turns over in a perfect cartwheel.

I dig through my purse for a five while Jack hands him a hundred.

Ben waggles his eyebrows again. “I’d say I won’t spend it all in one place, but you both know this is about to disappear into a G-string.”

We head inside, and the two celebrity athletes (plus me) are lead through the main room after the hostess mentions something about a private suite for them.

I see a woman wearing the G-string Ben just mentioned doing her thing on stage as we pass through. I watch for a beat, and as much as the men in here are just objectifying women, I can’t help but notice how talented this woman is. She’s beautiful, and she’s athletic as she moves on the pole in ways I could never dream of moving. She’s confident in what she’s doing where I could never dance in only a thong with people watching me.

Jack glances over at me and catches me watching, and he quirks a brow. Thank God it’s dark in here, because my cheeks heat up and I’m sure I’m a bright shade of tomato red.

We’re taken into the private suite, and there’s no stage in here but the same music as the main room pumps loudly in here.

There’s a couple couches and a pole, and a stripper walks in a minute later. She doesn’t say a word as she starts dancing, and both men settle onto the couches. I’m not sure where to sit until Jack nods to the seat beside him.

I perch on the edge of the small couch, pushing myself as far away from him as I can as I think about what may have happened on this couch before I sat on it.

The distance from Jack doesn’t matter. Our knees touch anyway.

I keep my eyes on the dancer even though I’m really curious to look at Jack to see his reactions to her.

Eventually she moves toward him, but he waves her off politely to let Ben take the lap dance.

Ben is basically in heaven as she grinds on his lap, and I sit awkwardly as I watch what’s happening. It seems like she wants him and he wants her, and I’ve heard that whole thing about strippers and how part of their job is to make clients think they have a shot...but this is Ben Olson. Of course he has a shot.

He follows the rules of no touching, but she doesn’t. She leans forward and licks his neck, and I feel like I’m a voyeur in someone else’s bedroom. Should we even be in here?

When I glance over at Jack, though, I find his eyes on me.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks softly.

I lift a shoulder. “I feel like they could use some time alone.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, and my eyes flick there. “Would you rather watch her with me?”

I shake my head. He’s drunk, and I know this, and that’s where this conversation stems. He probably won’t even remember it...but I will.

“Why not?” he asks softly.

Because I want you. Because I can’t stop thinking about Halloween. Because I want to be the one giving you a lap dance...preferably with both of us naked so you can slide into me the way you did on a couch in a nightclub not so long ago.

A wave of heat washes over me, and I seem to mirror him as I catch my own bottom lip between my teeth. I shrug instead of giving him a real answer.

He elbows me in the arm. “Come on, Kia. It’s okay to tell me.”

I shake my head. I glance over at Ben, and he is now completely ignoring the no touching rule as his hands slide up her thighs. His mouth is hot on hers as they make out right in front of us, and her body gyrates over his like they’re both completely naked.

“We should go before he gets into trouble,” I say, nodding toward Ben.

Jack glances over and his eyes widen a little. “Dumbass,” he mutters. He stands and moves closer to Ben before he yells into his ear, “Olson!”

Ben pushes the stripper’s shoulders back just a little to break their kiss, and he looks both dazed and drunk. “What?”

“Get her number and take her home later,” Jack says. He nods at the stripper, and I can’t help but notice how polite he is. “You know as well as I do it’s a bad idea to do this here.”

Somehow Jack gets through to him, and Ben gets her number. We take off back home shortly after that, and I feel like I managed to dodge a bullet.

The car ride home is quiet, and my best guess is it’s because the buzz is wearing off and now they’re just tired from day drinking.

“Thanks for thinking of my rep,” Ben says once I’m about to pull into Jack’s driveaway. “You know I would’ve taken her right there.”

I’m surprised he’s saying this in front of me, but I shouldn’t be considering he’s admitting he would’ve just had sex in front of me without a second thought.

Drunken idiots.

“It was all Kia,” Jack murmurs absently.

Ben elbows me. “Thanks, Kate,” he says, using my correct name, and I press my lips together and nod once.

“My services apparently extend to any of Jack’s friends on the Aces,” I mutter dryly, and for some reason, that cracks up both men in the car. Maybe the buzz hasn’t worn off yet.

Once Ben grabs a ride home, Jack sprawls on the couch in the family room while I make myself a plate of ham and mashed potatoes Brenda left behind. “Do you want anything?” I ask.

“I’d love a plate of whatever you’re having if you don’t mind,” he says. “And thanks for a great day, Kia.”

“Did you have fun?” I ask absently while I make a second plate.

“Yeah,” he says, and I think I hear something in his voice...something forced, something that tells me he has to tell me he had fun but maybe this wasn’t all he wanted out of his day. “But now I’m sober, tired, and hungry.”

I finish heating our food and meet him at the kitchen table.

“Can I show you something?” I ask once we’re both sitting with our plates in front of us.

He raises his brows. “You can show me anything you want.” His voice is suggestive, and I just shake my head.

I pull out my phone and open my gallery folder then press play on the video I shot as I slide the phone toward him. He watches the video where he chugs a beer and his friend slams another can against his own forehead. He raises a brow when the video ends. “You took a video of us?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“So you could see what you looked like.” I take a bite of my ham.

“Why do I need to see that?”

I shrug. “Is that how you’d want JJ to remember you?”

“There’s plenty of footage of me leading teams to victories or performing community service. I fail to see how one video of an adult having some fun with his friends would paint me as some sort of villain.” He pushes his plate away petulantly.

“Let me ask you a question.”

He raises his brows as if to tell me to go for it.

“When you win a game, what do you remember more: the praise or the criticism?”

“The criticism,” he admits. “It’s always easier to believe the negative.”

I nod and press my lips together. “Exactly.”

He mulls that over a while as he pulls his plate back toward him and finishes eating in silence. I think I drove my point home, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to change his behavior anytime soon.