'I don't need to explain myself to you,' was all that he said. 'Go to bed.'

His shutters slammed down again. She practically saw them falling over his eyes.

'I've left my keys downstairs,' she said. 'There's a spare in your set.'

He frowned, fishing his keys out of his jeans. 'I have a key to your door?'

'You did, until now,' she corrected. 'I'll have it back, please.'

'Do you have one for my door?'

Genie sighed. 'Yes.'

'Then you can have yours back when I have mine.'

He really was a world cla.s.s wind-up, and her temper flared. 'Stop being a d.i.c.k and give me my key, Abel.'

He flicked through the keys and identified the one for Genie's door, then stepped forward and slid it into the lock.

'Don't call me names when I'm helping you out,' he admonished her silkily.

She half laughed at the absurdity of his statement. 'You're not helping me. You're trying to take everything I have. Believe me, I've called you far, far worse in my head. Be glad you only heard d.i.c.k and liar.'

'I haven't lied to you, Beauty,' he said, after a heartbeat, his hand still on the keys in the door. 'Not once.'

'You're lying to yourself too if you believe that, Abel,' she said, her words softened by his term of endearment. 'I saw you the first time you came here. You were turned on watching me on stage. And again, watching me tonight.'

'You're dead wrong,' he muttered, his eyes nailed to her door. He was close to her, and she could almost feel the anger contained in his taut body.

She wasn't wrong and she knew it, and she sensed that this went to the core of him. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his chest and saw him close his eyes in silent resistance.

'Is it so bad to be turned on by me like this, Abel?' she said, feeling his heart beating hard against her palm.

'Don't f.u.c.k with me, Genie,' he ground out, pushing her door open. 'I mean it.'

It was one of those moments when sense goes out the window and instinct takes over. Genie tugged at the belt of her robe and shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in one fluid motion, revealing her body in nothing but the nipple ta.s.sels and tiny crystal g-string she'd left the stage wearing.

'Is it so bad to want me when I look like this, Abel?'

He turned towards her and dropped his eyes, his palms scrubbing over his jaw as if he didn't trust his hands if they weren't occupied.

'I told you not to f.u.c.k with me, Beauty,' he breathed, almost agonised, and she saw the exact, dangerous moment that his resolve snapped.

He shoved the keys into his pocket and then his hands were on her waist, lifting her up onto the hallway table, sending the lamp flying as he parted her thighs with his hip to let him in between them. Genie gasped when he tipped her chin back with his hand and dipped his head to her throat, the erotic drag of his hot and open mouth down her skin. The clean, aromatic scent of his hair surrounded her, dark silk falling over his brow as a low, animalistic growl rattled through his chest.

Genie put her hands on either side of his stubbled jaw and lifted his head to hers, desperate for his kiss yet still shocked by the intensity of it when he finally gave it to her. Hard enough to bruise, designed to punish, profoundly s.e.xy. She gulped down air and dragged his head down again when he lifted it, his crotch hard in hers as he clamped her against him with his hand splayed on her back, his other hand cupping the back of her neck. He held her as a man holds a woman he adores, and he kissed her as a man kisses a woman he needs to f.u.c.k more than he needs to breathe.

Her hands moved under the bottom of his tee shirt, and he broke off for the briefest of seconds to drag it over his head before pulling her into him again, skin to skin. The sensation blindsided her; the heat and the beauty of him. Tanned deep bronze in the way that only a man who spends his life out in the sunshine can be, with a fine trail of dark hair traced on his midriff that she wanted to follow all the way down into his jeans. His hands move to cover and cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, making her moan into his mouth.

'I warned you not to f.u.c.k with me...' he muttered again, still angry even as his mouth gentled over her jaw, grazing the skin beneath her ear, drifted over her collarbones to the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands, somehow lewder for the scant cover provided by the crystal ta.s.sels than if she'd been naked.

'You're covered in f.u.c.king glitter,' he spoke against her skin as he dragged her hips forward to the edge of the table and trailed his tongue over the top curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 'You too,' she whispered, smoothing her fingers over the gold dust that had transferred itself onto his shoulders, his cheekbones, his abs.

She drew in a shuddering breath when Abel lowered his head and licked around the edges of the sequinned ta.s.sels. No man had ever touched her in costume like this before. Having his mouth slide around the ta.s.sels was just about the s.e.xiest thing she'd ever seen or felt, and her body screamed for his tongue over her nipples.

'Take these off,' he said, tugging lightly on the ta.s.selled ends, his restless mouth roaming the curves her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 'I need to taste all of you.'

Genie groaned with frustration, wanting him to see her too. 'They don't come off easily.'

Abel grumbled low in his chest, like an animal denied his dinner. Genie understood; she wanted him to feast on her just as much.

'And this?' he said, bending to kiss his way down her stomach and lick along the top edge of the crystal g-string. 'Is this welded on too?'

She shook her head, although he hadn't waited for her reply in any case. He'd already dropped to his haunches, his fingers splayed on her inner thighs, holding her open. His hands were firm and tanned against the smooth ivory of her skin. He moved the barely-there barrier of her g-string aside with one finger and studied her, intent and intense, his lips parted just enough for Genie to be able to feel the warmth of his breath between her legs.

Genie's heart stopped beating for a few seconds. She'd thought that she'd wanted him to touch her in the lift, but nowhere near as much as she wanted him to put his mouth on her now. And then he did, slow, warm and sure, the sweep of his eyelashes dark on his cheek, his earlier restlessness replaced by unhurried sensuousness; pure gold. Watching him, she smoothed her fingers over his hair, saw each stroke of his tongue a second before the sensation hit her flesh.

The first o.r.g.a.s.m Abel had given her had been urgent and extreme, driven by the need for speed. Tonight he took his sweet time, paying attention to her reactions, licking her slowly, circling his tongue harder when it made her fingers grab into his hair to rock herself onto his mouth for more. She lost focus when he laughed, low and s.e.xy, then eased his fingers inside her, drawing her c.l.i.toris into his mouth. He had her and he knew it, holding her in his mouth as her muscles jerked and she dug her fingernails into the smooth bulk of his warm, sports-star shoulders.

His breathing was almost as shallow as hers for a few seconds, and he turned his face to drift barely there kisses along her inner thigh before rising to his feet. His c.o.c.k strained hard against his jeans, but he caught hold of her hand when she reached down to release him.

'Go to bed, Beauty.'

'Come with me?' she asked, quiet, wanting him, wanting to give to him as he'd given to her.

Abel shook his head, and Genie could feel him retreating even though he was as standing as close as he could possibly be.

'That's not how this is gonna go.'

Confusion clouded her mind. She couldn't get the measure of him. He wanted s.e.x with her really, really badly. He might not have said it with words, but his c.o.c.k couldn't lie.

'How is it going to go then, Abel? You get to help yourself to my body but I don't get yours?'

'Don't pretend you didn't like it,' he said. 'You were the one who took your clothes off, lady. I took it that you needed servicing.'

'Needed servicing?' she said, repeating his dumb insult because it took her by surprise so much.

'You heard me right.' He scooped her forwards off the table with his warm hands on her a.s.s and set her down on her feet. 'And now you've been serviced, so we can both go and get some sleep.'

Genie hated that the sound that left her lungs sounded like a strangled cat, but it was all she could manage, to articulate the rage and frustration and loathing that formed in her chest as Abel touched his fingers to his brow in mock salute and disappeared into his apartment without glancing back.

Inside his front door, Abel kicked the nearest chair so hard it flew across the room and made for the shower. Again.

Inside her front door, Genie heard the smash. Half of her wanted to go and force him to take what he so obviously needed. The other half of her wanted to smash something herself, preferably something heavy over Abel Kingdom's stupid, beautiful head.

Chapter Nine.

The next morning found Genie restless, still wound up and confused as h.e.l.l. For a man she'd known for barely a week, Abel took up an inordinate amount of her time and her thoughts. She couldn't handle his att.i.tude towards her; the way he made her want him and showed her that he wanted her - then refused to take her. He'd given her two bone-melting o.r.g.a.s.ms, yet for the most part he seemed like he couldn't stand the sight of her. She wanted to make him come so hard his knees would buckle, yet at the same time she wanted to clamp her hands around his throat and stop his breath. It was exhausting, and she was more than aware that the s.e.xual tension was distracting her from the real and urgent business of raising enough money to keep hold of the theatre. She'd called a meeting with Deanna and the newly recruited Divine Girls later that day. She could only hope that between them they could formulate a plan of action, because left to her own devices, all Genie seemed able to think about was the infuriating man across the hall.

Abel looked up from the plans he'd spread out on the dining table, hearing the knock on the door. Folding them in two, he crossed to open it and found Genie there with a bacon sandwich in her hand.

'I made you breakfast.' She held the plate out and smiled before taking a sip of coffee from the mug in her other hand.

'To say thank you for your o.r.g.a.s.m?' he said acidly, even though it smelled good and he was hungry.

She didn't take the bait, just kept on smiling that pretty girl smile and raised her eyebrows expectantly until he accepted the plate and swept his arm out in resigned invitation. Genie followed him back to the dining table. All traces of last night's showgirl had been erased by her daytime uniform of cut off shorts, tee shirt and tied back hair. She could pa.s.s for eighteen, and she sure made him feel like a clueless teenager too. She wrong-footed him at every turn, like this most of all. He didn't know how to be around her when she was this way: unguarded-looking, innocent, and every inch as s.e.xy as her womanly alter ego. More so. Dangerously so, because she bought out his hunter protector gene and made him feel like a prize s.h.i.t for wanting her theatre.

'Is it good?' she asked, nodding towards the sandwich, sipping her coffee as she perched on a dining chair.

It was good. Really good.

'How old are you, Genie?'

Mild surprise registered in her eyes. 'Twenty-eight. Why?'

He shrugged. 'Nothing. Just... nothing.' He wasn't sure how to articulate it without starting another argument and he preferred his mornings drama-free.

She didn't push him. Maybe she was fresh out of argumentative spirit this morning too. Or maybe she had her own agenda. From the pensive look on her face, he was pretty sure that whatever was on her mind was about to come out of her mouth. He was careful not to let his eyes linger on her lips for long, because every time he did his c.o.c.k stood up and begged to be fed between them.

'Will you do something for me, Abel?' she said, her voice soft and her gaze direct. He prayed it was something easy, because in that moment he feared there was no way on earth he could say no.

'Go on,' he said, pushing the empty plate away from him and taking a slug of her coffee.

'I just want you to listen to me. A few minutes of your time. No interruptions.'

He had the time. He wasn't certain he wanted to hear what she had to say, but he nodded all the same.

'It's about your opinion of me,' she said, confirming his suspicion that he wasn't going to enjoy the next few minutes.

'Or else your opinion about what I do, which seems to be a problem for you. I'm not sure you understand it, and I want you to. Burlesque isn't cheap, Abel, and it isn't prost.i.tution. It's an age-old form of entertainment, rich in comedy and music hall tradition. It's about striptease, illusion, art... a celebration of women. Yes, it's suggestive. Yes, it's s.e.xy. But it's not obscene, or debasing to the performer or the watchers. When I'm up there on stage, it's... I can't even put it into words how it makes me feel. Powerful, and feminine, and I can feel the audience sharing in that with me. I see it in their eyes, my pleasure amplified in theirs. It's that connection, that appreciation, that makes it so thrilling. So addictive.'

Abel listened to every word and detested them all. Had she finished? Was it his turn to speak now?

'There's something else too. Last night, out there on the landing... that's the first time any man has ever touched me in costume, Abel.'

He reached for her coffee again, needing the scorch to burn away the image of her on that table last night in her ta.s.sels and g-string.

The knowledge that no other man had touched her while she was dressed like that did things it shouldn't have done for his ego, perversely making him harsher than he might otherwise have been.

'You done?'

She accepted the mug he pushed back across the table and nodded, her pretty face a mask of subtle hope.

'Nice speech, Beauty. I can see you mean it too. You love your job. You're proud of what you do. I get it. Is that what you want from me?'

Clouds gathered in her eyes. 'Not really, no.'

'Ah.' Abel nodded. 'You want me to agree with you. Well, therein lies the problem, green eyes. You say s.e.xy, I say s.e.xual. The same, but very f.u.c.king different. You say music hall tease, I say stripper. You say striptease is a celebration of being a woman. Do you think it feels like that to women who strip in seedy downtown bars for men who want a whole lot more than to appreciate their playful sense of humour?'

Watching her digesting his words, all innocence and ponytails, riled him something chronic. 'Is a high cla.s.s hooker different to a girl on a street corner, Genie? Just because you work a more cla.s.sy joint, it doesn't make you any better, darlin'.'

The clouds in her eyes turned full on stormy, telling him he'd hit home. 'That's not fair and you know it, Abel.' She held her body rigid with anger. 'What about what you do? Gyms and whatever. Does that make you representative of those guys who wreck their bodies and their brains with steroids, who flip out and kill their girlfriends in a jealous drug-induced rage? Does that sit heavy on your shoulders?'

Abel huffed. It was completely different. Fitness was a lifestyle choice, not a last resort for people clean out of other options.

'No, I guessed not,' she said, standing up to leave, obviously feeling that she'd won her point. No. No way.

He flipped the plans open on the table and her eyes moved over them, widening slowly.

'Why Abel? Why me, why here? Why this personal crusade?'

She didn't have the first f.u.c.king clue how personal this was.

'See this?' he said, running his finger over the plans. 'Seven weeks, and then this happens. The precious stage you perform on? Ripped out. The seats your audience ogle you from? Trashed. Gone, the whole f.u.c.king lot of it. Too right this is personal, and the reason why is none of your business.'

They were both on their feet, facing each other down across the table. The fury and hurt in her eyes gratified him and pained him in equal measures.

'Thanks for breakfast. You can leave now,' he said, sarcasm iced through his voice.

'You haven't won yet,' she whispered, hot pink spots burning bright on her cheeks, her fists balled with temper. 'Not by a long chalk, mister. This place is still mine, and I'm not giving it up without a fight.'

'Fine. Have it your own way, but I should warn you... I don't fight fair, lady.'

'Me neither. You haven't seen the half of me.'

He laughed, deliberately mocking her bravado. 'Oh, I think I have, darlin', along with the rest of your appreciative audience.'

She was practically shaking. 'I think I actually hate you,' she spat, unguarded in her own fury.

'You should tell that your body,' he said, shooting her a slow, disdainful look that made her want to gouge his eyes out with her fingernails. 'Only it seemed to disagree with you last night.'

Chapter Ten.

Genie glanced from the kitchen towards the five girls a.s.sembled in her living room, each of them strikingly different and all of them s.e.xy in their own unique way. She and Deanna had deliberately selected the most seasoned performers from the applications to join The Divine Girls, because time was absolutely of the essence. They needed a show ready to go yesterday, and each of these women came with their acts already highly polished and perfected. Holly and Pearl she already knew quite well from the circuit, both women having performed previously in burlesque showcase nights at the theatre to general acclaim. Holly was as pet.i.te as Pearl was tall and as brunette as Pearl was blonde.

Petra was Italian, and dripped Sophia Loren-style s.e.xuality from her exquisitely painted eyes to her heavily accented English. She'd walked into the auditions with nothing more than a copy of an Italian broadsheet newspaper as a prop, and had proceeded to sit on a straight backed chair and disrobe whilst reading the paper in a way that had her all-female audience roundly applauding her skill.