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“And because it’s really close to where we’re heading next. I hope you’re in the mood to dance.”

Dance? I’m picturing a bar with loud music and strangers pressing against one another, getting more desperate as the night goes on. The good news is, people are usually having fun and getting drunk, so they shouldn’t notice me. “I’ve never danced.”

“Never?”

I don’t know why she looks so shocked. “A lot of people have never danced.”

She raises her brows. “I don’t know any. Surely you danced at least once at your wedding reception.”

“Rebecca and I were married at the county courthouse. After I paid for the marriage license and the costume-jewelry wedding rings, I had forty-three dollars to my name. Neither of us had family or friends attending. So no reception.”

Nia looks stunned. “Diana didn’t come?”

“She never liked Becca.” And that always bothered me.

“Why?”

“According to Diana, I’m a ‘strong personality,’ and she thought I needed someone equally strong to balance me. Becca was fragile. As she matured and felt more secure, she grew a better sense of self. But Diana is the sort of person who makes up her mind once and there’s no changing it.”

Nia pauses. “Okay, so you didn’t dance at your wedding. What about school events? The prom?”

I shake my head. “I spent most of my time with computers, and Becca’s foster father would never have let her go to anything like that.”

“Well, since you’ve missed out on all the fun of the dance floor, I’m going to help you make up for lost time.”

“I’m going to be horrible at this.”

She laughs. “First, we don’t know that for sure. Second, everyone has to start somewhere.”

“What about you? How did you start dancing?”

“My mom worked a lot. One of her friends owned a dance studio and watched me after school so I wouldn’t be alone. I was six when I decided I didn’t want to watch anymore.” She shrugs. “I spent years dancing, lots of it competitively in high school. I’ve got ribbons and trophies galore if you want to see sometime.”

“When did you find burlesque?” I’m displeased that she seeks attention from strangers by taking most of her clothes off on stage, but I still want to understand.

“My first year of college. I had a TA who danced on the side. She broke her ankle skiing and asked if I could fill in until she healed.” Nia shrugs. “I’ve been hooked since. I know you think it’s the same as stripping, but burlesque is an art form. It’s a tease. No one is shoving bills in my thong. No one touches me. And no one gets to ask me for a lap dance. I have all the power to shake my thing, give the audience a wink, and go home alone.”

“Do you get hit on at the club?” I don’t know why that possibility hasn’t occurred to me sooner. Heck, I don’t even know why I bothered to ask now. “Of course you do.”

“It happens. Most guys accept a gracious but firm no. For the ones who are a little more persistent, Kyle is usually around and willing to play boyfriend. It’s not perfect, but it works.”

Not for me, it doesn’t. And it seems as if everywhere I turn, I’m confronted by Nia’s exes.

“How many lovers have you had?” The question is out before I can stop it.

She tenses. “More than you. Is that a problem? It doesn’t make me a slut.”

“No. It doesn’t. I-I didn’t mean to imply⁠—”

“Then what did you mean?”

This is my insecurity showing. This is me wondering if I can make her happy emotionally…and sexually. I lack her experience. It’s not as if I can blame her for what she did before we got together. And I don’t regret my years with Becca. After all, our choices have led us here.

Sex with Nia blew my mind, but I’m wondering if I can really do the same for her. The passion we shared in her dressing room was unexpected and urgent, like a sudden tornado that swept us both up. But if we deliberately planned to spend the night together, took our time and shared our pleasure slowly? I don’t know if I could turn her inside out and persuade her to surrender herself to me. Once with Nia was enough to tell me that she’s vastly different in bed than Becca. I’m wondering if I’m actually prepared for a woman like her.

“That I don’t want to disappoint you.”

She softens. “I don’t think you can.” I must still look unconvinced, because she sighs and takes my hand. “Look at it this way: I’ve had a little experience with a lot of guys. None of it lasted. None of it wowed me. None of it was with anyone I loved. You have a lot of experience with one woman. You know what it’s like to really connect, keep it fresh, and make something last. I don’t think one kind of experience is better than the other. And I don’t think any of that really matters. I’m not thinking about Kyle or Mateo when I’m with you. And I hope you’re not thinking about Becca when you’re with me.”