"Dylan, I'm not dancing."
A smirk curled at the edge of his lips. "No, you're not just dancing," he murmured, taking a slow step forward, "you're dancing and doing other things. Trust me, it'll be fun."
He paused, eyes twinkling with amusement, before adding, "Onto the pole or on my lap? Either way, works perfectly fine for me."
Before Olivia could retort, a sharp moan rang out from the speaker, followed by the beat of her favorite bad girl anthem—Crush. Her breath hitched. This song... She hadn't heard it in a while, but the moment it hit, something awakened in her.
She blinked, startled by the accuracy. "This song... how did you know about it?"
The words spilled from her lips before she could pull them back.
Dylan tilted his head, eyes never leaving her face. "The real question you should be asking is: What don't you know about me?"
His tone dropped low. "Ask me that, Olivia."
