by Mia Dymond
Throwing all good sense to the wind, Alex tossed the long, blonde tresses over one shoulder, swayed her hips from side to side and then grasped the pole. She braced her back against the cool metal then lowered herself into a deep squat, opening her thighs and then closing them. She twisted her lips into a sultry smirk then pushed against the pole to stand straight.
She glanced at her friends, all of whom stared wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and apparently speechless.
“What?”
“You definitely don’t need my help,” Bri mumbled as she left the stage and took a chair at the table.
“Hold on.” Dara rummaged through her purse. “I know I have some ones in here somewhere.”
Marnie finally smirked. “You’re just full of secrets.”
Alex wrapped one leg around the pole and shimmied against the metal, incredibly carefree for once in a very long time. Maybe the alcohol inspired her more than a little, maybe not, but in any regard she felt good. Inhibitions? What inhibitions?
“What the heck? Since no one can see me, I might as well try it on for size. Crank up the music.”
Bri stood and then walked across the room to press a silver button on one wall. “Uh, Alex.” She bit her lip. “The activity in this room is recorded.”
“Come again?”
“For security purposes. Not to worry though, you’re in disguise. No one will ever guess it’s you wrapped around that thing.”
***
“Jackson, you’ve got to see this.”
Jackson looked down and frowned as Jake vigorously tugged at his shirt sleeve. “We’re supposed to be locating suspects.” He pulled away from the assault and glanced at the security camera, ready to blast his friend for taking in the show, when his jaw dropped instead. “Holy hell.” The short, blonde woman on the screen gyrated in time to a heavy metal beat, her body wrapped around a pole on the stage, while three other women clapped and encouraged her every move. He moved his gaze to the audience. Dara. Marnie. Bri. That meant the dancer could only be one certain woman. “That’s Alex.”
“Told ya.” Jake released a wolf whistle.
“Cut it out,” he snapped. “What the hell is she doing?”
“Entertaining.”
“Stop watching, Rawlings!”
Jake turned and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Jackson knew he was busted; his demand for his friend to stop visually undressing Alex was maybe just a little too forceful. Yet at the time, he really didn’t give a rat’s ass.
“Because she’s not even supposed to be here!” He glanced back at the screen, intent on marching downstairs, throwing her over one shoulder, and hauling her out in handcuffs. Except, the more she shimmied her incredibly sexy body around that lucky, lucky pole his procrastination built. What were ten more seconds in the whole scheme of things?
A muscle ticked at the base of his jaw while she tossed back her head and slid her hips up and then down the silver metal. Up … down … up … down …
“What the—?”
“Rawlings!” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose and quickly interrupted. “Aren’t you even remotely concerned that Bri’s here?”
“She’s not on the pole.”
“True, but I’ll bet you a hundred bucks she had something to do with it.”
His partner laid a hand on his shoulder. “Jackson, man, the pole is not your enemy. Especially since my observation confirms she knows how to work it.”
Yes, she sure does. Even through his extreme shock, Jackson kept his silent confession to himself. Never mind the fact that his cock now stood at full attention and arousal coated his every nerve ending, he was going to have to get her out of there. One way or another.
“I’m going down there to get her. Call Ryker and tell him to send Storm home.”
Jake snickered. “I’d offer backup, but you couldn’t pay me enough to interfere.”
Jackson gave his friend one last hard glare and turned to exit the room. He took the stairs two at a time while he attempted to harness his temper. Although his knee-jerk reaction was to barge in with guns-a-blazing, he dismissed the notion – mainly for survival reasons. She’d rip him up one side and down the other if he even attempted to issue another ultimatum and that would make catching her stalker quite difficult.
He hesitated once he stood outside the door of the Platinum Room. The guard standing there only gave him a sympathetic smirk and gestured to the door with his head. “Good luck in there.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Any chance you’d like to go in with me?”
The other man chuckled. “Sorry, I’m on duty for another room.”
Tension twisted his nerve endings as he placed a hand on the doorknob and turned. He pulled open the door. Smoky, green eyes met his over the heavy metal music. An invisible, magnetic force urged him inside. The door snapped closed behind him.
Activity on the stage didn’t falter. The sultry creature closed one eye in an arrogant wink and then grasped the pole with one arm while she rotated her hips in slow circles. His eyes rolled like marbles in his head as his gaze followed her every move. Round and round and back again.
He swallowed hard, unable to pry his gaze away from her movement, mesmerized even further when she turned and presented her amazing heart-shaped ass to him. With another of those cock-strangling winks over her shoulder, she bent at the waist then squatted before slowly raising her body upright. The tight, toned skin beneath her shorts lured him into a daring game of peek-a-boo.
His fingers pressed the flesh of his palms as he fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. Temptation dared him to approach the stage, force her to bend back over, pull those pretty pink scraps of material down her body and cram his cock deep inside her while she gyrated beneath him. Holy Mary, Mother of God.
Unable to take any more torture, he stepped to the button on the wall and gave it a good slap. Silence coated the atmosphere. All four women turned their attention to him.
“Hi, Jackson,” Bri said finally. “Is Jake here?”
He nodded. “Upstairs.” Probably horny as hell.
“What about Mace?” Dara’s nonchalant question made him grin.
“No.”
Marnie cleared her throat. “How many of you were upstairs?”
He suddenly felt reprimanded. Leave it to Marnie to turn the tables. What did it matter how many of them were present? None of his crew straddled a pole.
“Just four. Jake, the two security guys, and me.”
His confidence in his defense began to build until her gaze dropped to his groin.
“And how long did you watch?”
“Long enough,” he mumbled.
“Well then.” Bri grabbed the bottle of wine. “We’ll give you two a moment.”
He waited until the door closed behind Alex’s posse to approach the stage and extend a hand. “Care to explain what just happened?”
She lifted one shoulder – one smooth, creamy shoulder – and then accepted his offer before stepping from the platform. “That, Detective, was a pole dance.”
He swallowed around the softball in his throat. A pole dance? A freaking pole dance? No, that was a full onslaught seduction.
And she knew it.
“Did you know I watched you from the security camera?”
“Not until you came into the room. I’ve never done that before and I’m not familiar with the ins-and-outs of the protocol.”
Ins-and-outs. Sonuvabitch. Although relieved she didn’t make a habit of prancing around nearly naked on a routine basis, his ego winced. He would’ve preferred to have heard she had tailored that dance just to entertain him and damn, he had certainly been entertained.
“Would you be willing to do it again?”
“Absolutely.”
His cock jumped and he raised an eyebrow, both at his reaction and her lack of hesitation.
“Not here,” she continued. “Bri probably knows where I can get a pole.”
“Probably,�
�� he mumbled.
Her soft giggle traveled the distance between them and suddenly he understood her quick agreement to climb back on the pole.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not much.”
“How much, Alex?”
“Alcohol has nothing to do with my performance. It was just a little harmless fun.”
He shifted and his hard-on thumped the inside of his thigh. Harmless? Yeah, right.
“I told you to stay at home behind a locked door.”
“Yes, you did.” Her quick agreement took him by surprise but before he could bask in a short victory, she barreled right over any chance of elaboration. “How did you find me anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He sighed and began to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
He continued in silence, focused on his task, until he reached the last button, pulled the shirt from his pants, and shucked it from his shoulders. Cool air caressed his overheated skin. Alex’s tongue darted from her mouth to sweep her bottom lip and he began to formulate an altogether new game plan. Arousal pushed him to toss the shirt to the floor, press his bare chest to hers and lay her out on the stage. Screw the pole.
Then he remembered who watched behind the security cameras. Rawlings was probably laughing his ass off.
With a heavy breath, he draped the shirt over her shoulders. “Put it on and button every single button.”
Her gaze remained glued to his chest and for half a second he thought she might actually follow directions.
“I’m dressed, Jackson.”
Of course not. “Put it on or I’ll do it for you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
She held his gaze for one full second longer and then sighed. “Fine.” She shoved her arms through the sleeves then buttoned all but three buttons.
He stepped closer to her and fastened the remaining buttons. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome but turnabout’s fair play.”
He frowned. “Huh?”
“You’re naked.” She nodded at the pole. “You wanna give it a whirl?”
“Hell no.” He placed a hand to the small of her back and nudged her to the door.
She stopped abruptly, blocking access to the knob. “We’re not leaving this room.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Any particular reason?”
“You’re bare-chested.”
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he countered.
“Okay.” She began to finger the buttons and wiggle beneath the cotton – almost completely out of her barely-there bra-top contraption.
He quickly stilled her motion. “Leave it on. I’ll have Rawlings bring me a security t-shirt.”
His ego roared as he signaled at the security camera. Obviously Alex didn’t share. He could totally relate; neither did he.
He braced himself on one hip against the wall while they waited on Jake’s delivery and noticed Alex’s gaze was once again focused on him, this time a slightly bit lower. His mouth suddenly became dry, his tongue heavy as he attempted to speak.
“You see something you like, counselor?”
She kept her gaze trained on his bare skin while she stepped close and placed her hands flat against his pectorals. “These are impressive, Detective.” Her soft fingers traveled the width of his chest, stroking the indentions of muscle, and then moved downward until they pressed into the valleys of his v-cut obliques. “But these give me so much more pleasure.”
His dick stretched until it threatened to exit his waistband, almost as if the tortured muscle thought it might actually manage to slide beneath her touch. Three, maybe four good strokes would end his misery. He almost groaned out loud as somehow, good sense managed to penetrate his lustful fog.
With a tight hold on his out-of-control libido, he reached between them, grasped both her hands, and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “As bad as I want you flat underneath me, you realize you’re providing everyone in the security room a wealth of information, don’t you?”
Her quick intake of breath and the solid pound of her heartbeat only make him impossibly harder. “I forgot about the camera,” she admitted softly.
Although he wanted to deny it, the recording had also slipped his mind. Was he disappointed? No way in hell. “I’ll do everything I can to smooth this over.”
“Thank you, Jackson.”
She stepped out of his hold and he attempted to unscramble his brain as his body cursed their separation. In order to cement the incredible memory of what had just transpired between them, he allowed his gaze to peruse her figure one last time. Her sexy little body tucked in his shirt just seemed right. He was suddenly almost jealous of the cotton. “I like this look, Counselor.”
She cocked her head to one side and twisted her lips. “I like you, Detective.”
“Even when I tell you how not so smart this was?”
“You mean stupid?”
“Not so smart.”
A grin creased her lips. “Yes, even then.”
“I’m adding this to my list.”
“You don’t have a list.”
“I do now.”
She shrugged. “Fine. Add it to the list.”
“Done.” He opened the door and nudged her back into the bright hallway. “Straight through the club, out the back door, and into my truck.”
He didn’t give her an opportunity to argue or resist as he took her hand and led the way.
“That’s listable,” she said from behind him.
“Tough.”
She only hesitated once they entered the dressing area. “I need to change clothes.”
“No.” He tightened his hold and continued toward the back door. “Keep the disguise until you get home.”
“Do you like to play dress-up?”
His nerves jumped while her soft giggle following her question slid over him like warm honey. He stopped with his hand on the knob, turned to face her, and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“You tell me.”
The mischievous sparkle in her eyes tightened his balls until they crowded the base of his cock. A sucker for self-punishment, he moved his gaze down her curves and then back up again, taking great care to appreciate every single inch. “As long as I’m dressed like the bad-ass cop and you’re dressed like that, I’m game.”
“Oh really?”
He followed her eyes with his own as they roamed from left to right across the width of his chest and then back again and resisted the urge to grin. If she meant to disguise the hunger that lingered there she’d failed miserably. In fact, if Alex weren’t the picture of sophistication, he was ninety-eight percent sure she’d drool like a rabid dog.
“Yep. And I’d most definitely arrest you for indecent exposure.”
“Something about that doesn’t sound pleasurable.”
“Believe me, you’d find extreme ecstasy in being arrested.”
“You’re proud of those handcuffs, aren’t you?”
“Extremely. Are you going to cooperate or do you need to try them on for size?”
“Need I remind you that you’re not a cop anymore?”
“Doesn’t matter. I still have handcuffs and the question still stands.”
Her tongue left her mouth to moisten her lips and his greedy cock jumped. Very carefully, he attempted to shift his weight into a more comfortable position. Impossible.
“I’ll cooperate,” she said finally. “For now.”
He released a long, slow, silent breath, grateful that she’d come to her senses. And although he really wanted to declare victory, he held back. Better to let her think she’d agreed on her own; he’d been dead serious about the handcuffs. Had she pushed him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to lock both of her wrists tight and swallow the key. What he didn’t tell her, however, was that once she was at his mercy, he’d bend her over the arm of one of those nice, smooth, leather chairs,
pop every single button of the cotton shirt that covered her, rip off her skin-tight shorts, and brand her as his own.
Now struggling with an even heavier dose of arousal, he reigned in his wayward thoughts and gave her hand a squeeze. “C’mon, I’ll take you home and tuck you in.”
“Judging from your stranglehold, I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
“Not really.”
Without releasing her, he opened the door, stepped outside, and led her approximately twenty steps to where he’d parked.
“No chance of escape,” she murmured.
He snickered in response and opened the passenger door as he glanced at her pink do-me shoes. “Need a boost?”
She lifted one leg, braced her foot solidly on the running board, and then raised her body until both feet rested on the surface with her perfect, heart-shaped ass inches from his face. His mouth watered when the shirt crept up to allow the tight, toned skin to peek from beneath her shorts as she bent to position herself in the seat.
“Guess not,” he mumbled. “Seatbelt.”
With a half-assed hold on his screaming libido, he shut the door and stomped around to the driver’s side as if his heavy footsteps might extinguish some of the fiery flames between them. Holy hell, the woman taunted him with her every single move.
Once seated beside her and behind locked doors, he willed himself to relax as he started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. He silently welcomed the short drive and exhaled again as he pulled into her driveway and exited the truck.
“No more late-night rendezvous,” he said as he opened her door and extended a hand.
“As I recall, you’ve participated in a few late-nighters with me.” She unfastened the seatbelt and batted at his hand. “Back up. I can get down.”
“Oh hell no.” Desperation kicked him in the ass; he couldn’t take any more teasing from that luscious ass.
Without a second thought, he wrapped both hands around her waist and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. Too late he realized that magnificent flesh hung at eye level again.
“Jackson,” she growled, “you have exactly three seconds to put me down before I plant these spikes somewhere other than in the ground.”
