He stared at her breasts, didn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t. Slowly she turned her hips from side to side, teasing him with glimpses of her black satin-covered cleavage. “Is that what you’d like, Nate-dawg? Because it can be arranged. I do love a good game.”
Chuckling, he settled against the back of the overstuffed chair, looking very much the relaxed, cocky bastard. “I bet you do. And call me Nate.”
“Well, Nate, I’m Ginger. And I’ve been a naughty, naughty girl.” She moved in closer, her face directly in his and his minty breath fanned across her lips. She’d bet his mouth tasted just as good. “I need to be taught right from wrong so I won’t be a bad girl anymore. Can you help me?”
He stared at her hard, visibly swallowed. Lowering her lids, she shifted toward him, tempted to taste him. Just one little taste of that sensual mouth before she started to dance for him...
The man actually had the nerve to grin and shake his head. “Do guys actually fall for that act you put on?”
With an indignant huff she stood, glaring down at him from narrowed eyes. “Listen, jerk off, I’m playing the part of a fantasy. You know, where you use your imagination and pretend I’m naughty, maybe even get a little thrill out of it? Though you don’t look like the type who gets thrills. Or has an imagination, for that matter.”
Jeez, the guy was a jerk. She turned, glancing around the suite. The entire night was giving off a hinky vibe, and she didn’t like it. In fact, she was gonna bail out of the party right now, screw Ginger, forget the tips and the other girls, since they clearly forgot about her.
Not like she was going to do this for her sister again, so there was no bridge to burn...
“Hey, wait a minute.” Strong, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, keeping her from bolting and she glanced down to find Jerk-dawg watching her, a flicker of—was that concern?—in his dark gaze.
Why should he care how she felt? He’d been slinging insults at her from the moment they met.
“What?” Janelle tried to ignore the tingles of awareness washing over her body at his touch. Pulse kicking up a notch, her breathing grew shallow when she felt the subtle brush of his thumb sweeping the inside of her wrist.
“Dance for me.” Eyebrows lifting, he cocked his head toward her. His eyes glittered in the darkness and his grip tightened on her, firm fingers pressing into her tender skin. “Forgive my earlier comments. I promise I’ll behave.”
She contemplated him, angry that she was weak enough to give in. “Fine. No touching allowed though.” Jerking out of his hold, she wobbled on her precarious heels and she blew out a harsh breath, steadying herself. Why did he change his mind so fast?
He threw her for a loop and she didn’t like it.
“Of course.” He held his hands up in front of him, though a mocking smile still lingered on his too sensuous lips. He’d seen her fumble and clearly found it amusing.
He wasn’t going to find her dancing amusing. Oh no, he was going to like it, want more of it. Too damn much.
A wicked smile curved her lips and she rested her hands on her hips, her skin tightening in anticipation.
“Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Hmm, that’s what you think.
* * * *
Something wasn’t right. Ginger Peters’ behavior was completely off.
Nathan Banks watched her with a wary eye as she turned around, her short flippy skirt doing wondrous things for her pert ass. Like making him want to see it in all its bare glory, touch it. Feel her shudder beneath his hands.
She looked better, too. More aware, more alive and full of fire. Usually she moved around Billy D’s nightclub with a dead look in her eyes, seemingly unaware of what went on around her.
Tonight Ginger was sassy, a little argumentative and glowing with a sexual aura he’d never noticed before. His cock certainly noticed. It strained against the fly of his jeans uncomfortably and he shifted in his chair, feeling like an ass.
He was not at this private bachelor party to become sexually aroused by freaking Ginger, of all people. He needed to get to her, talk to her about her boss Billy Diaz, the man who killed his partner.
Now, tonight, it was finally going to happen.
So why take her up on the offer of a dance? He’d had her moments ago, his fingers circled around her slim wrist, the look in her eyes like a trapped animal’s. He could’ve dragged her outside and demanded answers. That had been his plan when he’d somehow wrangled the invitation to this stupid bachelor party for a bunch of overgrown frat-types that frequented the nightclub he’d been staking out the past month.
His baser instincts wanted to watch her move seductively. He’d only seen Ginger dance from afar, on stage, and she rarely gave lap dances. Tonight was his opportunity to have her close, smell her fragrant skin, feel her touch him. He felt like an ass, but he wanted it all.
She started to move, the subtle sway of her hips rocking in time to the sensual beat of the music. Her head tilted back, the ends of her white-blonde hair brushing the bare skin of her lower back and he was hypnotized, frozen in the chair.
A better man would make her stop. A better man would tell her he was a cop, he was conducting an important investigation, and he needed to talk to her.
For tonight, he wasn’t that man. And he wasn’t proud of that fact, either.
Ginger turned around, a predatory gleam in her eyes. She nimbly undid each button on her shirt, one by one, revealing a teasing glimpse of flesh. She shrugged out of the shirt with a graceful shift of her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Golden skin glowed in the soft dim light, plump breasts threatening to spill out of the black satin cups of her bra.
His mouth went dry and his cock jerked in appreciation. She smiled as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, what she did to him and she took a step closer, her knees brushing against his.
“Ready for that lap dance?”
Her sweet, sultry voice washed over him and something within him shifted hard. Christ, he didn’t know if he could take it.
Hell if he wanted to come in his pants like an overeager teenager.
He answered her with a jerky nod and she wasted no time straddling him, her legs bent and knees on either side of his thighs. The skirt rose with her position, revealing her firm thighs and he held his breath, wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of her panties. Would they match her bra?
“Remember the rules,” she murmured, leaning in closer, her breasts at perfect level with his mouth. He licked his lips, wishing he could nudge the fabric away from her chest and reveal her naked flesh. “You can’t touch me. I can touch you all I want, but the minute you lay a finger on me, I’m gone. You understand?”
“Yeah.” His voice was a scratchy rasp, completely unfamiliar to his ears and he shook his head, embarrassed. Feeling completely undone by a freaking strung out stripper. Though if he studied her closely, she didn’t look as wasted as she normally did. Must’ve been the lighting—or maybe it was his lust glazed eyes.
He never thought this could happen, this sudden attraction for Ginger, of all women. Yet he awaited her next move with all the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning.
She held out her hand, palm up, a wary expression on her face. “The money, please? I can’t start without it.”
Of course, like she’d do this for free. It should’ve been the slap of reality he needed to push her off his lap and do his damn job.
Instead, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a roll of bills provided by the department for use in his investigation. A high roller hanging out at an expensive gentleman’s club needed to look the part, and a wad of flashy cash was the perfect prop.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the money and it reassured him. Reminded him who he dealt with and what motivated her.
Hell, her mind probably raced at the thought of how much drugs she could buy with the money she’d make tonight. Ginger’s junkie reputation was notorious throughout the club. One o
f the most popular dancers at Billy D’s, her drug problem was apparently not an issue with her employment.
Withdrawing two crisp one hundred dollar bills, he slipped them into her hand, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her palm. Her fingers closed around his and the money and he glanced up, found her watching him with unmistakable interest in her startling clear blue eyes.
“Thank you.” Her hand slipped away from his grasp and she tucked the money into a tiny pocket on the front of her skirt. She zipped the pocket closed and gently rested her hands on his shoulders, her hips starting to shift in a slow circle. The hem of her skirt brushed against the fly of his jeans and he drew in a swift breath, making her smile.
“You like that Nate-dawg?” She drawled his name, the stupid nickname his new friends had given him. Her lush mouth curved sexily and he nodded mutely.
She smoothed her hands along his shoulders, moving up until they sunk into his hair. Cupping him, her fingers massaged his scalp, her hips gyrating against his, slow and easy. The deep cleavage of her breasts beckoned him. Tempted him to dip his fingers between them and see if her skin was as soft as it appeared.
Her movements became faster and she released her hold on him, lifting her arms and thrusting her chest toward him. She flipped her ponytail with quick fingers before moving her arms behind her back, playing with the fastening of her bra.
Nate waited with agonizing anticipation, waiting for those luscious breasts to spill. Breasts that he’d seen from afar multiple times but had suddenly become beyond intriguing up close and personal.
Breasts that were inflated, surgically enhanced like so many of the strippers she worked with. Normally that didn’t turn him on. He wasn’t a fan of artificial, too large breasts. But tonight, for whatever reason he couldn’t figure out, he was definitely interested.
His body tense, his cock all but gasping beneath the confines of his jeans, he waited in choked agony, secretly enjoying the game she played.
The skinny straps of her bra slid down her slim arms and she held the cups in place, a teasing expression on her face. “You wanna see?”
“I definitely wanna see,” he said, leaning against the headrest so he could take it all in. He yearned to clasp her about her slim waist and grind his hips into hers, but he held himself back. Knew he had to. It wouldn’t be right and besides. She’d leave and he’d never get to see those magical tits.
One strap slipped to the crook of her elbow, then the other strap fell, her hands still clutching the satin cups. A subtle shift and then her hands dropped, the bra falling away. Revealing the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Smooth golden skin stretched over the full globes, topped with long, rosy pink nipples. Her nipples stood at attention, begging for his touch. His mouth. They were perfect, just the right size, a nice handful for each palm, pert and high but not too high...
Nate sat up straight, awareness lancing through his sex-fogged mind. Ginger didn’t have perfect natural breasts. She had big phony ones that nearly reached her chin. They looked completely out of place on her skinny, strung out frame.
This woman, who looked exactly like Ginger, was not Ginger.
Wrapping his hands around her slim waist, he stood, lifting her off him and setting her aside. She stumbled, her high heels hindering her footing. She would’ve fallen to the ground if he hadn’t caught her.
Who was this woman? No wonder he had the unusual reaction. It wasn’t Ginger.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice was gruff, he sounded downright hostile but he didn’t care. He felt tricked, betrayed, upset he lost his chance to question the one person he needed to further his investigation.
He was also relieved, excited and unbearably aroused—oh yeah, and confused. This woman had to be related to Ginger. She looked so much like her, it was uncanny. Identical twin maybe?
Nate frowned. How had he missed that important bit of info?
“Hey, what are you doing? Get your hands off me!” She jerked out of his grip, eyes flashing blue fire.
Even angry, she was fucking gorgeous.
“You’re not Ginger Peters.”
She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed, bottom lip trembling. She’d been called out and caught. “Yes, I am. Who the hell are you? And how do you know my name?”
“Trust me, you’re not Ginger. You’re nothing like her. Now tell me who you really are.”
“No.” Glancing down, she gasped as if she’d forgotten she was bare breasted. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide them and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Fine.” Nate reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “You don’t want to answer my questions then you’re coming with me.”
Her eyes widened and she backed up a step. “What are you doing?”
Nate glanced around, hoping like hell no one noticed. The room was virtually empty and dark, so he moved quickly, grasping both of her wrists behind her back with one hand.
She glared up at him, fear and surprise clouding her gaze. God, she was beautiful. If this was a different situation, if they had met any other way, he would’ve asked her out. Something.
At the very least, he would’ve tried to get in her pants.
Her hands jerked against his grip, bringing him back to reality. “Fuck you, let me go!”
“Shut up,” he hissed, holding her tighter.
“You have no right to do this.” She tried to escape again but he held her so tight, she was going nowhere.
“I have every right to do this. I’m a cop.” His lips settled into a thin line. “And I’m placing you under arrest.”
Chapter Two
“You’re coming with me.” Nate repeated, glancing around the room once more. Releasing his grip on her wrists, he grabbed her again, his fingers curling around her upper arm.
“No way are you a cop.” Janelle glared at him, anger overtaking arousal. What had she gotten into? No, what did Ginger get herself into that a cop was following her?
If she got arrested, she could lose her job.
She scanned the carpet quickly, her gaze alighting on the crumpled white shirt lying there. Bending quickly at the knees, she snatched it up with one hand and slipped the shirt around her shoulders, covering her chest from his lingering gaze.
Just moments ago, she’d been tempted. Having him close, the warmth from his big body seeped into hers, his intoxicating scent made her dizzy. Seeing his reaction while she’d taken off her bra had given her an exhilarating sense of power. His eyes glazed with lust, his entire body tense and poised to spring.
Her naked breasts, nipples tight and so close to his beautiful mouth had nearly been her undoing. The exquisite rush of adrenaline that had filled her, fizzing through her veins when she saw those sensuous lips part. She imagined moving closer, her nipples brushing against his mouth, his tongue sneaking out to lick...
A shiver moved through her and she glanced up to find Nate the cop glaring at her, his eyes full of questions she didn’t want to answer. And he was so tall. She had four-inch heels on and she didn’t consider herself short. The man was a complete giant.
“You want proof I’m a cop?” Nate curved his arm around her waist, hand tentatively pressing against her lower back as he angled her toward the French doors.
“Absolutely. And where do you think you’re taking me?” Her reserve began to melt at his touch, much to her disgust. She let him walk her toward the double doors without a fight, his gaze intense as he scanned the room covertly. A sudden air of determination edged with danger shimmered off him.
Very cop-like behavior. He had to be telling the truth.
“Out on the balcony. I need to ask you a few questions.” He opened the door, allowing her to walk through it first and a little shiver shot down her spine. A regular gentleman. She didn’t know they still existed.
Hello, a gentleman cop who was looking for her sister. She needed to get over the warm fuzzy feelings she had toward this too handsome man. No way could any
of this be good.
“What do you want to know?” She turned to face him, buttoning her shirt with fast fingers so he couldn’t catch anymore glimpses of bare skin.
His eyes kept dropping to the movements of her hands, his gaze lingering on her chest, her breasts and she cleared her throat, hoping he’d get the hint.
He did. A steely glint lit his dark eyes and he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “Where’s Ginger?”
“I’m Ginger.”
“Cut with the bullshit, I know you’re not Ginger. Who are you?”
Her eyebrows lifted but she didn’t answer. If he was smart enough, he’d figure it out.
“Her sister?”
A single brow lifted. He was getting warmer.
“Twin sister?” His brows rose as well.
“Identical twin sister,” Janelle answered, rolling her eyes. “If you’re such a great cop, why didn’t you know about me?”
“What’s your name?” He ignored her question, his mouth grim as he ran his hand along his cheek, over his jaw. She swore she heard the rasp of his stubble-covered skin against his palm, could imagine his face pressed against hers...against the inside of her thighs. Tickling her, making her yelp with pleasurable pain when he licked her between her legs...
No. Janelle shook her head, pushing the sexual thoughts straight out of her mind. Not going to happen. She didn’t need this complication. And being sexually attracted to him would make it worse. She’d questions as vaguely as possible and get the hell out of there.
“Do you have some sort of identification or a badge you can show me? Shouldn’t you read me my rights or whatever?” she asked.
“You’re not under arrest.”
“But you said I was.” Relief surged through her. Thank God. The very last thing she needed to deal with was an arrest record.
“I lied.” He shrugged those impossibly wide shoulders with a nonchalance that made her want to slap him.
Her life was on the line and all he could was shrug.
A hiss of impatience escaped. “Show me your badge, something that proves you’re police. I’m not saying another word until you do.”
Strip Tease Page 2
