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.