Read Online Face of Danger by Roxanne St. Claire - Free Book Online Page B

snorted softly. “That doesn’t seem to go both ways.”
    “Are you complaining?” She laughed, low and sweet. “Just forgive me if I’m a little silly tonight. I haven’t slept for two days, and I won an Oscar last night. I’m feeling—wild.”
    Her voice, her eyes, her essence was Vivi. But everything else was something else altogether. Something raw and sexy.
    Still, damn it all. He wasn’t sure.
    “I know Cara Ferrari won an Oscar. And you”—he pointed at her—“might win another for this. So, let’s cut the crap and—”
    She put one hand over his mouth and unlatched her seat belt with the other, rolling closer, pressing those barely covered breasts against his biceps.
    “You call this crap?” she whispered, the warmth of her breath tickling his ear.
    “I call it game over, Vi—”
    She snapped up the armrest and flipped one boot-clad leg over his thighs. “This is so not a game.” She slid her leg right over his erection.
    “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.” He ground out the words as his dick stiffened against the pressure.
    “I’m trying to prove”—the Ferrari tattoo rode right over his erection—“who I am.”
    “I know who you are.” Didn’t he?
    “Only one woman in the world is known for…” She climbed right on top of him, wedging her knees on either side of his legs and arching her back just enough to put her breasts inches from his mouth. “The most memorable lap dance in film history.”
    He almost laughed, but his blood had done another brain drain and his cock hummed like an electric buzzsaw.
    “It wasn’t that long ago, one of my earliest films.” She kneeled high enough that her lace crotch didn’t quite touch his growing tent. “So I remember all the moves.” It took some powerful thigh muscles to hold the position, but she didn’t flinch.
    Could Vivi do that? All that skateboarding made her strong, but this was crazy. Everything about this was crazy. He had to know who was doing this to him. Reaching up to the hat, she dodged again, leaving him with nothing but a handful of her hair, thick, smooth and definitely real, or firmly attached.
    But some fake hair felt real. The wisp of a thought took hold of what was left of his working brain cells. Fake hair. Fake hair was why he was here. But before he could process that thought, she flipped her hair out of his touch, flinging the locks over her shoulder like a weapon she was completely familiar with.
    “You know the rules, honey. No hands. Just eyes. Just… watch. Just feel. Just lose control.”
    He tried to shake his head.
    “Never lose control, do you?”
    “Rarely.”
    “Let’s make this one of those rare times, then.” She breathed the last word, rolling her hips achingly close, then away.
    “What the hell are you doing?” His voice was rough with arousal. And frustration. And dismay. And—shit—a complete loss of sanity and control.
    “You have to ask? What do they teach you in that FBI academy?”
    “Control.”
    She laughed softly and leaned over him, her breasts against his chest, her mouth to his ear. “You know what I say?”
    “I can’t imagine.”
    “Control is overrated.”
    Now if that wasn’t a Vivi-ism, what was? One more time, he peeked under the veil. If this wasn’t Vivi, he was in a boatload of trouble. But if it was…
    He was in a different boatload of trouble.
    She pressed her mouth against his ear. “Just don’t say my name. Ever.”
    What name? Before he could get the question out, she rose again on her knees, her fingers brushing over a button on the armrest. Instantly, music came out of tiny speakers built into the chair behind his ears, filling the small cabin with a pulsing, bass-heavy song. A slow song, a female artist, he had no idea who or what, but Vivi—Cara—
someone
, moved her body in perfect rhythm.
    She undulated and dipped, her crotch grazing his erection, her breasts rising and falling with each beat, eachbreath. His cock hardened to a