Read Online Lover Undercover by Samanthe Beck - Free Book Online Page A

small, pink nipples tightened under his stare. The reaction seemed to startle her. She inhaled sharply and crossed her arms over her chest. Knowing it made him just like every fool who’d ever forked over money for lap dance didn’t stop him from wondering if she might be as affected by this as he was.
    “What now? Would Carlton would touch you?” Wait. Shit. What if she said yes? Trevor was only human, but there were lines here he couldn’t cross.
    “That’s not allowed,” she said breathlessly. Reluctantly , insisted the idiot in his head. “Aside from undressing me, Carlton preferred not to touch.”
    “Ah. That’s right. He liked to watch.”
    She nodded.
    “You put on a realistic show, and he watched?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, then. I’m all eyes.” Keeping them on her face, he leaned back in his chair and mentally recited the Law Enforcement Oath of Honor.
    She rose from his lap and slowly tipped her head back until her hat tumbled away. Then she crossed her arms behind her neck, lifted her hair, and let it cascade down her back. The Oath segued into a prayer for strength.
    Prayers wouldn’t be enough, he realized, when she splayed her hands on her rib cage and slowly slid them up her torso toward her breasts. At the last minute, however, she hesitated. Her eyes drifted to his. “Do you want me to…?”
    The cynical part of his brain took charge, because he didn’t have any prayers left. “You’ve got the innocent, virginal act down pat. It’s surprisingly effective.” Then the cynic surrendered and all he had left was the truth. “Hell, yes, I want you to,” he whispered. “I might die if you don’t.”
    Maybe Stacy got off on tortured admissions, or maybe this was all part of the act, but she closed her eyes, ran her hands over her breasts, and gave a little whimper that vibrated all the way through him.
    “Like this?” she whispered.
    “That’s good. I mean…” Shit. “If that’s what Carlton liked.”
    She strummed her fingers over the tight peaks and bit her lip as if to hold back a moan. He stiffened in the chair and reached for her before he caught himself. “Jesus. Sorry.”
    If she heard him, she gave no sign. She seemed to be off in her own world, somewhere beyond those closed eyes. Real or simulated? Hard to say. Mesmerizing? Definitely. When she sucked her finger into her mouth, and then rubbed her nipple, transferring moisture to the glistening peak, he exhaled harshly, sending a burst of air over the tip. The skin puckered, and a moan echoed low in her throat.
    He groaned and shifted in the chair. Before he knew what she had in mind, she pressed her hips down and rode his throbbing cock. In his overtaxed imagination, there were no barriers between them. No lacy G-string, no dark-blue suit pants, just a slow, slick slide of heated flesh against heated flesh.
    They had to stop. He had to—oh, God. Her palm swept down her fluttering belly until her fingers found the soaked lace of her thong. With one hand braced on his shoulder for balance, she arched her back, thrust her breasts forward, and proceeded to rub and stroke herself into a frenzy.
    She was giving him, hands down, the sexiest show he’d ever seen. Her uncensored, uninhibited movements sure as hell didn’t look like an act. Didn’t feel like an act. Worse, he didn’t want this to be an act. The last thought shocked him into action. Abruptly, he widened his legs. The move forced her thighs farther apart. “Stacy, we have to stop—”
    Too late. Head back and teeth clenched, her entire body tightened against his. Her free hand clenched his shirtfront while the busy hand between her legs stilled. She sucked in a quick breath—as if she’d just walked into the biggest surprise of her life—and then came with a long, shattering cry.
    In that moment, Trevor knew that he was completely and utterly fucked.
    …
    “That was some performance.”
    Trevor’s sardonic comment cut through Kylie’s churning thoughts.