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Alyssa had indicated. As soon as she finished whatever the hell she was

doing and talked to him, he‟d tell her all bets were off. Hell, he‟d pay her for

her inconvenience.

Because if he stayed, his dick would get him into trouble. He‟d have

her naked and be between her legs in two minutes. Or less. And that would

be bad. He was looking for Mrs. Right, someone uncomplicated who

wanted children as much as he did and would help him keep his beast at

bay. Alyssa Devereaux, stripper divine, was definitely
not
that woman.

Suddenly, music pounded through the speakers, blaring with a

naughty beat, a wicked slide of horn. Every note suggested sex—the hot,

sweaty, no-boundaries variety.

The type he‟d had with her and wanted again.

Pulling his loose shirt over his lap to cover his erection, Luc watched

as Alyssa strutted onto the stage. She‟d piled her straight platinum hair into

some wild arrangement on top of her head and donned a sequined bolero

jacket in red. He was dying to see what she wore underneath. The way she

moved was an invitation . . . and a promise.

She planted her stiletto-clad feet in front of him with a decisive step,

then swung her hips, making a sensual circle. She flattened her palm

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Shayla Black

across the bare skin of her tanned abdomen—and began lowering it. She

reached down . . . so damn slowly. Luc‟s breath caught in his chest until,

finally, she touched herself.
Oh, hell
.

Her fingers glided between her legs, and she tossed her head back as

if she were in utter ecstasy.

Luc swallowed. And started to sweat.

With a jerk of her head, Alyssa snapped her gaze back to him, her

eyes like focused blue lasers jolting him to his toes.

Damn it, his nine weeks of dating church secretaries, interior

decorators, and elementary school teachers showed. Not one of them had

incited an erection. During that time, he‟d awakened in the middle of the

night more than once, sweating, his dick in his hand and Alyssa‟s name on

his lips. Now, after less than five minutes in her presence, he felt ready to

explode.

He had to think about the
right F
words—future and family.

Unfortunately, with Alyssa near, the urge to fuck her again kept killing his

good intentions.

In the next moment, she released the soft strands of her hair, which

hugged her shoulders, clung to her breasts, flirted with her waist. Then she

peeled off the little jacket and left it carelessly on the floor, exposing a tiny

half top Luc could swear showed the shadows of her areolas. She stepped

over the jacket and strutted toward the pole in the center of the stage.

When she gripped it with both hands and undulated against it, pressing it to

the juncture of her thighs, Luc damn near choked.

And still she continued to stare as if she danced just for him.

The music swelled, wailing with sensuality and suggestion. Alyssa

upped her game, sticking a finger into the wet cavern of her mouth and

sucking. More blood rushed to Luc‟s cock at the memory of her mouth

around him, her tongue slick across the head, inciting a sizzle that burned

his whole body. Even months later, he could feel the lash of her tongue, the

hot silk of her mouth. He shuddered.

With a kittenish smile, Alyssa popped her finger from her mouth and

drew the damp fingertip down her cleavage. Then her palm took over,

smoothing her right breast with an invitation to pure sin on her gorgeous

face.

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Shayla Black

Dear God, no wonder she‟d built herself a little empire here in

Lafayette. The woman was a walking wet dream and did her job well. No

red-blooded, heterosexual male could withstand such intense teasing and

stay sane.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luc saw Alyssa‟s employee, the one

she‟d touched earlier, sidle closer to the stage. With a quick turn of his

head, Luc quickly saw that the mountain in the tight black T-shirt was

tense, panting, and sporting a bulge that said he wanted to get busy.

Luc wished he could say that didn‟t piss him off. But he‟d be lying.

Then, as Luc‟s stare returned to the stage, he damn near forgot his

own name.

Alyssa turned her back on him and bent at the waist, staring at him

over one mostly bare shoulder with a fuck-me look that stunned him. Luc

gripped the arms of his chair, willing himself to stay in it, not charge up on

the stage, lay her flat, and get inside her again this instant.

The spaghetti strap of her little top was falling down her arm. And that

indecent skirt . . . With her bent over, the hint of the bare ass cheeks

flashed from beneath the black silk. Her garters were a come-hither red.

Her thong—he could see only a scrap of it—matched.

Soft fingers teased their way up her shin, her thigh, and disappeared

under that little skirt. Her eyes half closed, her sultry mouth parted on a

silent moan of seeming self-pleasure. His entire body tensed.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Her hands swept up her undulating hips, gathering the skirt with them.

She tugged at the little black garment, and it fluttered to the floor. The

tanned halves of her backside, bisected by a bit of red lace, crashed fresh

lust into his chest, making it damn hard to breathe.

Alyssa had a gorgeous ass. But he‟d known that. Luc squeezed his

eyes shut so the visual temptation of her bare flesh didn‟t taunt him.

Memories of tunneling into her ass pounded him instead. Her perfect

willingness to take him any way he‟d wanted. The tightness of her damp,

musky body clasping him. The sweat dripping off of them as he‟d thrust

deep. Her moans.

Christ, the burning lust had to stop—at least long enough to tell her

that he wouldn‟t be staying.

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Shayla Black

Praying the torture would end soon, Luc opened his eyes. And sucked

in a breath.

Alyssa flashed him a naughty smile of invitation as she ripped her

small top right down the front to reveal a red demi bra that barely covered

her nipples. Hard nipples. Pink, melt-in-his-mouth nipples he remembered

all too well.

Luc squirmed in his chair—and nearly went off like a teenage boy.

Beyond aroused, his cock was so sensitive, the feel of denim sliding

against the head nearly had him coming.

He had to leave. Forget the polite conversation; he‟d send her an email with an explanation. Because if he stayed, he would shove his longterm goals aside and fuck her senseless.

As he stood, Luc mentally reviewed a list of chefs—female ones—he

could pay to assist Alyssa this week. A short list, but a few durable names.

He‟d send idiotproof recipes . . .

The red bra dropped to the ground at Alyssa‟s feet.

Her large breasts were as golden as the rest of her body and swayed

gracefully with her every undulation, every step. Those nipples he

remembered so damn well beckoned,
Taste me
.

Turn away!
he demanded of himself.

His legs didn‟t move.

Alyssa danced her way down the stairs, holding her breasts up in

offering. She pranced past her aroused employee and shot the man a

mirthful smile as she caressed the side of his face. Luc tensed when the

beefy guy tried to snatch her up in his arms. But Alyssa was too fast and

spun out of his grip, toward Luc.

The damp spot at the front of her thong kicked him in the gut. He

clenched his fists as she danced closer, closer . . .

She dropped to her knees before him and looked up. Their gazes

locked. She panted. Hard. Despite his jeans, her hot breaths caressed his

cock. Release broiled in his balls, and he hadn‟t touched her once.

There was no way he could stop himself from reaching out to tangle

his fingers into her hair and bringing her mouth closer. Except when he did,

he grabbed air. Alyssa had already strutted away, that golden body of hers

burned into his brain.

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Shayla Black

The music boomed one final time as she artfully fell to the stage, her

body sprawled with legs parted, knees bent, hands half covering her

breasts, her back arched . . . as if she were ready for him to cover her, take

her.

Luc took a step toward her. Then he forced himself to stop and

breathe deep.

Self-destruction wasn‟t his bag, and he wasn‟t going to get caught up

in the trap now.

Beside him, the beefy bouncer clapped wildly and whistled like a man

possessed. “That was hot, boss lady. Damn!”

Alyssa stood and smiled, her arms falling to her sides, as if totally

unaware or unconcerned that she bared her breasts to her employee and

her guest chef.

She did this for a living,
he reminded himself. She displayed her body

for strangers—and did who knew what else with them. Why should it matter

to her who saw her tits?

“Thanks! I‟ve been working on the routine for a while.”

“Toward the end there, if you need to fall at someone‟s feet, I‟ll

volunteer.” Her bouncer winked.

“I‟ll keep that in mind.”

She reached for the bolero jacket, thrust her arms into the capped

sleeves, then covered her breasts with the lapels. Sort of. The garment had

no front clasp, so it hung open, flashing cleavage and the generous swells

of her breasts as she made her way down the stairs.

“Mr. Traverson, good to see you again.” She held out her hand to him.

She expected him to touch her in a businesslike fashion? Luc steeled

himself against the electric current that buzzed through him anytime he

touched this woman. But no amount of bracing diluted the jolt that shocked

him when he took her hand.

“Ms. Devereaux. We need to talk. Is there someplace quieter? More . .

.” Luc glanced over at the bouncer‟s curious, intrusive stare. “Private?”

“Tyler.” She snapped her fingers. “Back to work. It‟s four, right? Open

the doors.” Then she turned her stare back to Luc. “Follow me.”

As if he could have resisted when she turned that gorgeous ass in his

direction and pranced away . . . Impossible.

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Shayla Black

He followed her backstage, then down a hall that had been painted

black. Red lights shined overhead, giving the back a Goth feel that

contrasted with the public area‟s warmth. Then they ducked into a room at

the end. White. Soothing with black-and-white photos on the wall. Splashes

of red color in silk flowers and a desk chair.

Alyssa held the door wide, then closed it behind him once he‟d

entered. He realized that none of the club‟s other sounds could be heard.

He cocked his head, listening to the crisp silence.

“Soundproof,” she confirmed, perching her hip on the edge of the desk

in a relaxed pose that somehow managed to scream sex. “Hard as hell to

be bookkeeping at two in the morning with the Pussycat Dolls blasting out

your ears.”

That made sense, but had nothing to do with this meeting. “Listen, I—”

“Before we get down to business, can I ask your opinion of my

number? I haven‟t danced around a pole in two years. I‟m out of practice.”

She hadn‟t danced around a pole in two years? Wow . . . He didn‟t

frequent gentlemen‟s clubs; he found nothing gentlemanly about them, so

he had nothing to compare her to. But if she thought her performance was

out of practice, Luc decided he‟d likely have a heart attack if ever he saw

Alyssa in what she considered to be prime form. “Why ask me?”

She frowned. “Other than Tyler, who likes anything I say or do, you

were the only man watching. I need a male opinion on this. Did it work for

you?”

And then some
. “Um . . . It was good.”

“Good.” Alyssa sighed. “I need it to be great. Damn! Tonight is Sexy

Sirens‟ fifth anniversary, and I promised to perform. I don‟t really do it

anymore. But I‟ll try harder when I take the stage later. Thanks for the

opinion.”

If she tried any harder, she‟d incite instant orgasm in half the audience

in the first thirty seconds.

“So how have you been?” Her smile lit up her whole face, the whole

room. Hell, his whole body.

“Fine. Very busy. You?”

“Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “Crazy busy! I had no idea the restaurant

business was so tough. You‟d know all about it, of course. But I‟m still

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Shayla Black

learning. Anyway, I‟m glad you‟re here. I‟ve been looking forward to

watching you in action.” Her smile was a tease in itself. “In the kitchen, of

course.”

His body temperature went up again. If he didn‟t leave soon, she

would see action in the kitchen and anywhere else she would consent to let

him fuck her. But how could he say this without upsetting her? He definitely

owed her.

“I hear your cousin got married,” she commented.

Luc tried not to wince. “Yes. Deke and Kimber were married a couple

of months ago.”

Alyssa paused, cocked her head, assessed him with those cool blue

eyes. “You okay with that? I know you had a relationship with her, too.”

Yes, one that had ended with the near death of his greatest dream.

He‟d engaged in a wild ménage with Kimber and his cousin, knowing that