“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Ry said.

This stunning creature was the admin assistant he’d barely even noticed. So much for being a PI and former cop with honed powers of observation.

No woman had ever driven him so wild with lust. Hayley was a grown man’s wet dream.

“And you’re wearing too many clothes,” she said, tossing that gleaming waterfall of hair and reaching for the top button of his shirt.

Her fingers brushed his skin as she undid the top few buttons. That simple touch resonated in his overloaded cock, making him shudder. “That’s enough.” He pulled her hands away and hauled the shirt over his head.

She let out a soft gasp and her eyes glittered as she studied his naked torso. Her hands followed the path of her gaze, the soft pads of her fingers warm and seductive, the sharper scratch of artificial fingernails pricking arousal.

Every wicked sexual fantasy he’d imagined back in the strip club was coming true, and he was fucking grateful. But if he got any more turned on, he was going to burst.

He grabbed her hands and pulled them away. “Sorry, Hayley, you’re gonna have to live without foreplay this time. I gotta have you. If that’s not okay, say so now.”

Her eyes, fringed by long, thick artificial lashes, gleamed golden and catlike in the moonlight. She didn’t say a word, just grabbed his belt buckle and undid it.

There was a God, and tonight he was looking out for Ry.

Hands getting in each other’s way, they struggled to get him out of his pants and boxer briefs. He barely retained enough sense to pull a condom from his wallet and force it over the biggest erection he’d ever had.

She stared. Swallowed. Reached out.

If she touched him, he’d explode.

He evaded her hand. Pulled off her bra and thong.

The sight of her in the park in the middle of the night, stripped nude for his eyes only, made his hips pump and drops of pre-cum surge.

He grabbed her for a deep, tongue-thrusting kiss, then they tumbled down, half on the jacket and coat, half on the grass.

Side by side, their limbs intertwined, she pressed hungrily against his shaft, squirming and rubbing.

He rolled so she was on the bottom.

She lifted her legs to twine high on his hips, opening herself for him.

Bracing his weight on one forearm, he reached between their bodies to stroke her sex. Plump pussy lips, soaking wet. A firm little clit.

When he rubbed it gently, she gasped. “Now, Ry. Come inside me now.”

He probed with the head of his cock and she gasped again, legs tightening their grip.

With a groan of relief, he accepted the invitation and surged into her.

On that one stroke she came apart around him, crying out as her body gripped him in the convulsive spasms of her orgasm.

It was more than he could take. His whole body was taut with the need to come.

He pulled out almost all the way, then let go, plunging deep and hard inside her. Exploding so vigorously he almost lost consciousness.

Dimly he was aware of their bodies softening, the tension fading into relaxation.

He’d collapsed on top of her. Firm breasts pressed against his chest and the steamy heat of her sheath gripped him.

Heavy. He must be too heavy.

Summoning the strength to move, he lifted off of her, easing out.

Hayley sprawled, chest heaving, breath rasping softly in her throat. Beautiful. So beautiful.

She watched him with an intent but enigmatic expression. He knew she was waiting for him to say something.

But what could he say? How could he explain what had happened tonight? It had been insanity. Lust.

Magic.

He propped himself on an elbow and stroked the tangled silk of her hair back from her face. “Sorry that was so rough.”

She raised her arms, hands behind her head to pillow it, a gesture that tightened her breasts. “Rough worked for me.”

“I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.” In fact, his cock was stirring again.

A corner of her mouth moved. Not a smile, but a question. “Hmm. Watching arouses you?”

“Not really. Strip clubs, porn movies…” He shrugged. “I’m not big into the voyeur thing. Bottom line, I’d rather do than watch.” He gave her a rueful grin. “And when I do, I usually have a little more finesse.”

“Like I said, it worked for me.” Her tone aimed for flippant but didn’t quite make it. “So, why did tonight’s show turn you on?”

There was an edge of seriousness, maybe uncertainty, in her voice that got to him. That made him share the truth rather than joke around. “The show didn’t.” He leaned over to drop a kiss on her soft lips. “You did.”

She didn’t respond to the kiss, and her brows rose slightly. “Is that true, Ry? I don’t need pretty words. I’d rather have honesty.”

Pretty words? He didn’t do pretty words. “It was you. From the moment you stepped onstage.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, stroked the frown line that marred her smooth forehead. “Damned if I know. Because I know you? Yet, obviously, I never knew you. What you did on that stage…” He gave a small laugh. “This is going to sound crazy, but it was like you were dancing just for me.” That was probably what made a dancer great. She made each man in the audience believe in a personal connection.

His cock was, again, hard.

Both corners of Hayley’s lips curved, and her eyes danced with humor. “Uh-huh? Well, maybe I was.”

He chuckled. “What did you say about pretty words? I don’t need a fake compliment, Hayley. You didn’t even know I was at the club.”

“True.” The amusement was still on her face, like she had a private joke.

“You make me feel like a crappy PI,” he confessed. “You’ve been working for us what? Three, four months?”

“Thereby proving your point,” she said dryly. “Six and a half.”

Ry winced. “Sorry. I noticed your efficiency, but…” He shifted position, the grass cool under his hip, and ran his fingers through the waves of hair tumbling around her face and shoulders, golden highlights almost white in the moonlight. “I never noticed this amazing hair.”

“It wasn’t so amazing. The highlights are new, and I always wore it up.”

“I know you normally wear glasses, and no false eyelashes.” With a gentle finger, he drew imaginary glass frames on the delicate skin around her eyes. “But I never really saw your eyes. They’re tawny gold, like a lion’s.”

Still lying stretched out, hands behind her head, seemingly unconcerned about her nakedness, she gazed up at him. “My passport says hazel.”

“Gold.” Warm gold. Glowing. Dazzling.

It was hard to look away from them, but he did, running his finger down her nose. “I never noticed how cute your nose is. It turns up a little at the end.”

She wrinkled her nose and teased, “You were so unobservant, they should probably revoke your PI license.”

Grateful she wasn’t berating him for being such a jerk, he continued on, tracing the outside rim of her lips, then the center crease. “They should. Any man who’s oblivious to these sexy lips has to be blind.”

She sucked his finger into her mouth and nipped it. “What else didn’t you notice?”

“Your breasts. God, your fabulous breasts. Firm, but so soft and—” He squeezed one gently. “So real. All woman.” Now, this was his idea of heaven.

As he spoke, and toyed with her breast, she teased his finger with a swirling tongue, rhythmic sucks, little nibbles.

His engorged cock longed for the same treatment. “I want to make love to you properly. How about we go to your apartment?”

She released his finger. “Let’s stay here.”

“But someone could come along.” He paused as a thought struck him. “Do you share an apartment, and don’t want to bring a man home? We could go to my place.”

“No. I’d just rather stay here. This is fun, being in the park.” Her eyes glittered. “The cops might bust us.”

“The cops might bust us?” he echoed, amused and, yet again, surprised by her. “And that possibility turns you on?” Under his palm, her nipple was tight and hard.

She glanced away, then back at him defiantly. “Yeah, it does.”

“Jesus, Hayley Croft. You’re a wild woman.” Where had she been hiding that woman for more than six months?

Hayley smiled a secret smile and studied the gorgeous naked man whose head blocked her view of the moon. “So I’m discovering,” she murmured, half to herself. This was, hands down, the absolute best night of her life. All because she’d taken a risk.

Going undercover as a stripper, she’d not only had the thrill of performing to applause and cheers, she’d won the audition.

And she’d attracted the attention of the super-hottie she’d been ogling for half a year.

Attention? More like arousal, overwhelming passion, and some delicious compliments—not to mention, explosive sex like she’d never even imagined before.

Ry had said she, of all the dancers, was the one who’d aroused him, and she believed him. No question he was experienced with women, which meant that his urgency, his lack of finesse when they’d had sex, had to be rare.

“I think you like wild women,” she said.

“I sure like this one.” He grinned at her, his hand moved to her other breast, then he leaned over and replaced it with his mouth. His tongue laved her areola with broad strokes, heat that turned to tingly chill when he moved on and the night air licked her damp skin. Hot, cool. Both sensations arousing.

She arched her back, ignoring the bumpy texture of the clothing she lay on, and gave herself up to the pleasure of his tongue, the insistent tug of his lips as he sucked her aching nipple. Somehow he knew exactly the right amount of pressure to arouse without hurting.

Now he didn’t speak, but the way he fondled her breast, and the seductive brush of his hand as he explored her slim waist, rounded hips, flat belly, spoke of appreciation.

She’d always kept in shape—she loved exercise, motion, being fit—but rarely had there been a lover in her life to enjoy the benefits. Or to give her the kind of pleasure Ry was now bestowing on her.

With her first serious boyfriend, in high school, sex had been a fumbling activity that had never brought her to orgasm. Her second lover, in college, had given her an occasional climax but he hadn’t had much clue how to please a woman and she’d been too inhibited to tell him. With the third and last guy, sex had been enjoyable but not passionate.

None of them had understood, reveled in, her body.

But Ry…It felt like he worshipped her, turning her on with each lick, suck, breath, stroke. Here was the finesse that had been lacking before.

His exploring fingers moved down to flirt with the small, daring arrow of curly pubic hair, the wax job she’d gotten done at Sugarbox. Raising his head from her breast, he gazed at it. “When you stripped off your thong, all I could think about was following that arrow.”

“Feel free,” she said breathlessly.

“I intend to.” His fingers slipped between her legs with bold assurance.

Hands behind her head, body spread across their rumpled clothing, she closed her eyes, the better to concentrate on the sensations.

He stroked, smoothing her juices over her labia, slicking the flats of his fingers back and forth, first firmly, then delicately. Each stroke quickened her breath, drew her focus. No man had ever touched her this way before, with such sureness, taking such pleasure in arousing her.

And her body was so responsive to him. The tenderness of her breasts, her sex juices, the aching build of arousal that centered—

Oh God, just where Ry’s thumb was brushing now.