Pulled Under. Kelli Ireland

around my neck.” The words were soft, the command undeniable. Both were meant only for her.

      Caught up in the moment, her arms went around his neck.

      “Legs around my waist.”

      “I don’t think so.” She started to pull her arms free and he leaned forward, forcing her to hold on if she didn’t want to be dropped. Her legs went around his waist almost instinctively. That sneaky bastard.

      Straightening, he began to pump his hips, bumping an undeniable erection against the seam of her sex. Arousal burned hotter than a flash fire—whipping around them, fast and out of control. A whimper escaped her. Whatever he’d been playing at earlier, he was now strong, demanding, in control. All of those things hit every button labeled Desire she had. She’d never wanted to submit to anyone, but he made her crave his brand of dominance in the strangest way.

      His lips brushed the shell of her ear when he said, “You feel amazing, Investigator.”

      Investigator. Reality ripped through her with a viciousness she couldn’t ignore. This man was part of her investigation. He’d lied to her already. So, no matter what she wanted in this moment, he was totally off-limits. Period.

      She struggled in his embrace.

      Levi shifted so he was standing, knees bent, with her thighs resting on his, and pinned her legs behind his back by parking his elbows on his knees.

      She was effectively trapped. “Put me down, Mr. Walsh.”

      “Oh, I don’t think so. As they say, the show must go on.” He ground against her, hitting her clit with practiced precision. She jerked then scowled at him, and he laughed. “Such a sour look on such a pretty face. Why do you try so hard to hide your beauty, Investigator Banks?”

      Stiffening, she forced him to readjust his hold. “Shut up, Walsh, and let me off this damn stage.”

      His eyelids slipped low as he considered her. Moving to the center of the stage, he set her down with a soft command to stay still.

      Her only movement was to habitually tug at her sleeves.

      The music’s bass thumped across the air, vibrating through her only to settle firmly between her thighs.

      Levi stalked around her in an ever-widening circle until he was standing in profile near the front of the stage. With a flourish, he dropped to the stage and did one-armed push-ups with apparent ease. The muscles in his arm, his shoulders and his back flexed, tightened and moved under the hot stage lights.

      She couldn’t stop staring as the crowd screamed for more.

      He went to all fours and crawled along the edge of the stage, women positively raining money down on him. Waistband full of cash, he glanced over at her and grinned wickedly. He was on his feet in a blink and striding toward her, dropping to his hands and knees when he was halfway there. He crawled the rest of the way, the muscles along his shoulders and down each side of his spine rolling with the motion in the most delicious way. Stage lights shone off the sheen of sweat that decorated his bare skin. His gaze was absolutely predatory.

      Harper shivered. She’d never been looked at like that, as if she was the ultimate prize. Awareness thrummed along her nerves and made her skin too tight all over her frame. The way her clothes rubbed and touched made her squirm. She wanted to run, wanted to stand still, to stay and see what this sexually charged man might do.

      And that—that wanting—was what totally kicked her out of the moment. She couldn’t afford to want. Wanting came with both personal and professional costs, and those costs were way too high. Backing away from him, she shook her head and turned, searching the stage wings for a way out.

      There. To the right an exit sign glowed red in the dim corridor. She strode toward it with the absolute conviction that if she didn’t reach that door, she was going to become the proverbial fly in this spider’s web.

       No. No way. Never again.

      Marcus had taught her all about being caught up in the moment and what it could ultimately cost. He’d used her, clean and clear. He’d made sure she was busy modeling while he funneled the money from their custom motorcycle shop to his private offshore account. She was the one who had busted her tail only to end up busted-ass broke in the end. If Levi thought he could play that card, if he assumed he could sway her from her sworn duty just by looking at her with such promise, he had another thing coming.

      Fighting not to run, she made it to the door before a hot, hard hand closed over her upper arm. “You’re not leaving, are you? You still have work to do tonight.”

      She glanced over her shoulder at the tall man with the executive haircut and green eyes. “Do I know you?”

      He jerked his chin toward the stage where Levi was cleaning up, taking ones and fives from the crazed fans. Stagehands were sweeping up money. He seemed to have done very well, perhaps better than normal. It would be worth sticking around to observe his reporting practices on that kind of income. It was, after all, why she was here. It had nothing to do with watching an unnaturally attractive man take his clothes off. Nope.

      “I’ll ask again,” she said quietly. “Do I know you?”

      “Name’s Eric Reeves, though my stage name is Dalton Chase.” He stared at her, eyes cool and gaze professionally detached. “I dance.”

      She looked him over, taking in his fireman costume. “That’s easier to buy than the building being on fire.”

      He snorted.

      The music faded out at the same time the DJ’s voice flooded the room to announce the next dancer—Dalton Chase.

      “You’re up,” she murmured.

      Eric nodded, took two steps and stopped. He rolled his ax back and forth on his shoulder and didn’t turn around when he said, “Watch your step.”

      Crossing her arms under her breasts, she considered him for a brief moment. “Courtesy or warning?”

      “Yes.” And then, in the space of a single heartbeat, his whole persona changed—his shoulders squared, a dimpled smile appeared, his eyes were alight with flirtation and the promise of fun.

      Surprise made her clumsy as she stumbled into someone. “Sorry,” she murmured, regaining her balance.

      “You’re welcome in my personal space anytime...Investigator.”

      Spine rigid, she spun and glared at Levi. “What were you doing, dragging me onstage and then getting a little bump and grind going?” She hated that her voice shook. It wasn’t much, but he would certainly notice.

      He did. “You weren’t completely averse to it, so stop acting as if it bothered you.”

      That was exactly the problem. It had bothered her, but not the way he assumed.

      “I’m here to observe your reporting practices,” she sputtered, stomach lodged in her throat. “Now. And please put some clothes on.”

      “I’d prefer to shower and get dressed. You can either wait for me, or we can go over the books with me like this.” He swept a hand down his body like a Price Is Right showgirl offering up the prize package.

      She couldn’t help but picture him in the shower, wet, soapy, head tilted back under the spray. “I want you... Take me...now...” She trailed off, eyes locked on his pecs.

      “Yeah?” His voice was low and smooth, like heated dipping chocolate.

      Looking up, she whispered, “Yeah.”

      He stepped in close. “Feeling’s entirely mutual.”

      She finger-walked her hand up his chest, weaving her hand through his hair and feathering her finger through his waves. “Is that so?”

      “We are absolutely on the same page,” Levi breathed, running his hand from her wrist to her shoulder