Naked Sushi. Jina Bacarr

      He’d never forget how she’d ground her butt into his groin, teasing him, making him crazy. Dry humping him until he couldn’t take it any longer. To knock him off balance? He had to find out. He’d slid her jeans down over her smooth skin and grabbed her ass. A more perfect ass he’d never seen. And one that gave a guy all kinds of sinful thoughts. Damn, he was going ballistic over this chick.

      Why? Because she’d touched a nerve in him.

      For all her brave talk, he swore she wasn’t as easy a lay as she made out.

      Maybe it was the glasses, which he found sexy, that gave her the innocent air. In the end it was his job to make sure she wasn’t a threat to him.

      “Listen up, Steven,” Jordan was saying, “we’ve been trying to bring in this corporate sleazeball for months and get him to talk.” She paused, no doubt to gulp down her coffee. Black. Always. “And now you’re telling me when you get the chance to get the goods on him, you let your dick do the talking.”

      “You’ll have my full report in the morning, Jordan,” Steve promised, knowing he faced another sleepless night. He hadn’t copied the whole file, but what he had seen didn’t advance the investigation. Frustrated, he downed the last of his coffee. This case was keeping them both up late. Briggs had drawn the attention of the FBI when his bank reported that he split up large financial transactions into smaller ones and then tried unsuccessfully to take his name off them. They needed evidence to prove he was structuring the transfers to evade reporting them. It didn’t stop there. It was the why that had them baffled. According to their sources, Briggs had made several unexplained overseas trips. Not to mention extravagant dinners at posh hotels, yet Pepper said her boss was cheap.

      Steve’s gut told him something bigger was at stake than tax evasion. He’d put out feelers on the street and had a few nibbles. What he’d learned so far wasn’t pretty. He suspected Briggs was involved in money laundering. All he needed was proof.

      “I want to see you in my office first thing in the morning,” Jordan finished with a yawn. “Is that clear?”

      “Anything you say, ma’am,” Steve said, signing off, knowing she hated him calling her ma’am.

      “Seven o’clock sharp,” she insisted. “Before breakfast.”

      “I’ll bring the beer,” he said, grinning. “You bring the doughnuts.”

      Then he hung up.

      He pulled the baseball cap down low over his eyes to take a quick snooze, planning his next move. His balls tightened. Damn, he couldn’t concentrate. How could he even think? He couldn’t forget his encounter in the copy room with the redhead. There was something about that girl that got under his skin.

      He intended to find out more about this Pepper. Who she was, where she came from. And why she was working late. That made her suspect in his eyes. She knew something, but what?

      He intended to get a full report on her.

      Pepper. Smooth, round ass. Sweet, sexy bod.

      A perfect fit for his dick.

      Are you as hot as your name? he’d asked her.

      You bet she was.

      This case just got a whole lot more interesting.

      * * *

      This was one goddamn screwed-up night.

      I’d barely zipped up my jeans when the Wicked Witch of the West made me pack up my things and give her back the key to the girls’ daisy-wallpapered bathroom. We were the only two who used it since the company wasn’t big on hiring females unless forced to do so. All the other employees were guys. No receptionist up front. Nobody answered the phone when customers needed tech support since all the calls were routed overseas.