Pulled Under. Kelli Ireland

it going to take to get you to let your hair down a little, Ms. Banks?”

      “You could stop calling me Ms. Banks, for one.”

      The sharp command was issued with an undertone of insecurity that surprised him. “Consider it done...Harper.”

      Her fingers flexed against his chest before she flattened them out and, palm over his heart, leaned in close. “Are you going to talk me to death, or are you going to get down to business?”

      “Oh, this one isn’t business, honey.” He couldn’t stop his smile widening as he moved around her with all the grace he could muster. “This one’s just for fun.”

      She stood perfectly still, facing stage right.

      Stopping behind her, he leaned in so his lips were a mere whisper from the shell of her ear. “What are your fantasies, Harper?”

      A slight stiffening of her spine said she’d heard him over the crowd’s din. Without warning, she spun to face him and closed the distance between them, her chest pressed against his. “My fantasies aren’t up for discussion.”

      He lowered his lips to within a hairbreadth of hers. “Then I’ll have to go with my...highly...active...imagination.” Every last word was punctuated by the sensual brush of his fingertips over her skin. He thrilled at the goose bumps that chased his touch.

      The music changed to a distinctive techno beat. The suggestive lyrics heated his blood. Skating his hands down her arms, he shifted, took one hand and spun her out and away. Her eyes were wide, surprise evident in their gray depths. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to go through with the dance. This would teach her to doubt him.

      Levi dropped her hand and went to his knees, crawling toward her in time with the music’s bass line. She shifted from foot to foot as he drew closer, her eyes darting left and then right. She scrubbed her hands on her thighs and swallowed. It almost looked as if she was fighting the urge to run. Odd. He’d taken her for a bit more adventurous than that.

      He went to his belly at her feet and then rolled over. Grasping her ankles he spread her legs and slid between them, hips thrusting up, the short, sharp movements an unmistakable sexual pantomime. His vantage point gave him an uninterrupted view up the long, lean length of her body. He was tempted beyond measure to touch her.

      So he did.

      Running his hands up over her calves and down again nearly scrambled his brain cells. The bare skin across the tops of her feet appeared pale in the bright light. Hungry for skin-to-skin contact, he ran his fingertips from the tips of her shoes across the narrow expanse of bare skin and under the hem of her jeans to grip her ankles. He reveled in the silkiness of her skin for a moment before tracing his way down the sides of her shoes to her arches. The way she twitched thrilled him. No way could she say he wasn’t getting to her. Likewise, he couldn’t deny she was affecting him in a way no woman ever had.

       Definite complication to a calculated seduction.

      He’d deal.

      Sliding through her legs, he went to his knees before scaling her body one handhold at a time. He was careful not to cross proprietary boundaries. That didn’t mean he let her move away. No, with the firm grip of each hand he insisted she accept his touch. The tension radiating off her body said he was well on his way to accomplishing what he’d set out to do: cranking her up.

      Groin brushing her ass, he danced for her, with her. He ran his hands around her waist and splayed them over the slim expanse of skin above her jeans and below the shirt hem she’d knotted above her waist.

      Her belly fluttered beneath his touch, her breathing undeniably rapid.

      Applying subtle pressure to her abs encouraged her to lean into him. Gentle direction to and fro got her moving her hips in time to the music. She had great rhythm, keeping up with his direction without difficulty. Bending forward, he wrapped his arms around her and caged her with his arms, his chest, his hips. “You’ve got moves.”

      She didn’t answer.

      He let her go with reluctance and moved around her. Reaching behind him, he took her hands and dragged them up his body to his neck and then, with deliberation, down his body to the top edge of his pants. He parked her fingers under the waistband and, with relish, undid the snap and teased the zipper down. The crowd screamed louder.

      Her fingers caressed his abs.

      His hips thrust forward of their own accord. Damn it. The goal was to wind her up, not the other way around. He’d never had trouble remaining professional. Getting turned on by a dance was the equivalent of having no stamina in bed—the guys would give him hell if they figured out what was going on.

      When her fingers slid lower and brushed the edge of his G-string, his whole body jerked and he lost the beat of the music for a moment.

       Like that, is it?

      No way would he allow her to take control of his show. No dice.

      He took her wrists and encouraged her hands lower, then lower still. Her fingertips brushed the root of his swelling cock.

      She jerked as if she’d been shoved.

      Levi pulled her hands free and spun in the loose circle of her arms before indelicately shoving her hands down the back of his pants so her palms cupped the bare skin of his ass. With a couple of careful twists, he trapped her arms under his.

      With her feet still spread, it was the work of a moment to position a thigh between her legs and press up, into her sex, as he took the dance to a whole new level. Her breasts brushed against his chest, capturing his attention. He dragged his gaze down neck and across her chest. His reward? An eyeful of cleavage. A fringe of lace revealed the black of her bra as her shirt shifted aside.

      He sucked in a breath and glanced up when her fingers dug into his ass.

      Their eyes met.

      Primal desire flooded Levi’s system. Raw and undiluted, it instantly drowned out the shallow thrill he’d been flirting with. She stared up at him, eyes dark and pupils huge, lips parted as she fought to breathe—she was as caught up in the moment as he was.

      He stopped moving, could only stare down at her.

      And no matter how long he lived, he’d never forget what she did next.

      Harper pulled her hands from his pants, grasped the free material around his thighs and yanked, divesting him of his rip-away pants.

      The crowd went absolutely insane.

      Breath still coming rapidly, she managed a shaky smile. “Your move, Mr. Walsh.”

      “Since you’ve just divested me of my pants in public, why don’t you call me Levi.”

      Her chin tipped up as she laughed. Truly laughed.

      Levi shivered.

      But he couldn’t lose focus. He had a responsibility to the men working for him, now truly his employees. Then there were his parents. He’d do almost anything to ensure his friends’ safety, but for his parents? There was nothing, nothing, he wouldn’t do to make sure they were never destitute again.

      It was time he stopped following where Harper directed him and instead started leading her where he needed her to go.