He towered over her, his gaze never leaving hers. As the music pumped, his fingers paused at the top button of his shirt, stroking slow, listening to the screams of the crowd, and then flicked it open lightning quick.

Her belly dropped.

He repeated the motion with the second button. His refusal to dance for them only made everyone crazier. Dollar bills started flying through the air and chants of “Take it off!” vibrated in the air. He ignored the other women, focused intently and only on her.

It was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

In this crowded room, he stripped for her eyes. A line of naked flesh appeared in the gaps. Arilyn caught the hues of light brown skin, and a patch of dark hair swirled over cut, chiseled muscles. Hungrily, her gaze followed the tempting path until his shirt gaped open, giving her a tantalizing peek.

She wondered how he tasted. Wondered how it would feel to run her tongue over that intriguing line of hair and follow it downward.

“Do you want me to open my shirt, Arilyn?” His question burned her ears in more of a command. Even with the deafening noise, she heard him clearly, as if they were alone in a darkened room on a quiet night. Her body began to shake, and she gripped her martini glass tight. Oh, how she wanted. Bad, dirty, wonderful things. She was helpless to fight.

“Yes.”

His lower lip lifted. Those dark eyes pinned her to the chair as capably as the handcuffs hanging on his belt. With slow, deliberate motions, he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slowly parted the material.

The women went wild.

“More, more, more!”

Her mouth went dry. Her fingers itched to run over that gorgeous broad chest, tracing every carved muscle. Feeling the strength and power under each flex of movement, the drag of his breath in and out, the sound of his heart beating under her palms. She ached to feel him, stroke him, hear the groans from his lips as she pleasured him. A low whimper fell from her lips.

“They want more,” he said. “Do you want more?”

She licked her lips. “Yes.”

Reaching over, he grabbed her hands and pressed them to his chest. “Then take what you want.”

Arilyn realized she was in a packed room where everyone thought he was a paid stripper, and she couldn’t care less. It was literally the craziest thing she’d ever done, but she couldn’t stop now. Her fingers hit the hard wall of his pecs and she stroked him. He let out a groan through gritted teeth but remained still. The song switched to Prince’s “Get Off,” and then she heard her name chanted in unison, commanding her to take it all off.

Trembling, she savored the iron wall of his abs, gently tracing the edge of his belt buckle. She paused. Their gazes locked.

“No.” Her voice broke. Waves of his body heat radiated and uncoiled around her. “Not here.”

“Do you want me for yourself?”

His harsh question demanded truth. Logically, they were all wrong. But her body didn’t care, and a raw possessiveness caught her off guard. She wanted him to belong to her. She didn’t want a bunch of women watching him strip with greedy eyes and hands.

“I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”

He muttered a vicious curse. “Good. I don’t want anyone else to touch you either.”

He quickly refastened the buttons on his shirt. Loud boos filled the air.

Without missing a beat, Stone picked her up easily from the chair, lifted her high, and slammed his mouth on hers.

Arilyn was lost. Not caring that they had an audience, she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a hunger she couldn’t hide. The boos turned to catcalls and whistles, and a dollar bill floated down between them.

“Come with me now,” he growled against her lips.

“Yes.”

Stone took her hand and tugged her out the door. Gen jumped when they went past her, cheeks red and flushed. “Oh! Ugh, guess you guys found each other, huh?”

Stone gave her a look. “You’ll pay for that.”

She swallowed. “Hey, I was just trying to help.”

“I’ll deal with you later,” he warned. “I’m taking Arilyn home.” Gen shot her a look, checking to make sure it was okay. Arilyn nodded, and Gen relaxed.

A young guy dressed in a police uniform, complete with hat, stick, and handcuffs belted to his side, blocked their way. “This is the bachelorette party?” he asked. His brow rose. “Didn’t know we were doing a tag team, dude. I’m not splitting the tips.”

Stone jerked his thumb toward the door. “I warmed them up. They’re all yours now.”

He didn’t pause. Led her out the door and pushed her into the cab waiting at the corner for drunk patrons to take home. He snapped out her address. They didn’t speak during the short drive. Soon he pressed some bills into the driver’s hand and escorted her into the bungalow. Arilyn fumbled with the keys but finally got the door unlocked.

Then they were alone.

No foster dogs greeted them. The house was eerily silent and watchful. Arilyn embraced the floaty, warm feeling of being tipsy and allowing her body to win the war. He stood with hips braced, lips in a hard line, studying her with those dark eyes as if looking to unlock her secrets.

Tonight she wanted to fly and be impulsive. Tonight she wanted to be a bad girl.

“Why tonight? Why now?” he asked.

“Why not? You win. I want you for tonight.”

His brow arched. “How drunk are you?”

She smiled real slow and took a step closer. “Does it matter? I’m here. I’m ready.”

He muttered a curse. “I don’t want our first time to be a blur of memory. I also don’t want to leave room for regret in the morning.”

Annoyance surged. “I’ll remember. This is what you wanted. I’m asking. So, are you going to keep talking and questioning me, Officer? Or are you going to take it all off?”

He paused for a beat. His eyes burned. “We’ll compromise. I’m no saint, and I can’t leave you untouched tonight.”

“Should we go into the bedroom?” she asked bravely.

His smug grin caused goose bumps to prickle her flesh. “We don’t need a bedroom, little one. Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

Her tummy slid to her toes. His gaze raked over every inch of her body until her breath strangled in her throat and she was unable to move. She’d never felt so alive. Her nerve endings thrummed until waiting for him to finally touch her became almost painful. Stone dragged off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Her fingers rolled into fists with the urge to reach out and grab him.

“You’re dressed for naughtiness tonight. I think that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He finally closed the distance and backed her up against the wall. His bare chest pressed lightly against her breasts. His thighs intertwined with hers.

A moan escaped her lips. “I want you to touch me,” she said huskily.

“I want that, too.” His hands pulled through her hair, dragging the strands forward and draping them over her breasts. “I’ve dreamed of you naked except for all this hair. Dreamed of you in many positions naked. But first you have to reach under that short skirt and remove your panties.”

The dirty command was like a lightning shot straight to her core. She grew wet and achy. “I thought you’d do that for me,” she managed to grind out.

He never stopped touching her with light, teasing strokes. Her cheek, her collarbone. Her jaw, her lips. Brushing the hard tips of her breasts pushing against the thin silk. Arilyn fought for sanity. Her experiences were more traditional. She’d never done it against a wall, almost fully dressed. “I may be bossy, but I always leave the choice up to you. Want this to go any further? Remove them. Hike up your skirt and pull them off, then hand them to me.”

Oh, he was bad. The command stole her breath, but she wanted to do it, craved to see the lust light up those dark eyes and know she was the one who put it there. He took a tiny step back to give her room, and Arilyn tugged up her minuscule skirt, hooked her fingers around the waistband, and pulled her panties down. Very slowly, she stepped out of them, one leg at a time. Straightened. And pushed the lacy, damp fabric in his hand.