Becky
No way.
This can’t be Peter Silver on my doorstep. I blink—once, and then twice—but the man standing here doesn’t turn into the delivery man. No, this isreallyPeter Silver in all of his 6’2 glory.
It doesn’t take long before I regain my composure. After all, a woman like me can’t lose her shit every time she meets a hot guy. Granted, Peter Silver is hotter than lava, and his presence is enough to send bolts of lightning up my spine, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna drop my panties just because he figured out where I live.
Damn it, my panties!
I didn’t put on a robe before I waltzed to the door, and now I’m standing here in nothing but a short tank top and cutesy pink panties. My fingers twitch, my instincts demanding that I cover myself, but I just ignore them. I’m already here, his eyes are pretty much devouring every naked inch of my body...and I look good. Why ruin the moment?
“Becky Brash,” Peter says in that deep bass of his.
I just arch an eyebrow.
“You’ve figured out my name.” I clap my hands and offer him a mocking grin. “Congratulations. Do you want a medal?”
“A medal?” He smirks and, even if only for a moment, he drops that holier-than-thou attitude. “I’m not interested in medals. I’m interested in you.”
“You know, I’ve had stalkers before, and I can’t say I appreciate them.” I move to close the door, but I’m only playing a game here. I’m actually curious about Peter Silver. Just like I knew he would do, he puts his foot forward, stopping me from slamming the door in his face. “Do I need to call the police?”
“No.” He takes his foot and shows me the palms of his hands. That devilish grin of his, though, it never leaves his face. “I come in peace. I just…”
“Yeah?” I fold my arms over my chest...and do it in such a way that my breasts are pushed up, offering him an ample view of my cleavage. Men—it really doesn’t matter how much money they have...once you push the right buttons, they all dance to your tune. “Spit it out.”
“I had to see you,” he says, and I can tell he’s not the kind of guy who’s used to saying stuff like this. No, with guys like Peter Silver and Darian Strong, it’s the other way around. Women chase after them.
Too bad he’s in my world now.
“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?” I shake my head and laugh. When a stray lock of hair falls in front of my eyes, I blow it out of my face, making it look as if I’m blowing him a kiss. “I’m sorry, but a stripper isn’t the sort of woman you should be looking for. I’m a dancer, not a—.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” That rakish grin of his widens, and it makes him look even more handsome than he already is. Hell, it should be illegal for him to have a smile like this. He’s tall, ripped, and has more money than God—a smile like this is just overkill. “But I don’t think you’re enjoying this conversation as much as you enjoyed last night.”
Well, damn.
I’m not going to argue against that one.
Thing is, what happened last time wasn’t planned. At all. When I first saw Peter Silver and Darian Strong meeting with Max, I knew I had to squeeze myself in there...but I didn’t think things would get as wild as they did.
Sure, after getting home I tried convincing myself that it was part of the job, that I had no other choice…but that was bullshit. I sauntered over to these guys because I couldn’t help it.
I told myself I was ‘investigating’ and ‘doing my job’, but that was bullshit. Not that I feel bad about it—any woman in my shoes would’ve done the same, and that’s without bringing the whole undercover thing into this.
“What if I enjoyed last night?” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m a stripper, not a saint.”
“I never said you were a saint.” He narrows his eyes, which gives a dangerous edge to his smile. I don’t want to feel like prey right now, but I have to admit—it feels good to be Peter Silver’s prey. “In fact, Becky, the last thing I want you to be is a saint.”
I know I should put a stop to this conversation, but I just can’t help it. My heart is thrumming inside my chest, my blood has already started to simmer, and there’s a knot in my stomach.
Alright, let’s be logical about this.
This dance of ours might be dangerous, but I need to remain on Peter’s good side , just as I need to figure out what’s going on between Max and him. Because if Peter or Darian are involved in some shady stuff...I’ll be more than happy to crush them alongside Max. I’ll be sad to put two handsome guys behind bars, sure, but I’ll do it all the same. Good looks are a poor shield when it comes to the FBI.
“Then what would you like me to be?” I purr, drawing out the words.
“I would like you to be…” He shrugs. “You.”
NowthatI wasn’t expecting. Most men turn me into some fantasy inside their heads, a woman who’s a mere brainless shell of herself, but Peter...well, this is intriguing, to say the least.