Well, just fucking fine. She’d show him she could. Without embarrassment or hesitation. She threw the towel in the corner, marched over to the stereo and selected a song, then pushed the button. Sucking in a deep breath, she remembered what Jessie had told her.

When the music started, she had her back turned to Spence. She’d just pretend he wasn’t in the room at all. Then again, this was her work, wasn’t it? And Spencer was definitely all man. If she could turn him on—without Jessie there as the added allure—she could judge her adequacy as a stripper. Then she’d know whether she needed to make some adjustments or not. It would give her some advance knowledge for tomorrow when she met with Maria. She’d know what areas she needed to work on.

She let herself feel the music as it entered her body, remembering she had a “paying” customer watching her.

Think sexy, Shadoe. Be sexy. Of course she didn’t have the right clothes on, but that didn’t matter. Because underneath these sweats? Wait till he saw what she had on underneath.

The music was slow, jazzy, a beat that made her sway around the room. She took her time at first, not getting close to him at all, as if she were dancing only for herself. She kept her eyes closed, letting the music take hold and get her in the mood. After a few seconds, she started moving around the floor, gradually inching closer and closer, each step drawing her toward Spencer’s chair.

The music slowed, the slow strains of the saxophone oh so sexy. She really felt it now, and it made her movements that much more fluid.

Spence’s gaze followed her, and she teased him with a roll of her hip near his shoulder, barely grazing him. Emboldened by the sudden flash of heat in his eyes, she took it further, dragging the hem of her T-shirt up, baring the skin of her belly.

His eyes widened when he saw the diamond piercing her belly button.

“That doesn’t look like government issue.”

She smiled down at him, continued to roll her hips from side to side. “It’s a transmitter and GPS unit. So it is government issue. You’ll be able to track and hear me using this device.”

His gaze slid up her body to her face, and his lips lifted. “Handy.”

“I thought so. Sexy and functional.”

“Guess you thought of everything.”

“I try.”

He followed every inch of flesh she revealed. With one hand she pulled the shirt up, and pushed the sweatpants down with the other, giving him a glimpse of her hips and the string of her thong.

Through half-lidded eyes she shot a smoldering gaze at Spencer, and was rewarded with his deep, slow swallow. His eyes were planted on her, never wavering. That encouraged her to move forward, lifting the T-shirt up, stopping short of her breasts. His heated gaze followed her movements, then locked on her face in expectation. She danced in front of him, fisting the shirt in both hands and rocking her hips back and forth, teasing him.

If he wanted it, he could damn well ask.

“Take it off,” he said.

No, he hadn’t quite asked, had he? He’d commanded it, and his gruff voice made her wet. That, she hadn’t expected, but it helped her play the part, and she’d use anything she could to dig in to the persona of a stripper.

She stepped closer and lifted the shirt off, revealing the black lace demi-bra that barely contained her breasts.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

Straitlaced and prim and proper, was she? Choke on it, Spence.

This was so exciting. God, she hoped she didn’t look like a fool, but judging from Spencer’s reaction, she didn’t think so.

She tossed the shirt across the room and hooked her thumbs underneath the waistband of her sweats, just enough to tease. She might not be a professional stripper, but she knew when she had a man’s interest. Her fingers splayed underneath just enough to taunt, to promise, tilting her pelvis in his direction as if offering herself to him. Then she turned around and swung her ass at him as she bent over, slowly inching the sweats down her legs.

Yes, that’s right, Spence. Black lace thong panties. She might have to wear a hideous crisp pantsuit on the outside, but she loved her sexy underwear.

She stood, let the pants fall to her ankles, and kicked them off, then turned around, pointing a hip in his direction.

Spencer’s gaze was hot, and when he licked his lips, she knew she had him. She took a step forward, spread her legs wide enough for him to zero in on the goods, and straddled his lap.

His brows went up. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Never.” She was operating purely on instinct and what she wanted. And right now she wanted to touch him, to feel his body under hers. She grabbed his shoulders and rocked against him, tilting her head back and arcing forward, letting him look. His deep breathing told her all she needed to know. And dear God it was exhilarating.

Truthfully, she’d never been bold like this before, especially with a man. Even her sexual experiences in the past had been in the dark and under the covers. She had no idea where this wild sexual side of herself had come from. She could tell herself she was doing this because it was her job, but she sensed it was more than that. She felt more than that.

Her body was alive, surging with tingles and pulses and wetness and need, all directed at the man whose lap she sat on. And, oh my, he was rock-hard all over, from the bulging muscles of his shoulders that flexed under her hands, to the wall of rock under her thighs.

As she inched closer, ever closer, she felt another hardness, one that compelled her need to explore. His cock was outlined against his jeans, thick and inviting, and she wanted to unzip his pants and slide her hands inside to wrap her fingers around him. Would he be as hot and pulsing as she was?

She was wet. He was hard.

She wanted to fuck him, impale her pussy on his cock until she came in a blistering, satisfying orgasm. Her clit quivered at the visuals slamming at her nonstop. Her gaze shot to his, and the message was clear in the heat of his eyes.

She could barely breathe.

“Do it, Shadoe.”

This had suddenly become less about work and much more personal, because she wanted to. She really wanted to. Her nipples were hard and throbbing, and it wouldn’t take much pressure on her clit before she went off like a rocket into a shuddering climax. Her panties were already soaked—probably through to his jeans.

But this wasn’t part of the job description.

Shit.

Like a cold bucket of water had been tossed over her, training and protocol and everything she’d been taught about mixing business and pleasure—or rather not mixing them—slapped her back into reality. She shook her head and backed off Spence’s lap, mortification mixed with regret, because for a moment there, she wished she wasn’t on assignment. She grabbed her clothes and turned off the music, sucked in air, slowed down her breathing, and forced a calm she didn’t feel. By the time she climbed back into her sweatpants, she was relaxed and smiling. “I think we’ve done enough for the day.”

He stood, his erection still prominent, as was the frown on his face. “You haven’t finished.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t stripped.”

No, she hadn’t. Not completely anyway. She still wanted to. What would happen if she stood naked before him? Would he touch her? Do more than that? The thought of it made her weak in the knees.

She couldn’t go there. She inhaled, then moved toward him, pulling her T-shirt over her head like armor. When she stopped in front of him, she felt more herself again. “I don’t need to.” She slid her gaze down to his cock, then back up again. “You’re hard; you wanted me. I think I did a pretty decent job for my first day. I’ll call that good enough.”

She strolled past him and out of the room, hoping her legs didn’t give out from under her.

By the time she got to her room and shut the door behind her, she was shaking, sweaty, and her heart was pounding.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She hadn’t had control of the situation, and control was everything in her line of work. She’d let it get personal. Had she learned nothing at the academy?

She’d really like to blame Spencer for that debacle, but it wasn’t his fault. She could have said no when he’d told her to strip, but honestly, she’d needed the practice. He was right. How could she hope to get naked in front of a roomful of hundreds of men if she couldn’t do it in front of one? And frankly, doing it for him had helped her self-confidence. Oh, man, had it ever helped. She had no idea how sexual an experience it could be.

But was that stripping itself, or the man she’d stripped for? There was no doubt about it: she might find Spence arrogant and irritating, but there was also chemistry between them. Serious, combustible chemistry. Even now she could recall the feel of his skin under her hands, the way his rigid thighs felt under hers. She’d never been with a more commanding, sexual man in her entire life.

She’d wanted him to touch her.

“Good God, Shadoe, what’s wrong with you?” She pushed off the door and flung herself on the twin bed, staring up at the lazily twirling blades of the ceiling fan. Which, by the way, was not cooling her body down at all. She lifted her hips and jerked the sweats off, then discarded her T-shirt, too.

Even clad in just her bra and panties, she was still hot. And she knew why.

That was Spence’s fault, indirectly at least. He’d gotten her turned on, and she needed an orgasm. She could have rocked against his leg and gotten off if she’d lingered there long enough. That visual only made her body steamier. She laid her hand against her belly, feeling the heat of her skin there, then let her fingers slide lower, under the lace, to palm her sex. It was damp, still clinging with the heat and moisture churned up by her sexy encounter with Spence.

Oh, yes. Using her other hand, she undid the front clasp of her bra and pulled the cups apart, letting her breasts spill free. The cool air of the fan blew over them, her nipples spiking into tight, hard points.

Right now she’d love to have Spencer loom over her and fit his lips over her nipples—suck and lick them, tease them with his teeth.

“Mercy,” she whispered, lifting her hips against her palm and wriggling her fingers. She plucked her nipple while her other hand cascaded lower, sliding down over her clit. She gasped at the sensation, the tight bundle of nerves swollen and wet with her pussy juices.

“I need to come,” she said to no one in particular, but one man’s face crept before her. She tried to block it from her mind, but he kept coming into focus again. Him, and only him. Finally, she relented and let him in.

“I need to come, Spence.” She let the fantasy take over, and her fingers became his—his would be much larger, rougher, and would feel so good. She imagined the feel of them as she caressed her sex, then dipped lower to plunge two fingers inside her moist cavern.

“Oh, God, yes!” she said, then bit her lip as she realized she was too loud and had no idea who might be in the room next to hers. She lifted off the bed again, eager for release but still wanting to hold back.

She pinched her nipple between her fingers, needed that extra painful pleasure while she fucked her fingers in and out of her pussy. She was so wet, her juices ran down her ass. She loved it, reveled in every exquisite sensation.

The buildup increased and she had to fight back loud moans. She may not have a ton of sexual experience, but she knew how to pleasure herself. She did it often and she was a damn expert at it, bringing herself to the height of explosive orgasm within minutes.

She was there, at the precipice, ready to fall. The walls of her pussy gripped her fingers and she felt the contractions as her climax hovered. But still, she lifted the heel of her hand off her clit and hesitated, teasing herself just as she’d want Spence to tease her. She could see his tight, smiling face above her.

“Ask me for it,” he’d say.