Page 17 of Chasing Sparks

“Sure, as long as it doesn’t involve those over-eager women.”

His eyes widen as a surprised huff flies out of his mouth. “Just you, beautiful.”

“Go ahead.”

Ash dances his fingers down my arm. “Strip down and let me get an up close and personal look at that sexy lingerie I saw earlier.”

“How is this not going to end in sex?”

Ash’s grin widens. “I’m not the one holding out. You stated your rules, and I respect them. However, after a long week away from you, I would love nothing more than to see those gorgeous curves again.”

“That’s not a good idea …”

The truth is, I have a bit of a kink for giving Ash spur-of-the-moment stripteases. Hey, it takes the man to an entirely new level of turned-on, which has served me well so far.

“Actually, it’s the best idea I’ve heard all night. Let me make it easier for you. I’ll sit on my hands. No touching, unless you ask for it. Ori, you’re pretty much all I’ve thought about since that first night. Do with that information what you will.”

My heart stutters at his admission.

How do I say no to that?

That’s right, I don’t.

It might be total bullshit, a smooth line to ply me into submission, but I choose to believe him.

Why butter me up when he has scads of women lining up to suck him off?

That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

Besides, I do love playing with Asher Hammond—just to see what pops up.

With a mischievous smirk, I push myself to standing and slide my glasses off.

“No way. Put them back on,” he demands.

Seems Ash gets off on my sexy librarian look. Who am I to deny him that basic right?

With slow, deliberate movements, I finger open each button before sliding the shirt down my arms. Kicking off my shoes, I turn around, giving him a front-row seat to my peach as I toss a coy smile over my shoulder.

Ash’s smoldering gaze stays locked on me, and a thrill shoots through me when he adjusts himself with a low grunt.

Wiggling out of my jeans, I close the short distance between us, his heady stare trailing over every inch of me as I straddle his lap.

“Is this a close enough look for you?” I inquire, gasping when his hands cup my ass and push me against his erection.

“Not remotely.”

“Gotten a lot of lap dances in the last few weeks?”

Why do I ask this question? Masochistic curiosity, I suppose. My willpower is hanging by a thread and hearing I’m one of many might be the cold water my libido needs.

Ash’s eyes widen, but his grip stays firm. “Does this qualify as a lap dance when you’re not moving?”

I roll my eyes and snort out a laugh. Arrogant bastard.

“Fine, how many stripteases have you received?”

“Ever? A lot.”

---