Free Skin by Karin Tabke Page B

with this man. He was all things male and carnal wrapped up in one very sexy package. She couldn’t wait to get him stripped and in her camera lens.
    “If you keep looking at me like that, Frankie, you’ll give me no other choice but to trade body fluids with you.”
    “Trust me, Reese, the last thing you want is to get tangled up with me.”
    He chugged the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the coffee table. “I doubt that.”
    She cocked a brow and strode past him into the kitchen. “I changed my mind.” She grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and tossed it into the sink as he had done. She turned and tipped the bottle his way, then chugged almost half of it down. “The fact is, Reese, I’d rock your world, then walk away without giving you a second thought.” She winked at him and strode past him into the living room.
    He followed her, watching the gentle sway of her hips. His groin warmed.
    Flopping down on the couch, she took another healthy swig of the beer. “And after I rocked your world, you’d be whining and crying for more, and I don’t do more.” She polished off the beer and set the bottle down next to his. She raised her eyes and smiled. “So, can I borrow a shirt and a pair of boxers to sleep in?”
    Reese grinned. Her moxie impressed him. “Yeah, I’ve got something you can wear.”
    When he returned with a shirt and pair of boxer briefs, she was still smiling. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying an undercover assignment so much. He lived for the hunt, and this particular prey, once felled, would be well worth the effort. His dick swelled and he muttered a curse under his breath.
    Frankie raised a brow. “You okay?”
    “Couldn’t be better.” Reese handed her the clothing. “Bathroom is the first door on the left and the bedroom is the last door on the right.”
    “So you’re sleeping on the couch?”
    He nodded. She smiled. He watched her walk down the hall, his skin warming at the sight. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet,” he called.
    She turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. “I never doubted that for a minute. I’m surprised you don’t have an entire ladies’ wardrobe for your ‘guests.’ ”
    “I’m working on it.”
    While Frankie did what women did in his bathroom, Reese reassessed his game plan. She was dug in hard about the nofraternizing thing. And he needed to get her into bed. One, to build lust; two, to build trust; and three, to get as much information out of her as possible. He was convinced that once he had her emotionally, she’d give up sensitive information. It wasn’t the most gentlemanly ploy, but then she wasn’t Emily Post either. At the very least, she was guilty of Lord knew what by association, and at the most, she was a cold-blooded killer. He felt no remorse for his means of generating information.
    So to get her in bed, he had to make it her decision. Some reverse psychology. He’d play hard to get and see how she liked it.
    He groaned audibly when she emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, her skin scrubbed to a rosy glow, clad in one of his white wifebeaters and black boxer briefs that were too big for her and hung sexily off her full hips.
    As she walked down the hall, she pulled her hair up and wound a rubber band around the thick mass. Her tits rode up high, and blood slammed to his cock. He could see her nipples under the thin white fabric and he knew she knew it. Instead of focusing on that very fine sight, his eyes traveled lower to her belly, then her long, tanned legs. He swallowed hard and raised his eyes to lock with her gaze. She smiled, and if he were a betting man, he’d say she blushed. The look became her.
    “I’m hungry,” she said.
    Reese stood, not caring if his hard-on was noticeable. “So am I.”

Chapter Eight
    “I have frozen pizza, pistachios, and enough beer to float an aircraft carrier.”
    Frankie sighed, stepped into the kitchen, and poked her head around