Page 183 of Vicious Temptation

I narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, you’re implying. There’s a difference.”

His mouth twitches beneath the mask. “It came out before you were born.”

“You too. And? My parents raised me right, Braga. I know Avant.”

“So it’s your parents’ music?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

His laugh gets me, and I point at him. “Keep laughing. See what happens. You want this pussy or not?”

“That pussy is already mine, fera.”

Well, fuck.

The words hit me straight between the thighs, wiping the smirk off my face. Thiago knows it too. He winks and steps back as the music settles into its rhythm, and whatever comeback I had disappears with it.

So he’s really fucking doing this.

Thiago reaches for the cape and rolls one shoulder free, then the other, taking his time as he falls into the rhythm. My lips part when I realize the bastard can move.

He lets the cape slide from his hand and keeps going, completely committed now, while I sit there trying to make sense of the man who just refused to give me a striptease with Batman currently giving me a fucking show. A laugh breaks through my surprise.

Thiago points at me. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth, but that only makes it worse. “I wasn’t prepared for you to take this so seriously.”

“You wanted Batman to strip.”

“I did.”

“Then behave.”

That shuts me up for all of two seconds. I nearly lose it again when his hands go to his jacket and he starts undoing the button. His hips move with the beat, a slow roll followed by a short thrust that has me biting down on my nail to keep it in.

It doesn’t work.

Especially when he does it again as he turns, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders and tossing it aside like he’s done this a hundred times.

I laugh harder.

But then he faces me again, and the next roll of his hips is so fucking smooth that my laughter falters.

Okay. The bastard really does know what he’s doing.

There’s something deeply unfair about watching this giant man move like that as he slowly takes off his clothes. Every grind of his hips makes me wetter, and suddenly what started as a joke feels a lot more like torture I willingly signed up for.

He loosens his bow tie, each pull and shift timed to the music, sliding it from beneath his collar, letting it fall, then gives me another controlled thrust of his hips as his hands go to the first button of his shirt.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip.

I make it through two more buttons before I’m done watching from across the bed. I crawl toward him, still biting my lip, and reach the edge of the mattress, rising to my knees. Thiago keeps moving as I reach into the front of my catsuit and pull out a folded bill. He stops dancing when I tuck the cash into the waistband of his underwear.

Thiago looks down at it, then at me. We both lose it.