He’s every woman’s secret fantasy…the handyman who can service her every need and bring her to ultimate sexual satisfaction…

Coming In First: Lissa Malone loves bad boys, but slam bam thank you ma’am is leaving her body thirsting for much, much more. She’s ready for the proverbial Mr. Nice Guy, someone who will lay her down, tease and touch her to the nth degree, and give her pleasure she’d only imagined—hoped—was possible…

Not A Second Too Late: Genevieve Louton wanted a fun, sexy bachelorette night—when her uptight sister crashed the party she had to find her own male stripper. Now she’s eying the rock hard stud across the bar, imagining his slow, seductive dance inside her house afire…

Returning to the living area, Nash popped the can’s tab and handed her the beer. “Drink up. I’ll drive you home wherever you live.”

“What about you?”

“I’m too busy getting naked.”

Genevieve watched in silence as he began to undress. His coat came first. Then he pulled his olive green sweatshirt over his head to reveal no undershirt separated her eyes from his body, and she nearly swallowed her tongue. He definitely had rock hard down. His torso was a study in the sculpted masculine physique and her fingers tingled with the want to run all over it.

No touching. It was her rule and it was a good one.

His fingers went to the button of his jeans, popping it open and then tackling the zipper with gusto. Warmth coiled in her belly and her throat went dryer than sandpaper. She brought the beer to her lips, taking a long drink. Then a longer one as he pushed his jeans and black briefs down strong thighs lined with crisp, dark hair.

He toed off brown leather boots, then bent to remove his socks and kicked the clothes aside. Straightening brought his cock in line with her eyes. And what a lovely cock it was. Long. Thick. The head tinged nearly purple with his stimulation.

Her pussy pulsed with liquid excitement. She started to reach a hand toward his shaft only to catch herself. She tucked her hand back at her side.

No touching. No touching. No touching.

“What kind of dancing did you have in mind?”

Hearing the humor in his voice, she looked at his face. A grin as carnal as it was arrogant turned up the corners of his lips. Through the years it had become second nature to hold her thoughts in. But this was her web-less night, so she returned his grin and let them out. “Anything that jiggles all those stunning male parts.”

He gave a low laugh and fell easily into a smooth left foot change that for just a moment opened his stance and displayed his balls to their best vantage.

Genevieve took another long drink, rapt in his moves. She’d expected a stripper routine. Or maybe some hip-hop type of street dancing. She didn’t expect this. “Who taught you how to waltz?”

He began a promenade that bobbed his dick and made her clit itch to be stroked. “Not what you expected?”

So far not much about him was what she’d expected. It was better—his personality and his body. “No, but you’re good. Have any faster moves?”

“How’s a jive suit you?”

If she was the one dancing, she would look ridiculous. Bouncing around on his feet, kicking up his heels, his big, hard, beautiful body looked wild and primitive and like she wanted to wrap her own around it and feel the press of his cock with each of his fast moves.