Undercovers Read Online Free

emotions, most of them centred on lust.
    “So how much would it cost me for a night with her?”
    “The new girl?”
    Roarke nodded, his eyes glued to Jasmeene. Before she’d arrived, he’d established his cover months ago as Mr. Lucas Romero, a wealthy businessman who travelled often to Las Vegas. He would drop in a couple times a month, and throw around large bills as if it was nothing. But since Jasmeene had begun ‘working’, he’d been there every night, all night, for a week, watching her do her routine, simply watching over her. He’d seen her dressed in pasties, barely there bikinis, and ridiculously high platform stilettos, but never did he grow tired of watching her reveal what she’d shown dozens of times already. When she flung off her top, her heavy breasts spilling forth, blood rushed to his cock, as if he was seeing her for the very first time. She twisted around the pole, her body writhing and humping it with such skilled expertise that he wondered if she’d done this before. She turned her back to him, and his gaze zeroed in on her tattoo. He smiled. Knowing her, she probably had.
    He turned to Jensen. “So how much is she?”
    “For you, Mr. Romero? Our valued customer—the first time is free.”
    He forced a smile. He wanted to snap the guy’s neck. Jasmeene was priceless, and this jerk would give her to him for free.
    He stood before he ripped out Jensen’s throat with his bare hands. “I want her waiting for me in my suite in five minutes.”
    Jasmeene slipped into the room she’d been instructed to go to. She hadn’t been told who was waiting for her, and what was expected of her but she knew—especially when Jensen placed two five hundred dollar bills in her hand.
    The room was spacious but dark, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.
    Her eyes were drawn to him and a shiver raced down her spine. He sat, draped lazily in the chair, his tie undone, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the fine hairs of his bronzed chest. She sucked in a breath when her pussy clenched, her sheath filling with sticky, wet warmth.
    She fought the urge to cross the room and touch him. From the moment they’d kissed, he’d reawakened her body, her need for him. She shook her head, forcing those thoughts right where they belonged—in the past. He didn’t remember her, how could he? He bedded a different woman every night. Her heart stuttered at the thought that she was just one in a long line of many, but it was the truth. She was just as nameless and faceless to him, as all the others.
    Her gaze followed him as he stood and closed the distance between them, mesmerised by his long, thick legs, and the impressive bulge in his pants.
    “Who was he?” He cupped her cheek, forcing her head back until their eyes met.
    “Who was who?”
    “The man who broke your heart? Who caused you so much pain?”
    She bit back a gasp. “How do you know I’m in pain?”
    “I can feel it. Your heart is wounded.”
    She blanked her emotions. She’d forgotten he was an empath.
    “And now you’ve closed yourself off from me.”
    She drew away from him, and his disturbing touch. “Because that was a long time ago, and I would prefer to keep my past right where it belongs.”
    He sighed, but instead of dropping his hand, he reached for her, drawing her into the circle of his arms.
    “It’s not in the past, not when it still hurts you in the present—”
    “Roarke—”
    “But I don’t want to talk about whatever jerk you still carry a torch for.” He tangled his hand in her hair, forcing her head back. “I didn’t have you come here for that.”
    She had no doubt why she was there—had known he’d send for her the moment he got up from his table. He never left before her set was done, but this time he had, and she’d known why.
    She’d known this moment would come, had done her best to prepare herself for it. In her investigation, she’d discovered that while there was no