Over My Head

By Wendi Zwaduk

What happens when two opposites realise they have more in common than expected?

I'm a dancer...and a damn good one. I work at the Silver Steel Gentlemen's Club. My hard and fast rule? No freebies and no office dating. Except for Slade. Hard, fast, slow, gentle...I don't care. I'll take him any way possible. But he's not that into me.

Or so she thinks. I'm a bouncer at the Silver Steel. Astra doesn't realise I see her—I can't help myself. She captivates me every time she's on the stage. I want her, but I have a...problem. I'm not at the Steel to pick up chicks or even work the room. I'm there to stop the influx of drugs into the community. Yeah, I'm a cop. But if the job means sampling the dancers... Well, as long as I keep my heart out of it, I'll be fine.

I hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Feb 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9780857158741

Wendi Zwaduk

Wendi Zwaduk is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to BDSM and LGBTQ themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com and the former AllRomance Ebooks. She also writes under the name of Megan Slayer. When she’s not writing, she spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.

Book preview

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Over My Head

ISBN # 978-0-85715-874-1

©Copyright Wendi Zwaduk 2012

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2012

Edited by Stacey Birkel

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

This story contains 55 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 5 pages.

Heart Attack

OVER MY HEAD

Wendi Zwaduk

What happens when two opposites realise they have more in common than expected?

I’m a dancer…and a damn good one. I work at the Silver Steel Gentlemen’s Club. My hard and fast rule? No freebies and no office dating. Except for Slade. Hard, fast, slow, gentle…I don’t care. I’ll take him any way possible. But he’s not that into me.

Or so she thinks. I’m a bouncer at the Silver Steel. Astra doesn’t realise I see her—I can’t help myself. She captivates me every time she’s on the stage. I want her, but I have a…problem. I’m not at the Steel to pick up chicks or even work the room. I’m there to stop the influx of drugs into the community. Yeah, I’m a cop. But if the job means sampling the dancers… Well, as long as I keep my heart out of it, I’ll be fine.

I hope.

Dedication

NR because you told me to write this.

NN because you made me finish it.

Jude and Drew just because.

CM because you gave me the dancing lecture.

SB because you work with me even when I’m a pita.

JPZ – I’ve been over my head since we met, but I kinda like it.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Mazda: Mazda Motor Corporation

Glock: GLOCK Gesellschaft mbH

Corvette: General Motors

Chapter One

Too God damned cold.

Sergeant Randy McCall blew warm air into his hands and waited for the heater to bring the temperature in the car to a liveable level. Damned force could’ve given him a car that had a working heater. He bounced his feet in a vain attempt to jumpstart his circulation. A break—he needed a fucking break and his Corvette. The ‘vette had a sweet heater, but like the rest of his life, it sat in storage. He’d been undercover for more than six months and still hadn’t made any headway.

Slade, my man, you are so fucked, he murmured to himself in the idling car. He glanced around the parking lot. The rest of the girls had gone home. Good. He hated to see them straggling. He’d been in the area long enough to know the Silver Steel Gentlemen’s Club was in the worst part of town. The worst. If he hadn’t been on the drug case, he’d more than likely be investigating the latest murder in the red light district—back doing the normal cop stuff.

Was there a normal anymore?

Randy shifted and twiddled with the radio knobs. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but his best friend, Drew Alwyn, had wandered through the club. Malsam probably had him preparing to go under, too. Randy shook his head. They should just close down the damned club.

He tipped his head back and ran his hand over his face as the warmth from the heater finally cut through the chill in the car. A vision of his dream girl formed in his mind. The honey blonde hair curling past her shoulders. Her creamy skin shimmering with glitter or a fine sheen of sweat. And then there were those eyes. The colour of good brandy as she stared up at him, taking him deep into her mouth.

A knock on his window brought him out of his fantasy. Shit. Randy cleared his throat and reminded himself he wasn’t Randy, he was Slade McMann—bouncer and hard ass. He then chastised himself for slipping into a daydream. Too fucking close to getting himself into trouble.

I am Slade.

The knocking grew louder. You okay?

Slade turned. The eyes he’d been fantasising about stared back at him from the other side of the fogged glass. Part of him wanted to be irritated. The rest of him rejoiced silently. Astra Lee. He rolled the window down an inch, cursing that he’d fogged the glass.

Are you okay? I thought you were dead. Astra shivered. Slade? I need you.

Now those were words he hadn’t expected to hear. Sure, she winked at him all the time and gave him occasional free lap dances, but wasn’t that the job of the dancers—tantalise without getting too close?

Slade?

He shook the thoughts from his head. Get in. We can talk in the warmth. He rolled his window back up, careful not to lose too much precious heat.

Astra slid into the passenger seat and rubbed her arms. Colder than the Arctic, isn’t it?

Slade glanced at her bare hands. Where are your gloves, little girl? He took both her hands in his. You’re going to freeze.

"My gloves grew legs and walked