“How’s my lipstick.”

At the sound of the female voice, his hands tightened on the wheel. He didn’t give a shit about what some stupid woman’s mouth looked like.

“I asked you…how is my lipstick.” The tone was sharper now and made his palms squeeze down even harder on the wheel.

Before she repeated the demand and he got nasty, he glared into the rearview mirror. If whatever bitch was in the back expected him to—

Black eyes grabbed him and held him as sure as if she’d leaned forward and put him in a headlock. And then he sensed her reaching into him and…

“My lipstick,” she said, with deliberate, flaring pronunciation.

He did a quick check on the street ahead, which was clear to the traffic light two blocks ahead, and went right back to the rearview. “Ah…it looks good.”

With a deliberate stroke of her manicured forefinger, she wiped the line of her lower lip, then pursed her mouth and released.

“You’re a religious man, I see,” she murmured, closing her compact.

He glanced at the cross that was glued to the dashboard. “Not my cab.”

“Oh.” She brushed her hair back and kept staring at him.

It didn’t take long before he felt like the heater had been turned on high, and he even double-checked to see if the blower was working overtime. No. She was just a beautiful woman who was looking at him like he was something. Which happened about as often as—

“What’s your name,” she whispered.

Tongue-tied, and abruptly unsure of the answer, he pointed to the cabbie license that had his picture on it. Reading what was written, he said, “Saul. Saul Weaver.”

“Nice name.”

As they came up to the red light at the intersection, he braked, and the instant the taxi was at a full stop, he was back looking into the rear…view…mirror….

The irises of her eyes expanded until there was no white part to contrast with the dense black—and though that should have been the kind of thing to leave him screaming, he felt like liquid orgasm had taken the place of the blood in his veins.

Pleasure soared through him, lifting him up even as he remained on the seat of the taxi, invading him even as his skin remained intact, owning him though there was no tangible leash between them.

“Saul,” the woman said, her voice morphing into something that was both deep as a man’s and breathy as a woman’s. “I know what you want.”

Saul swallowed hard and heard his voice come from a long distance. “You do?”

“And I know how you can get it.”

“You…do?”

“Pull over into that alley, Saul.” With that, she opened her coat, flashing a skintight white blouse that showed her nipples clear as if nothing covered them. “Pull over, Saul, and let me tell you what you need to do.”