I press my lips to hers, brushing across her sweet, delicate mouth, teasing her with the possibility of a deeper kiss but holding back just enough. Waiting for the small whimper that lets me know she wants more.
She acquiesces almost immediately, her body pressing against mine, her lips parted, searching for a deeper connection.
And time stands fucking still.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone, and every part of me reacts gratefully like a fallow field sensing rain. But I’m a gentleman, and I need to be sure of what she wants.
When I break the kiss, all set to assess how much she’s had to drink, whether she’s in the right frame of mind to consent, and whatever laundry list of cautions my brain chooses to throw at me right now, I hear an unexpected sound.
She’s laughing.
I take a step back so I can see her face and be sure. Yep, those cheeks are even rounder as her smile gives way to a fit of giggles.
Running a hand over my face, I quickly come to terms with the idea that maybe I’m losing my touch. Granted, it’s been a while since I’ve kissed a woman, but never in my thirty-seven years has a kiss resulted in laughter.
“Good thing I don’t lack confidence, Duchess.”
She puts a hand over her mouth and shakes her head. I wait another minute for the last giggle to subside.
“I’m sorry. When I get nervous, I laugh.”
I blow out a breath and shove a hand through my hair. “Nervous was not the vibe I was going for.”
Her eyes widen, and the crease in her brow deepens. “No, it’s not you. Believe me, you were doing everything right. It just happens sometimes. I started feeling…things…and then I started thinking about my underwear and?—”
I press one finger against her lips to stop her from saying more. And to let her know I understand. Sort of.
“Your underwear?”
She nods, tilting her face insistently to the side like I’m a dimwit.
“Did you misplace your panties back at the bar? Do we need to go on a recon mission?”
She shoves her fist at my shoulder. “No. I-I’m wearing everyday panties. They’re not hot or sexy. They’re just regular cotton bikini bottoms.” Her eyes flit down, and she swallows. Looking back up at me, she closes her eyes for a long blink and exhales. “And by bikini bottoms, I mean full coverage and a pretty high waist.”
“You’re wearing granny panties?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and nods with a grimace. “Sorry. And I’m really overthinking this decision.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Oh, now I have to see them.”
I’ve never met a woman this guileless and honest, and it fucking captivates me. When most women would be whispering dirty things into my ear right about now and telling me about their no-underwear rule, she’s lamenting a pair of sky-high granny panties.
“No!” She takes a step back from me, but I hook her elbow with mine and drag her back to my side.
“Please.”
She puts her hands over her face. “It’s mortifying. They’re…actually beige.”
“Honey, they could be a pair of Depends, and I wouldn’t care. That’s how turned on you’ve got me right now.” I pull her in even tighter and grit out words against her cheek. “So. Goddamn. Hot. I could kiss you here in the parking lot all night like this, but I have a better idea.”
Her jaw goes slack as she struggles to pull in air. The laughter is gone. Instantly.
I kiss her cheek and whisper against her ear, “Please let me see those panties. I will make it worth your while.”
Her jagged breath and the flutter of her pulse are something I’ll remember for the rest of my goddamn life. She lets out a shaky breath and nods. There’s no further mention of underwear.
“Are you still nervous?”
