I could get lost in those eyes and just hold her close until morning breaks us apart. I’d be satisfied with only that.
But her eyes lower to my lips and suddenly, the possibility ofmoresets everything within me alight.
I could have her right here on the kitchen floor, pushed up against the door frame, over the counter like I’d imagined only a few days ago. I could. It would be…hard to justify, with comfortable beds right upstairs. But Icoulddo it.
“What are you?—”
But Ican’texplain,so instead, I sweep up her legs and pick her up, bridal style. The irony isn’t lost on me, just buried under the overwhelming sensation of her body pressed firmly against mine.
“Put me down!” she half stutters the words.
“You must be tired.” The excuse sounds feeble as I move us toward the stairs, up toward my bedroom.
“I don’t need you to manhandle me.”
“Don’t you?”
I can feel her tense in my arms. “I can walk.”
“I can carry you.”
She protests some more, but I ignore every word until my bedroom door slams shut behind us.
I set her down somewhat gingerly. I assume that’s what the irritated frown on her face is for. But the expression does nothing to mar her loveliness. That fucking dress she’s wearing might be the death of me.
She stands there, defiant, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, waiting for me.Are we doing this then?she seems to ask without the words leaving her mouth.
In response, I remove my cufflinks. It’s a formal gesture that I follow with the unbuttoning of my shirt.
I don’t miss the way her eyes rake over my bare chest as soon as it’s revealed to her. I let the smugness into my smirk as I take a step toward her.
“This…off. Take this off,” I demand as I circle around her, lifting the strap of her dress for a moment with my fingers. There are no bruises or marks on the backs of her arms or shoulders.
She does so carefully, letting the dress pool at her feet. She’s remarkably confident, almost pragmatic.
There’s nothing beneath the dress but the garter she flashed at me earlier.
“What the fuck,” I hiss, hands already reaching out to trail down her sides. I rake over every inch of my skin. No bruises, no marks. She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine.
She swallows. “The dress was tight. You could see the panty lines through the fabric.”
“You walked into that den of vipers looking like that withnothingon under your dress?” I growl as I come around back to her front.
“I had no intention of letting them know that,” she shoots back, jaw set stubbornly. It’s so sharp, yet it makes me want to kiss it…all of it.
My lips seek hers out immediately at the thought. Drawing her close by the back of the neck, I press my mouth against that stubbornness, eliciting a small gasp from her lips. “May I remind you that you are married.”
Fingers press tightly into my arms, holding me in place. Encouraging me on.
“I don’t hear my husband complaining.”
The hands trailing down her skin pause between her legs, where there is nothing preventing me from palming her sensitive nakedness.
Her gasp comes out as more of a moan. The sound is delicious and instantly goes straight to my cock.
“He’s not,” I whisper up her jaw.
For all her restraint, confidence, and pragmatism, it’s Mia who moves first.
