“I know,” he said.
“Is your sister okay?”
He nodded. “Yes. My parents’ thirtieth anniversary is soon, and she needs my help with some of the party planning stuff.”
“Thirty years, wow,” Cece said. “It’s great that you’re having a party for them. Is it in Wellington?”
He nodded and, despite the trepidation already starting in her belly at the thought of being apart from him, she said, “You must be excited to go home again.”
He just shrugged before saying, “How was your bath?”
“Good,” she said. “I’m finally feeling warm. Thanks for building up the fire while I was having my bath.”
“You’re welcome.” His gaze dipped to her chest, and another beat of lust washed over her.
After her bath, she’d put on one of her dozen pairs of flannel pajamas, but now she wished she’d been smart enough to wear that one silk chemise she owned. She might not be wearing a bra or underwear, but no man alive found flannel pajamas attractive.
As if he read her mind, Briggs said, “I like your pajamas, little witch.”
Her giggle was nervous and high-pitched. “Yeah, right. Because flannel pajamas are super sexy.”
“Everything you wear is sexy.” His voice had gone low, and when he made that soft growl, every nerve ending in her body felt like it had been hit by lightning.
“Briggs,” she whispered, clutching the blanket.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Cece. I know it’s been a long day for you, and I shouldn’t be hoping that you still wanted…”
He took another deep breath. “It’s getting late and we should probably -”
“I still want to!” she blurted, her voice too loud again.
He opened his eyes, his gaze hot enough to set her bones on fire. “Are you sure, little witch?”
“Yes.” She groped under the blanket and withdrew her vibrator. “I brought this downstairs.”
His smile was slow and sexy, and holy crap, was it possible for her to spontaneously combust just from a look?
Feeling nervous and unsure, she said, “But I don’t know… I mean, I don’t think I can start using it without something to, um…”
“Turn you on?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I wish I could kiss you, Briggs.”
“Me too, baby,” he said.
They stared at each other, the air charged with their mutual need, before Briggs’s sexy smile grew, and he moved a little closer to her on the couch. “Will you show me your gorgeous breasts, little witch?”
She swallowed hard, her heart banging wildly against her ribcage, but she set the vibrator on her lap and reached for the buttons on her pajama top. Her gaze never leaving Briggs, she unbuttoned them, but then hesitated.
The self-doubt creeping in disappeared when Briggs, his voice hoarse with longing, said, “Show me, baby.”
She shrugged out of her shirt, dropping it on the floor beside the couch, and resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.
“Fuck,” Briggs breathed, his gaze on her breasts.
She giggled self-consciously, and he smiled at her before his eyes dropped to her breasts again. “So beautiful, baby.”
“Thank you,” she said.
