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Shell’s shoulders lost their tension, and she dragged a hand through her curls. “Thanks, Jig. I should just go and get her home to bed.” She held out her arms. “I’ll carry her to my car.”
Gently, Copper nudged Shell aside. “I got her. You were just saying the other day how heavy she’s getting, and I’m sure you have to grab her stuff from upstairs.” With a skill Izzy never would have guessed he possessed, he shifted Beth from Jig’s arms to his without so much as a peep from the sleeping child.
Shell visibly relaxed and softened toward Copper the moment her child was in his arms. Huh, maybe there was something to her theory because two minutes ago, Izzy would have sworn Shell was about to strangle him. Now she looked ready to hop on and ride him into the sunset.
“Thanks, Copper. I’ll be right out.” Shell turned to Izzy. “Bye, girl.” They hugged, and Shell whispered, “Grab it while you can because nothing sucks more than wanting what you can never have.” Then she gave Izzy a sad smile and went off to fetch Beth’s things.
Izzy turned to Jig. He snagged her by the waist and drew her flush against him. Immediately, her focus went to the small spot of drool running down Jig’s cut. “She slimed you,” Izzy said with a smile.
There was an odd look on his face, one Izzy hadn’t seen before. Shouldn’t be surprising. It had to be unnerving being around children, especially one who was close in age to his own child who died. “You all right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m actually pretty damn good.” Then he kissed her, and anything else she might have said fell straight out of her head.
The man kissed better than any other man had ever fucked her.
“Upstairs,” she said, breathless when they broke apart.
“Yeah,” he said then smirked. “Wanna bone?”
Izzy pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me? What did you just ask me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IZZY WAS ON him the moment the door slammed behind them. He grunted as she none-too-gently shoved him against the closed door until his back hit the wood.
“My show,” she said as though daring him to disagree.
He bit off his laugh. Sure, her show…for now.
“All right,” he said. “Your show. Can I make two requests?”
Her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she considered his question. “Let’s hear it. Then I’ll decide if I want to grant it.” One black eyebrow arched. Izzy was like a queen lording over her subject.
“I want to see you strip.”
Her eyes darkened. She liked that idea. “I think that can be arranged.”
“And I want your hair down.”
That made her hesitate. Each time he’d been around her, except the one day in the diner, she’d had her hair in that same tight Dutch braid, or whatever she called it. It was hot as fuck. With the buzzed sides, she looked like some sort of warrior from a dystopian movie. But that one time it’d been down, when he caught her off guard at the diner? She’d been stunning. Feminine, vulnerable, softer.
Probably all the reasons she never let it down.
“O-okay,” she said, a small hitch in her usually confident voice.
“Just for me,” he said.
A smile curved her gloss covered lips. “Just for you,” she whispered.
He got comfortable, resting against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Get to it, sweetheart.”
Something happened to her every time he called her “sweetheart.” Some of her sharp edges dulled, and she wasn’t quite so prickly.
Izzy shot him the sexiest, most teasing, smile he’d ever seen as she took two steps back. Far enough away, he couldn’t reach out and haul her in if he got tired of being hands off.
“No touching the merchandise,” she said wagging a finger at him that moved in time with the seductive sway of her toned hips. This might have been a stupid idea. He was already hard as a stone, and now he had to restrain himself as he watched her peel out of that skin-tight thing she called a dress.
One at a time, she lowered the straps off her shoulders and slid her arms out. The black dress was so tight it didn’t puddle at her feet, but stayed in place, giving him the same glimpse of cleavage that had been driving him wild all night.
Her gaze darkened as she hooked her thumbs in the top of the dress and did a little shimmy. Way too slowly for his comfort, she wiggled and tugged the dress down her body, over her hips, and then let it pool on the floor.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he took in the sight before him. Black strapless bra, black satin covering her bare mound, thin black ribbons tied in tiny bows on each side of her hips, and sky-high black booties any ol’ lady would high-five her for wearing.
