Page 23 of The Pleasure of Panic

I almost come just watching her tongue sweep across the peaked bit of flesh and swirl around the small, slightly darker circle of skin that surrounds it.

I can’t stop myself. I grab her tits and lift them both to my face, burying myself between them.

Her hands slip behind my neck, her long fingernails scraping against skin, sending a chill through my entire body.

“I think I need you naked,” I say, looking down at her. “Now.”

Her fingertips find the waistband of her trousers and one small jiggle later, they find their way over her curves and drop to the floor. She steps out of them, kicking them aside as she kicks off her shoes. And now she stands before me wearing only thigh-high stockings attached to a sexy garter belt. No panties. Just the belt.

“Jesus.” I say it out loud this time. “What the fuck?”

She smiles. Knowingly. Coyly. “You like? Or not?”

“Oh, I like,” I say. “I like very much. I just…”

“Didn’t expect me to be… what? Seductive underneath all that control?”

“Did you wear this for Jordan?” I ask.

“What?” She looks confused, which is cute on her.

I touch her hair, unable to resist feeling her softness. Such a surprise. “Jordan Wells. I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day. And hey”—I throw up my hands—“I’m not usually a guy who takes advantage of a woman after a crushing breakup, especially when said breakup occurs on V-day, ya know? But fuck it. I don’t give a shit. His loss, man.”

“You think I’m dating Jordan?”

“Well, you’re obviously dating someone. And you had dinner with him tonight. At the very sexy little tea room across from your work. So…”

“So what? That means I’m fucking him? He’s my lawyer.”

“OK,” I say, hands in the air. “But if you didn’t wear this for him, then who?”

“Well, I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Avoidance. Which annoys me. So I say, “Hey,” taking her chin in between my thumb and forefinger to tip her head up to me. “No-talking rule is still in effect.”

She shrugs. Which is her silent way of saying, You’re the one who brought it up, asshole.

I forgive her attitude. I mean, obviously she’s lying. She might be willing to play this little game with me tonight, but emotions are off limits. And I’m one hundred percent on board with that.

I started this day with too many emotions, filled with dread and an overwhelming desire to be alone. Wondering if I had any purpose at all. Wondering if coming to Denver was a mistake. Wondering if my whole life was a mistake.

But this woman brings something worth experiencing to the table. Her background is mysterious and seductive. Her small, curvy body is tantalizing. And the things she can do with her mouth… overwhelmingly entertaining.

I say, “Just so you understand. The kind of sexual ride I like to take comes with a dark underbelly. I like to lose control a little. I like to walk the edge. I like to push limits and create havoc.”

She stares up at me, blank. Then a coy smile creeps across her face. A smirk, like she knows things. She says—breaking the rules—“Is that a warning, Special Agent Murphy?”

“Take it any way you want. I’m just letting you know… there’s no point to pleasure without a little panic.”

CHAPTER FIVE - ISSY

“So you’re what? An adrenaline freak? A risk-taker? You thrive on fight-or-flight options? You like stormy waters and calm winds drive you crazy?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me. And stop talking.”

“Hey, you’re the one who opened up this whole line of questioning.” I’m acutely aware that I’m standing in front of him wearing sexy stockings and pretty much nothing else. I’m also acutely aware that his cock is spilling out of his open zipper, hard and straight, the tip red and swollen from me sucking on it, and glistening in the dim light coming in from my front windows. “And you’re obviously worried about the kind of freak flag you fly, because you figure I deserve a warning before we go any further, is that about right?”

His eye twitches. Most people would miss it. I’m not most people.