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When I heard him at the door, I darted into the bathroom.
“Indy?” he called tentatively. “Can we please talk?”
“Not right now, Levi. I’m getting ready.”
“I know, I just—”
“Hey,” I cut him off, peeking my head out of the bathroom. “The other day you wouldn’t talk to me when I wanted to discuss Josh. So now I guess we’re even.”
He flinched when I threw his words back at him. “Fine, but this isn’t over. I’ll get ready somewhere else.”
“That would be great,” I said as he retrieved his tux from the closet.
After showering, I slathered myself in lotion and dabbed perfume behind my ears, then I stepped into a pair of black lace panties I’d thrown in my suitcase “just in case.” The delicate triangle of lace just covered me, and the back was nearly a thong, skimming high over my hips. I pulled up my black lace bustier that pushed my small breasts together in a way that actually gave me cleavage and dabbed a little perfume there too for good measure. My finger was still between my breasts when the door opened, and Levi’s shocked face reflected at me in the mirror. He stood in the doorway, mouth slack and eyes glued to my ass.
“Close the door, please, or you’re going to give everyone in the hallway a nice show,” I said as I slipped an earring through my ear, trying to appear unbothered by his reaction when I could feel the heat pooling in my stomach and between my legs.
Levi let the door fall closed behind him and, still rooted to the spot as if I’d turned him into a pillar of salt, whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready. Is that not obvious?” I slipped my feet into my heels, and stood tall, daring him to look his fill.
“I should go,” he mumbled but remained planted to the spot.
“I’m not stopping you.” Our eyes met again and he looked like he’d taken a sucker punch to the gut. “Can you hand me my dress first?”
He tore his eyes away from me and plucked the green satin dress from the bed, mumbling, “This is a handkerchief not a dress.”
“It’s a vintage mini from the ’70s. Nonna wore it to parties in Rome.”
“Nonna Gina wore this?” He held it out to me, envisioning no doubt my demeure grandmother who used to make him lasagna on weekends. “She must have been popular back then, showing her hooha to the entire country.”
I snorted and snatched it from him. “Did you just say her hooha?”
“It’s one of the few acceptable terms for a grandmother’s lady bits—which we should not be discussing by the way.”
“You’re the one who brought it up. So what are the other acceptable terms?” I arched an eyebrow at him as I stepped into the dress, giving him a good view of my exceptional cleavage, and slid the soft material over my hips. It was snug, strapless, and short. My legs were arguably my best asset, and I was determined to show them off tonight.
Levi raised his eyes to the ceiling. “The only other acceptable terms are pudenda and See You Next Tuesday.”
“For a grandmother? See You Next Tuesday?”
“It’s a euphemism.”
“For cunt,” I scoffed and smiled wickedly when Levi stiffened, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Reaching behind my shoulder, I tugged ineffectively at the zipper. I couldn’t resist teasing him again, in fact I was taking wicked pleasure in it.
“Personally, I prefer ‘pussy.’ As euphemisms go, it really hits the sweet spot. Soft, warm, and when you touch it just right it purrs.” I swept up my hair in a loose chignon, playing with the wavy strands that framed my face. “But I like cunt too. It’s short and to the point.”
Levi coughed. “Can we . . . talk about something else?”
“I thought all men liked talking about pussy?”
“Diana,” he warned. “Language!”
“I don’t need to watch my language, Levi. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman.”
He towered over me, face inches from mine, eyes sea-storm gray. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
Then his palms were on my shoulders and he was spinning me around. For a thrilling second I thought he might bend me over the countertop and spank me. Instead, he yanked up my zipper roughly, grazing the skin of my back and making my nipples harden.
