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She looked sideways at me. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
"Consider me all ears."
She kicked off her shoes, and for just a few seconds I saw the soft flesh of her thighs as she curled her feet beneath her dress. Despite his abuse earlier, my cock was interested in coming out to play again.
"Well, where should I start? Bill, age thirty-one, seemed like a good guy—decent job, reasonably nice looking and dressed professionally. Then I learned that his mother still lays out his clothes for him every day after she cooks and washes and irons everything for him."
I chuckled. "A mama's boy, looking for a younger version to take care of him."
"Exactly! I thought things were going to pick up when Mrs. Claussen wanted to introduce me to her grandson, Mark. He's a baseball player. I love baseball, so I allowed myself to get my hopes up. It turns out Mark is about two inches shorter than I am." She grimaced. "I mean, I know he can't help his size, and I hate to hold that against him, but at the end of the day, I'd rather lay my head on a guy's chest then the other way around." She glanced down at her dress and pulled at the material covering her chest. "When he drooled on me, that was it. I was done."
I stared where her fingers were. Sure enough, there was a darker spot on the inner curve of her left breast where it strained against the material. I squirmed again, thinking of how I'd like to be the one who got to put his mouth near her tits.
"And do you know what position he plays?"
Position? I can imagine myself in all kinds of positions with you, doll. I caught her staring at me, waiting. Oh, yeah. Baseball.
"Shortstop?" I offered, grasping for the first word that popped into my head, desperately trying to recall baseball stats in my head to calm my reaction to her.
"Yes! How cliché can it get?"
I couldn't help but laugh.
"But the best of all was Martin, who is very musically talented. It seems he's a master accordion player."
She glared at me when I snorted. "Oh, it gets better. He said, and I quote, 'how lucky I was to be with him because he knew how to press all my buttons while he pumped my bellows.'" She shuddered.
A sharp burst of laughter escaped me. If he thought that would get him laid, he must be a total dumbass.
It was unusual for me to spend this much time listening to a woman talk, especially about herself. I enjoyed Grace’s banter, though. It was a refreshing change from women who talked about trivial things that were only of interest to them. Not only was I caught up in her amusing antidotes, but I also couldn't stop staring at her. Despite the woefulness of her dating adventures, her eyes sparkled telling me that underneath it all, she still saw the humor in it. I came to a few immediate conclusions: she was more beautiful than I'd first thought, she made me laugh, not something that often happened in my world, and I hadn't thought about work in the past several minutes. It took me a few seconds to realize she was still talking to me.
"I'm truly sorry about earlier. I was trying to escape Bellows Boy."
"I'm completely recovered. But I think you owe me."
"Oh. I guess that depends on what you have in mind."
I couldn't not touch her anymore. I pulled on a curl that fell in front of her ear, allowing my fingers to brush her cheek. It was as soft and smooth as it looked. "A dance?"
There was an awkward moment of silence while she seemed to assess something about me. She slipped her feet back out from her dress.
"I'd like that."
I swept down and scooped up her shoes. I squatted in front of her, slipping the painful looking satin material atop three-inch spikes onto her feet.
"Like Cinderella," she whispered.
"I assure you, I'm no prince," I answered darkly, wrapping my hand around her delicate ankle. I stood and offered my hand. When she hesitated, I leaned closer and winked at her. "But I promise I won't drool on you."
I moved my eyes to her curves and back again. Her cheeks flushed, but she placed her hand in mine and allowed me to help her stand. I didn't release her hand, and she didn't pull away. I breathed in her soft, sweet scent and fought the impulse to bring her tight against me. Standing in her heels, she was still a couple of inches shorter than me. I continued my thoughts as I leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "If my mouth was anywhere near your breasts, I guarantee they'd be too full of them to drool."
"Oh," she gasped, her jaw working up and down before closing altogether. "That's..."
Her breathing grew short and uneven, and her long fingers trembled in my hand. Her other hand landed on the lapel of my suit jacket as she swayed toward me. Long lashes blinked over dark blue eyes as she stared into mine. It seemed she finally had run out of things to say.
When she leaned into me, I put my arm around her waist to hold her there. Fuck, she felt so...so right in my arms. I curled my fingers and brushed the back of them along her cheek. Her eyes flickered over mine, and her lips parted.
"Why didn't you ask me to dance?" she whispered. Her eyes dropped to stare at my chest as she shook her head as if trying to shake off a trance. "Earlier I mean."
