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“Sure,” Lake said as he pushed his office door closed with his toe.
“It means three days of hanging around other lingerie designers and salespeople.” She nibbled her bottom lip anxiously. “It won’t be much fun for you.”
Lake flicked the lock, securing them inside, away from prying eyes. “Will you be there?”
“Are you being deliberately dim? I’m the lingerie designer; it would be pretty pointless if you were there without me.”
“If you’re there, it will definitely be fun for me.”
“Lake”—her eyes turned liquid—“you shouldn’t say things like that unless you want me to get all mushy.”
“I like you mushy.” He liked her any way he could get her and suspected he would still feel the same way years from now. “You know what I was thinking this morning?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“I was thinking about the first time I showed you my scars.” He closed the distance between them, watching her pulse beat faster at the base of her throat. “This was your living room then.” He shuffled them sideways a few inches. “And we were standing about here when I stripped off to reassure you that you weren’t the only one with scars. It’s been a long time since then. We should do it again, just in case anything’s changed.”
Her emerald eyes sparkled up at him. “Didn’t we compare scars before we came in to work this morning?”
“No, we were definitely comparing other things this morning.” He grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head before throwing it onto the desk beside him, enjoying the way his wife’s eyes flared at the sight of his chest.
“Still so muscled.” Her palms ran up the center of his chest, teasing the hair that grew there. “I remember wondering how often you had to work out to stay this way. I’ve always loved your chest hair. Only there’s some gray in among the blond now.” She looked up at him through thick lashes. “It’s sexy.”
“Glad you think so, because there’s going to be a whole lot more gray over the next few years.” Although, he still worked out every day to ensure his body was in prime condition to age well—and to keep that look in his wife’s eyes.
“Mmm?” She wasn’t listening. Both hands were massaging his pecs, and for a second, he thought she planned to lean forward and take a bite.
“Your scars are nothing more than silver lines now,” he said as he traced the barely visible crisscrossed marks on her throat. His jaw clenched at the thought of her trapped in that car all those years ago, waiting to be rescued while her blood poured out.
A kiss to his jaw eased his tension. “That was a long time ago,” she soothed him. “Now I have my very own warrior to watch over me.”
“I’ll always watch over you. That’s my job. To keep you safe, so you don’t have to worry about anything and can just enjoy life.” He kissed her with slow, languorous touches until they were both breathing hard. “It’s also my privilege.”
“You were born in the wrong time.” She ran her fingers through his short hair. “You should have been a knight.”
“I think the role of
King Arthur would have suited me better. I like being in charge.” With a sweeping gesture, he slid her blouse from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
“Sneaky,” she said with breathless admiration. “I didn’t even feel you unbutton it.”
“I’m a man of many skills.” And then his words were stolen from him at the sight of her lingerie.
“You like?” Her voice broke through his daze.
“You weren’t wearing this when you left the house this morning.” The words came out as a hoarse croak.
She pushed her satin-covered breasts out toward him. “It’s that new fifties-inspired line I’ve been working on. What do you think?”
“I’d need to see all of it to make an informed decision.”
Her smile was pure seduction. “I can help with that.”
Slowly, steadily, her eyes still on him, she unzipped her skirt, and let it slide down her body to pool on the floor. She stepped out of it, standing before him in matching lingerie, the exact same color as her shoes.
That’s when he knew her visit to his shop had been more than an update on their travel plans—his wife wanted him. And didn’t that just make him feel like he was already King Arthur? Adjusting himself in his jeans, he perched against the edge of his desk and made a circular motion for her to turn.
With a knowing smile, she made a slow pirouette, swaying her hips with each tiny step. The panties were high cut at her thighs but came up almost to her belly button; the bra band under the cups was several inches thick and sat just above her belly button. The bra didn’t clasp at the back; instead, it fastened with several tiny pearl buttons. The band of the bra and its straps were made of a pale pink satin tartan. The cups were plain pink satin, and the panties were a mixture of both materials, with tartan panels over her hips. It covered more of her than most one-piece swimsuits. And was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
