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Instead, I draw her further into the room. I tilt up her chin, kiss her mouth, gently turn her around and find the zipper tab at the back of her dress.
Slowly, I begin pulling it down, exposing her lovely shoulders to my eyes.
Her skin is pale gold in the lamplight. It begs to be kissed and I oblige, kissing the nape of her neck, and as I kiss, I bring the zipper lower and lower until the dress lies open to the base of her spine.
Just below the zipper, I see a hint of black.
I touch my finger to it. It’s silk. Panties. Black silk panties. I hold her by the hips, bend to her, kiss that sliver of silk.
Bailey moans. Her hands bunch at her sides.
I slip my hand inside the dress.
The silk is as warm and smooth as her skin. I remind myself to go slow, but I can’t resist turning her to face me, then sliding my hand between her thighs…
Cupping her.
Ah, God!
She’s hot as flame. And wet. She’s soaked, and I don’t know which of us moans first, she or I, as all that heat and dampness kisses my palm.
I look at her face She’s more than beautiful. Her head is thrown back. Her lashes are lowered. Her lips are parted and her cheeks are flushed.
I clasp her shoulders.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
I want her watching me as I undress her.
As I make love to her.
As I make her mine.
Slowly, her lashes lift.
Even more slowly, I draw the blue silk dress down. When it reaches her breasts, she clasps my wrists.
I kiss her.
She lets go of my wrists. I lower my head and kiss the lovely slope of her breasts.
She is breathing hard. Sighing. Trembling.
I tug at the dress. It slides to her waist. To her hips.
It falls to the floor. I take her hand and she steps free of it.
I groan.
The sight of her is beyond anything I’ve imagined and now, in a rush of sharp honesty, I know I’ve been living this in my dreams for a long time, this moment of seeing what was hidden within those baggy suits, because some part of me always knew my Bailey was like this.
Lovely. Incredibly lovely.
And look at what she’s wearing!
A lacy black bra that makes an offering of her breasts. Panties that are nothing more than a tiny black triangle. And, sweet Jesus, thigh high stockings with those spiked heels…
“Casey,” she whispers.
