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“Oh yeah?” I was captivated by his wit and charm. “Do tell,” I said, hoping for another good laugh. I figured something hilarious was going to spew forth from his perfectly symmetrical and full lips.
“I thought you knew,” he said.
“Knew what?”
His eyes moved up and down from my eyes to my chest several times.
I looked down at myself. My nipples were peeking through my top. It was emerald green, backless, and tied around my neck. And under the light we were currently under, it was a bit transparent. “Shit! You can see right through my shirt!” The timbre of my words was a high-pitched squeal.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a slow, deliberate swallow, his eyes still glued to my chest. “Yes, I’m very aware of that.” He cleared his throat, then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Are you wearing a bra?”
I locked eyes with him and didn’t hesitate answering. “Actually, no, I’m not.”
His eyes closed for a brief moment as he pressed his lips together. He opened his eyes slowly. “Might I ask, why not?”
“My bra, like me, are off-duty tonight.”
He barked out a laugh, and I couldn’t help but laugh right along with him. After a long pause, he asked, “Seriously?”
Clearing my throat, I told him with all seriousness, “Well, it’smynight off. I wanted to feel . . . free. Plus—” I turned to show him my back so he’d understand—“this shirt doesn’t allow for a bra.”
“Ah . . . I see.”
“And, I’m . . . blessed in the perkiness department—” I shrugged my shoulders—“so I don’t have to wear one unless I want to.”
His deep-sea blue eyes snapped to my chest again. “I see.” His words were followed by another laugh.
I rolled my eyes but chuckled. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. I definitely do.”
He must have x-ray vision. The look he gave me was making the V between my legs quiver and pulse with desire. “Anyway,” I deflected, trying to keep the excitement coursing through me from betraying my reply, “after being bound up the last day and a half with a bra, sports bra, or vest, I wanted to go commando.”
He almost spat out his drink. “Commando usually refers to your bottom half.”
“Oh, does it?” I fluttered my lashes and gave him a coquettish chuckle. “Hmm—well . . .” I trailed off, stirring my cocktail.
“Christ, you are trouble, aren’t you?”
“Mmm . . . maybe.”
“Damn.” The one word sounded conflicted but hopeful.
“Could you not stare at me like that?” I may have been slightly embarrassed, but I was more amused by Tyler than anything. I enjoyed the flirting and back-and-forth we were having.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was looking any particular way.” He shifted in his seat. “That look you’re giving me. Those eyes. Your lips. Well, let’s just say you’ve got a beautiful face.”
“Thank you.” I leaned forward a fraction. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”
“Thanks.”
I rolled my tongue around the tip of my straw and sucked, keeping my eyes locked on his.
His laugh rumbled through his chest. “Okay, you’ve really gotta stop.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m finding it very, very, very difficult to concentrate.” He squirmed in his seat, then reached down and adjusted himself. He gave me a mournful smile. “Sorry. It’s just hard to—”
