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“Okay,” I said with a nod.
“The same goes for you,” he commanded. “I won’t fucking share you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I assured him.
“Like hell I don’t,” he groused. “You’re gorgeous. I know you’ve got tons of guys sniffing after you.”
“The only one who I’ll allow to sniff me is you,” I said with a laugh, my insides doing cartwheels at the thought of being with him.
“My schedule changes all the time,” he stated. “I’m not a guy who punches a time.”
“I’m a surgeon who sometimes works forty-eight-hour shifts straight,” I pointed out. “Don’t expect me to be waiting at home for you in an apron with a pot roast in the oven.”
“Now that’s a damn fine fantasy,” he teased. “I’ve got to find a way to get you in nothing but an apron so I can fuck you from behind while you’re bent over the kitchen table.”
My eyes widened.
Boxer smirked. “You like that idea.”
“Imightlike that idea.”
“We’ll have to make that happen,” he said, his voice soft yet husky.
“Boxer?”
“Yeah, Doc?”
“Can we please stop talking now and get to the fun part?”
“Hell yeah,” he stated.
I stepped back, only far enough so that I could lift the tank top over my head and toss it aside. His eyes seemed to turn even more liquid as he stared at me.
We hadn’t gotten undressed the night we’d been together. Even though we’d slept together, tonight was the night we were going to be intimate.
He pushed away from the dresser and took a step toward me. He reached out to graze the curve of my breast.
I’d worn a demi cup black satin bra.
His fingers skimmed lightly across my flesh in an achingly slow manner. “I didn’t get to see much of you that night. Damn shame. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
My skin continued to heat under his penetrating stare and sensuous touch.
He was going slow. Too slow.
I reached around to unclasp my bra and then let it fall off my body. But I didn’t stop there. I bent over to get rid of my heavy, leather biker boots and then undid the leather pants so I could slither out of them.
My skin immediately cooled.
I stood before him in nothing but a black thong.
“You have too many clothes on,” I admonished with an arch of my brow.
His lips curved into a grin. “Demanding, are you?”
“Yes.”
He set his pistol on the nightstand, and then he slowly removed his leather cut to place it on the top of the dresser. Boxer lifted the hem of his T-shirt and then tossed it aside.
