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***
Chapter 9
Cici
“This is going to be awful,” I said out loud. Frantically I pawed through my drawers. Brady was going to be at my door in less than five minutes. Five minutes. And I had no underwear. None on my body and barely anything in my drawers.
After my call with Beth, I’d cleansed my apartment of any and all scandalous garments worn with other men. Kevin’s favorite cheeky pair. Dorian’s kinky black corset. I’d tossed them all into the garbage.
Then I’d gotten hung up at work and never made it to the store again. Groaning, I held up a pair of beige cotton panties with tiny rosebuds on them. They looked like they belonged on an evidence table, not on my ass. “This is not an option.”
I would die before I let Brady Martinez see me in those. Not to mention the fact that the slinky dress I had would show every line and crease these cotton monsters would throw at me. It was moments like these that I wished I was Cici from five years ago, the one who lived side by side with Beth, who would lend me a pair of slutty underwear in a heartbeat.
But the world's smallest violin was playing for me today. My smoking-hot date was probably waiting outside, and I was out of options.
My head jerked to the mirror. Oh my gosh. It was so obvious. I rose up on my toes, turning slightly to see how the dress looked in the bright lights. “Thank God,” I murmured to myself. It wasn’t even a little transparent, and the sheen of the dress hid my flesh easily.
I was going to go commando.
I grinned. If I didn’t have anything sexy for him to take off, then I would surprise him with something else entirely. Two heavy knocks sounded from my living room. Giving my breasts one last tuck, I grabbed my bag and strutted out into the living room.
My smirk was firmly in place as I opened the door. I was finally ready for him. I just wondered if he was ready for me.
***
Brady
I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Cici I was a late bloomer. I’d been blessed with big ears, a skinny neck, and all ninety-five pounds of me was as uncoordinated as a three-leg giraffe. Even my mother had once admitted she wasn’t sure I’d ever grow out of it. In a desperate attempt to give me some confidence and a little bit more grace, she’d enrolled me in the ballroom classes.
Over the years, I’d gotten pretty decent. I’d become a decent leader, and my head and body finally grew into my ears. The change in my confidence had been incredible, only helped by the long line of high school girls who suddenly took interest in my scrawny ass.
But no amount of dance classes or natural skill would’ve stopped me from stumbling when Cici stepped out of her apartment. She was wearing a deep, ruby-red dress, the velvet texture teasing my arousal with the thoughts of letting my hands wander and tease. Every curve, every line of her body was highlighted, as if she wanted me to see, to learn every part of her.
I was more than up for the challenge.
“You look incredible,” I said, leaning in to brush my lips over the edge of her cheek.
“So do you,” she responded in kind, her fingers lingering on my shoulders when I leaned in.
Hot, heavy need speared me as she turned and tucked herself against my side. I gritted my teeth as I let my hand wind around her body to rest casually against one curving, slim hip.
She was going to kill me. Forget the red meat and wine, I was going to have a heart attack just looking at her. And now Cici was giggling, her eyes bright with laughter.
“What?” I stuffed the lingering doubts and worries from my mind.
“Nothing. I just think that if Cici from a month ago could see me, she'd faint.”
“Well, that makes two of us. But Brady for a month very much wanted this moment.” I let myself glance down at her. She was in sky-high heels again, bringing her almost level with me. I forced myself to keep my gaze on her face, to not give in the temptation of letting my eyes wander south. I knew the dress was cut low. I’d noticed it immediately. But now, they were so close…
“Good, I’m glad,” Cici said softly, leaning her head against my shoulder in a gut-tightening show of affection.
I could feel her breasts against my arm. My feet faltered on the sidewalk. I stopped, staring down at her. She blinked at me, slowly, then leaned in again.
She knew exactly what she was doing. Minx.
“Cecelia, if you keep tempting me, I will turn around, throw you over my shoulder, and march your sweet ass right back into your apartment.” Her sharp intake of breath only made me push on. “And if we make it to your apartment, we aren’t leaving for dinner.” I dragged my gaze over her. “Hell, we may not make it out for breakfast. Do you understand me?”
Cici’s chest was rising and falling over and over against my arm. She wanted me. Maybe as badly as I wanted her.
