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If she had a magic wand, she would make this month be over already. But she didn't, so all she had to do was speed things up so they could part ways forever.
“Turn around.” She ordered him. She wasn’t going to give him a free strip show either.
“No.” He ambled past her, and subconsciously she inhaled his cologne. She turned to see him take a seat on a heavy leather sofa. “Don't ever mistake me for a gentleman, Ms. Reid.”
Fresh heat rose to her skin at his dark warning. She had indeed made a deal with the devil himself. All right then.
“You're now testing my patience.”
“Okay, fine, already,” she groused, throwing her hands up into the air in defeat.
If he wasn't going to turn around, then she would, which wasn’t the best option, but she’d rather show him her butt instead of her boobs since he was going to see her butt anyway.
She knew getting out of the dress was going to be a mission. It didn't just slide onto her body before. Marcy had to wrestle her into it with much pulling and tugging. The extended slit he had given didn’t help much, and she had to be careful not to do any more damage to Marcy’s dress.
She removed his jacket, then put his shirt on, never more grateful that the dress was strapless. She then began huffing and puffing, almost giving herself a cramp in her side as she tried to drag the thing off her hips.
His scent weakened her all over again, and she stopped herself from holding his shirt to her face and inhaling until she felt dizzy. What was wrong with her? She should be using all her focus on not stumbling over while she divested herself of the skin-tight dress. What if she couldn’t get it off her hips? Panic started to set in. It didn’t help that behind her Hunter McLeod sat like an entitled king, in full view of her, watching her body move like a worm to get out of the dress.
That did it for her. She wasn’t going to prolong her presence in his company a moment longer. She held her breath and used both her hands to inch the fabric down. Finally, she managed to get it off, and quickly fastened the buttons on his shirt, then spun around and glared at him, panting from her exertions.
“Happy?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm as she blew her hair out of her face.
He patted his knee. “Come here.”
Ugh.
She raised her chin and walked toward him, then stopped. She had no idea what to do. Not what, but how. He gestured for her to drape herself across his lap. But how?
She placed her hand on his shoulder, and good grief, the solid muscle under her palm singed her. That wasn't going to help, so she pulled her hand back.
“Should I just...?” She waved her hand across his lap.
“Yes,” he said with a grin. He was of no help at all. “Come, Ms. Reid, I don't have all night.”
She bent down and put her hand on his knee and looked downright stupid.
“This is utterly ridiculous,” she muttered. The only way was headfirst, and she was getting annoyed with herself for trying to avoid the inevitable, so she just did it. She laid herself across his lap and then forgot to breathe altogether.
The touch of her abdomen against his muscle-encased thighs and his heat on her made her squeak involuntarily.
He placed one of his large hands on the small of her back, halting any clumsy attempt to get as far away from him as possible in the space of his lap. But the weight of his palm seemed to... drown her. She was not going to get stupid right now. The man was going to spank her, for crying out loud.
But then, as he slipped his other hand under the fabric of the shirt, her thoughts crashed into each other. The purring heat in her body gained momentum as his palm slid further up and superseded every other thought she’d ever had.
He lifted the shirt off her bottom, rendering her helplessly exposed. She groaned in embarrassment, yet she couldn't deny the wetness gathering between her thighs.
What in the heck was happening to her? She squirmed in his lap, trying to get away from him.
“Keep still,” he murmured.
Effortlessly, he lifted her closer, and everything inside her exploded as the hard bulge in his pants pressed against her. His slow indrawn breath contrasted with her chaotic one.
She seemed to be suspended in some nerve-wracking anticipation, of what she didn't know.
He caressed her softly now, touching the backs of her thighs and stroking her backside gently. He fed her skin an odd selection of deliciousness and unidentifiable darkness that had more wetness pooling in her pussy.
His fingers slipped between her thighs. Then he ran the tips of his fingers from his right hand over the sleekness at her center. With just a single digit, he traced her pussy, and she shuddered at the blatant touch. No man had ever touched her there before.
