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Tate has to know I’ve been tracking her every move. She finally peers over her shoulder, scanning the room, looking, looking, looking. Her hazel eyes lock with mine and her mouth spreads into a slow smile. It’s astounding what that smile does to me. Before I think of the consequences, I tilt my head toward the door she just came through.
The gesture says, Follow me.
In the hallway, there are two separate bathrooms. They’re each formal and fancy, with decorative wallpaper, moody lighting, and burning candles on the marble counters. I stand at the door of the far one as I watch Tate turn the corner into the hallway wearing a perplexed expression.
“Showing me around?” she teases as she approaches.
I don’t steal a kiss from her then even though I want to. I take her arm and lead her inside the bathroom before closing the door behind us. That heavy thud is ominous. The swipe of the lock makes her gulp.
I’m not a villain, but my feelings for her almost feel villainous, extreme, all-consuming.
She still has her hospital bag slung on her shoulder, always too heavy for her to be lugging around everywhere. I take it and set it up on the counter.
“Did you bring clothes to change into?”
She doesn’t take her eyes off me. She’s tracking my every move. “They’re in my bag.”
“Get them out.”
She frowns, trying to figure out my angle. She wants me to put her fears to rest, but unfortunately, I can’t. She and I have been circling each other for weeks now. Finally, we’re alone in this bathroom.
When she doesn’t move, I reach into her bag and reverently lift out her folded black dress and heels to set them down on the counter, then I walk over to Tate and, without asking first, take the hem of her scrub top and start to slide it up to reveal her toned stomach. We’ve been here before. I helped her undress after the bar, but that was different for a million reasons. I was still holding back then, not only because I didn’t want to take advantage of her after she’d had a few glasses of wine, but because we hadn’t finished coming clean about our feelings.
I push her top up and then peel it off. She stands before me wearing a black bra with frilly lace adorning each cup. It’s too sexy for work. Jesus. She wore this all day, expecting to see me here after. I imagine her picking it out this morning with the intention of driving me wild.
I trace the edge of each cup first with my eyes and then with my pointer finger.
“Someone will need the bathroom soon,” she says with a breathy voice.
I watch how swiftly her chest rises and falls. Erratic, excited, scared.
Her hands fist by her sides.
“There’s another one,” I say with an indifferent tone and a shrug before bending down and kissing the swell of each breast. I feel her heart there, pounding hard with anticipation.
God, she smells good.
I stand back up and she lifts her eyes, watching me through her dark lashes. I reach for one of the dainty straps of her bra and slip two fingers underneath it like I’m going to tug it off. Instead, I run my fingers from her shoulder down over her collarbone and then back. Her skin is so soft, her breaths so short, even from this.
I decide to leave her bra in place as I untie her scrub bottoms. Her panties are also divinely, heavenly black. They cut up high over her hips, making it so her legs stretch on forever once she finishes stepping out of her pants and shoes. She wiggles her toes in her white cotton socks, and it makes me smile.
“Are you going to dress me now?” she asks, tipping her head to the side as her gaze roves over me. “Don’t we need to get back to the party…?”
She’s presenting me with the responsible option, but it sounds like she’s hoping for the exact opposite.
I casually lean back against the counter. “Do you want to go back to the party, Tate?”
She folds her arms across her stomach while she looks back over her shoulder, at the door, as if to listen for what’s going on out there. Josh and Sophia only just arrived. Because he went over his plan with us a thousand times, I know they’re going to eat their dinner first. It’ll include cocktails, an appetizer, entrees, and then finally, they’ll get to dessert. We have a good while to stall before then. We could go back out, Tate could chat with Josh’s Memaw, or…not.
She seems to come to the same conclusion I do because she lets her arms drop to her sides. Then there’s a subtle change about her, in her expression mostly. That innocent, scared look morphs into a determined sort of wickedness that sets my body on fire as she reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra. The black straps and all that sweet frilly lace slip off her chest, and then she dangles her bra on one finger, holding it out for me to take and put with the rest of her clothes.
