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Brick didn’t seem to feel it was twisted.
The other dress had made her stomach churn. This one produced playful butterflies, just as him holding onto the other end of the bra had done. Mixing sexual intensity between them with the right lighter emotions.
The dress was totally her. Sexy and fun, an undeniable touch of the sweet. With a woman’s intuition of what that hint of innocence would do to his senses, the arousal in her lower belly tightened, a better stimulation increased by the most important thought of all.
He'd picked out the dress.
A tap on the top of the door, and she saw his big hand holding strappy black sandals with block three-inch heels. They’d look good with the dress, while the block style would keep her from ending up on her ass.
She reached up to take them, and his fingers overlapped hers. “Do you like the dress?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Come out here and let me see.”
“Okay. Let me put on the shoes for the full effect.”
She slipped them on and, before she turned the door latch, she fluffed out her hair.
He’d moved back a few paces. She could view herself in the trio of mirrors outside the fitting rooms, but instead she merely stepped in front of them, so he could see her from all angles. The choice not to look at herself was done for a deliberate reason she could tell he recognized. And liked.
While wearing the other dress, she thought he’d given her a thorough look. Now she knew that wasn’t true, because this was what thorough meant. He covered every inch of flesh exposed or hinted at beneath the sheer parts, as well as her curves molded by the solid fabric. She could feel his awareness of what was beneath, that transparent bra that would show him her taut nipples. When the dress was removed, he would tease her through the mesh with mouth or fingers.
The thinness of the bra and the dress couldn’t conceal her physical reaction to the thought. Hunger flashed through his eyes. “It needs one adjustment,” he said.
She frowned, suddenly uncertain. But as he approached, he put his hands on her upper arms, caressed her collar bone, and freed the necklace from where it had been left beneath the embroidered bodice. She was used to having it against her skin, but she didn’t mind the change. Not when she saw his territorial expression as he made the cross and badge visible. The pressure of his fingers sent a ripple of sensation through her cleavage and lower. She curled her hands over his forearms.
“If you’d liked the other dress,” Brick said, “it would have shown, and I would have liked it, too. I don’t want you to be anything you don’t want to be, Les. You’re a good Catholic girl. I like that about you. And I love this dress on you.”
When he brought his mouth to hers, he let the kiss spin out a few long seconds. Somewhere she heard a female voice murmur, “Lucky bitch,” but it was said in the way Beulah would do it. Good-natured female envy, probably backed by a heartbeat skip, an echo of her much stronger reaction.
When Brick raised his head, he held her gaze. “And an even luckier bastard,” he said.
She was able to hold onto the good feeling through the afternoon. Brick stopped to pick up a few groceries, getting her input so he could offer her a better selection of snacks and drinks. Though she insisted anything was fine, he was far better at insisting than she was.
However, even as he was caring for her, she noted how often he was getting texts. He also took a couple phone calls. He’d taken off work for her, at a time when he hadn’t planned for that. So when they arrived at his place, she told him she needed to do some studying. Which was true, but would allow him to get some work done, too.
“Sounds good,” he agreed. “But you should take a nap if you can. I’ll wake you in time to get dressed for the party.”
“Maybe. All right.” She snagged a nut and fruit snack pack and a soda, and settled on the sofa in the living room. While being able to hear and see him as he worked in the kitchen, the position allowed her to concentrate. In theory.
She’d had a lot of practice tuning out her surroundings when studying. He was far more distracting than the norm. However, eventually the details of his phone conversations blurred to a reassuring background rumble.
Reviewing the ER rotation exam info and not connecting it to what she could have done differently that night was more difficult. Fortunately, her body seemed to be aligned with his suggestion—or maybe it responded to him as a Dom even more than her mind did. Her eyelids kept drooping. As she often did in her room, at length she fell asleep. Her body sank into the hold of the couch, the tablet resting against her side.
She didn’t feel him remove it and put it on the table. Or spread the fleece throw over her. Her subconscious did register the press of his mouth, and she kissed him back, with a murmur of pleasure.
As Brick sat by her, stroking her hair, he remembered what she’d said to Rufus. That when she dreamed, she tried to fix what she’d done, and waking to the jarring realization there was no do-over turned it into a nightmare.
He’d seen her concern about his work, but there was always work to do. He’d knocked out a couple reports and handled his email, which was enough for today. He adjusted her so she was lying in his arms, across his lap, and made sure her sleep wasn’t disturbed, even by her own mind.
When Brick woke her, as promised, he’d given her plenty of time to do her hair and makeup. As Les laid the dress on the guest room bed, her phone buzzed. Beulah was texting her a few cheerful things, keeping her connected with what was happening on campus. Les thought about sending a text to make her roommate’s eyes pop open.
Going to a bondage party with the fireman.
She suppressed a smile, then saw another text had come in while she was napping. Her stomach did a sick flipflop.
It was from Dr. Portland, confirming the exact time for the M&M and reminding her that Legal wanted to meet with her that morning before it. They’d do that in Dr. Portland’s office.
