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“Yes.” Her breath hitched when he dragged his hands up and pushed her skirt to her hips. Her panties were black. “Lauren. And Isabelle.”
“Did you get lots of presents?”
She raised her hand to her chest. “This necklace,” she said, “and now you.”
“Very pretty,” he said, but his gaze dropped quickly back to her thighs. Her legs flexed when she shifted. He smoothed his hands over the strong muscles.
“How was your—” her breath caught when his rising hands brushed the front of her panties “—climb?”
“I’m sore, but it was great.”
“Your arms?”
“Yeah. Arms. Shoulders.”
“Take off your shirt,” she said.
He wasn’t going to say no to that. Gabe shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his shirt.
“Mmm,” she murmured, her hands going to his shoulders. She stroked him gently, her fingers trailing from his neck down to his biceps and then back up. Every nerve in his body tingled to life at the soft touch.
Then she gripped his shoulders more firmly and dug her thumbs into the muscles near his neck. “Here?” she asked.
Gabe closed his eyes at the shock of wonderful pain. “God, yes.” She rubbed slow circles into his sore spots. He relaxed into it, letting his lips part to take in a deep breath. Her thumbs slid higher and pressed deep again. Gabe sighed.
“Is this what you look like when you fuck, Gabe?” she whispered.
His eyes popped open.
She was watching his mouth. She licked her lips. “I like talking to you after I’ve had a few drinks. I get to say the things I’m really thinking.”
“You can say what you’re thinking anytime you want. Are you always this dirty?”
She smiled as if he’d complimented her. “No. Yes. I mean... I have these thoughts. I know all these things, Gabe. I’ve read so much about sex. I get turned on thinking about it. I look at beautiful men and I imagine filthy things. But it’s always a little removed. Wondering what they’d be like in bed. Wondering if I’d actually like it with them. It’s like...”
She frowned and shifted her hands again to find another place. Gabe shivered with pleasure as he waited for her to continue.
“It’s like I want to feel dirty, but I can’t. It’s intellectual. Something I’ve read about. But with you, it’s...real.” That last word seemed to make her feel self-conscious. She winced a little and added, “Maybe.”
“Veronica—”
“No. You don’t need to say anything. I just want to touch you for a little while.” One of her hands slid up his neck to dig into the muscles there. The other slipped over his shoulder and down his chest.
His brain couldn’t quite process the two different kinds of pleasure. One deep and bordering on pain, and the other just the sweep of her fingers over his skin. Combined with the strange seduction of her words, Gabe’s cock was heavy and hard.
He opened his eyes. “Don’t you think you should take your shirt off, too?”
“I’m wearing a dress,” she breathed.
“Let me help with that.” He slid his hands around her waist and up her back to find the zipper. The sound of it was loud as he pulled it down, an unmistakable prelude.
She didn’t stop touching him until he tugged down the modest neckline and eased the dress off her arms. The red fabric pooled around her waist. Her breasts were still covered by the black material of her bra.
Gabe reached for the front clasp of the bra slowly, giving her a chance to stop him. But she only watched his hands as if he were performing a trick. With a twist of his fingers, the bra fell away, and her breasts were naked.
He’d seen her in the dark. Felt her. Tasted her. But here in the lamplight of her apartment, she looked impossibly pretty. Her skin was so pale against the black fabric. Her nipples were pink and small. Her breasts would barely fill his palm.
A tinge of red crept down her chest and she raised her hands to cover her breasts.
