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A wave of lust slams into me, causing an ache between my thighs. It’s a completely different sensation with no underwear on. I’ll admit that I like it. It feels like someone could find out at any moment that I’m bare underneath my dress.
And now that Griffin’s here, the full effect of no panties is at play.
“They had us come through the back doors and I got turned around.” He motions to the door behind him.
I wave him off. “No problem. I’m just in here killing time until this whole thing is over.”
He looks around the room. “Until what thing is over? The woman outside said something about a surprise?”
Damn it, Lydia. She’s like a warden, making it impossible to escape this ordeal at every turn. I could lie and escape my fate of humiliation, but the way he’s looking at me right now, like he’s so damn happy to see me, makes the truth come out.
“All the ladies took lap dance lessons before you got here,” I tell him.
“You took a lap dance lesson?” He chuckles. Either the idea as a whole or the fact that he knows I’m not a good dancer is amusing.
“Yeah, and I’m no better at dancing than I was before.” I want him to know that no miracles have occurred. I’m still the rhythmless dancer I was prior to this evening’s festivities.
“You must not have had a good teacher.” He smirks.
His words remind me of our night in Vegas. His Bad Teacher routine at the revue and then his hands on me at the club as he instructed my moves.
“She was pretty good. Way more flexible than any person should be, but that’s my tight hamstrings talking.”
At my joke, Griffin’s smile expands, his dimple now winking at me.
My chest struggles to expand. Oh, and it feels like someone just threw a bucket of water up my dress.
“We don’t have to do it. It’s kind of ridiculous. Besides, no one will know if we just sit and talk.” I set my clutch on the table, drop onto the loveseat and cross my legs. The motion, adding pressure where I desperately need it, makes my pulse pound. I do my best to sound unaffected. “So, how’s your night going?”
Griffin moves toward the loveseat.
“It’s better now.” His eyes scan me from head to toe. I swear they linger on the spot where my dress hem meets my thighs. There’s no way he can know I have no underwear on, but the thought of it makes me squeeze my legs tighter. Makes me think of his text from earlier.
I’d spread your smooth thighs and lick that sweet pussy of yours.
I think he’s going to take a seat but then he extends his hand for me to take. I stare at his hand for a beat, then lift to meet his gaze. As always, it’s warm and assuring, but tonight there’s an edge to it.
Using his hand for support, I stand.
“I want to see you dance.”
Griffin guides me in front of him, then takes a seat.
I swallow thickly, my nerves creeping back in.
He reaches forward, his fingers brushing the back of my thigh as his thumb caresses my knee.
“Please.”
Manners are so sexy. So is the way he’s looking up at me. Like he wants it. Badly. It reminds me of how he looked at me in the shower yesterday. I’m becoming addicted to that look. It’s my favorite, especially when no one is around. No one watching to observe that he’s an attentive, loving husband. It’s just me and him in this tiny room.
I roll my shoulders back. Fine. If Griffin wants a lap dance, he’s going to get one. Nobody said it was going to be good. But I don’t think that’s what he’s expecting anyway.
I reach down and pluck the tumbler from his hand, then lift it to my lips. I recognize the scent. Barrett’s favorite scotch. Macallan. I toss it back, then wipe my mouth as the liquid burns its way down my throat.
“Feel better?” Griffin asks when I set the glass down on the table.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
