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“I do, but I’d like to feast my eyes on them again. Turn back to me. I’ve seen how gorgeous you look in the lingerie I make. Now I want to see how gorgeous you look out of it.”
Slowly, carefully, she turns to face me, revealing nearly every stunning inch of her. She’s ridiculously beautiful—the kind of angel fallen from the heavens men write poetry about. Innocence still flickers in her big eyes, making her all the more irresistible. She has no idea how dangerous she’s becoming, how easy it would be for her to hold a man’s soul in the palm of her hand.
Hell, I would sell mine in a heartbeat if that was what it took to ensure my mouth was on her skin in the next ten seconds. My cock jerks again, throbbing insistently in my pants, demanding to be allowed to attend the party.
Control. Must maintain control . . .
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, my jaw clenched in an attempt to keep from scaring her, but my next words still emerge as a growl. “Come. Here. Right now.”
She tosses her dark hair to the side again—God, she has a lot of hair, wild hair, all wavy and messy, the way I like it. “Now?” she asks, teasing me, apparently having no idea how close I am to the edge.
“Now,” I repeat, my voice harsh. By the time she glides to a stop in front of me, my restraint is wearing thin. From the edge of my seat, I reach out and, almost violently, yank her close. The air whooshes out of her lungs as she braces her hands on my shoulders, setting her breasts to bobbing so near to my face it almost kills me.
“Did I really drive you crazy?” she breathes, excitement and surprise clear in her gaze as she meets mine. “You still look fairly calm.”
I take her hand and plant it flush against my chest, covering it with my own. “Feel that?”
Her eyes widen as my heart does its best to jackhammer through my ribs. “Wow.”
“Indeed,” I agree, letting my gaze roam over every inch of her. “Do I have permission to touch, Stripper Goddess CJ?”
“Oh, yes, please,” she whispers, her fingers threading gently into my hair.
Carefully, I plant my hands on the backs of her thighs, drawing her closer then skimming my palms up over the ample curve of her ass. I can feel her tremble as I bend to kiss her belly, traveling to her navel, her hipbone.
“You taste like honey.” I open my mouth, my tongue swirling into the hollow near her hip, wanting to lick every inch of her at once.
I lower my face to the top of her blush-pink panties, pressing a kiss to the fabric, inhaling her sexy scent as I do.
“Graham,” she says my name so softly it barely registers.
“Yes, Butterfly?” I look up at her. Her brown eyes are fierce and strong, full of passion.
“There’s a problem with my panties.”
My brow knits. “What?”
“A big problem.”
“These panties were tested six ways to Sunday by the design team.” I shake my head. I can’t conceive of what possible problem there would be. The fit, the feel—everything looks like it’s made for her body. That’s what my team does. They make beautiful lingerie that hugs the woman who wears it.
The flicker of a smirk spreads on her face. “That’s not the problem.”
12
CJ
He stares at me with worry in his blue eyes.
He’s going to learn he has nothing to worry about.
And I’m about to experience something wholly new for me.
Stepping into the role of a seductress.
I lean closer to him, my breasts dangerously near his face, my lips moving closer to his ear. A thrill races through me at what I’m about to do, and I can barely hear him over the heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I’m not climbing a mountain or diving out of a plane, but to me this feels the same. I’m letting go of my safety harness and stepping into the sexual unknown. So far, he’s directed me. He’s told me what to do. I’ve cherished him taking the lead, and I want him to keep doing so.
But for a moment, I want to hold the reins.
My lips reach his earlobe, and I nip ever so gently on it. He groans like an animal, and the sound electrifies me. “The problem is,” I whisper, “that they’re still on.”
His breath hisses, and he grunts my name like it’s a forbidden word. “CJ.”
And then I take the next leap, telling him what I want. “Take them off,” I whisper.
A growl is my reward, masculine and husky and so damn sexy. “You had me going, and look at you. You’re teasing the teacher, and I fucking love it.”
I want to shout it worked, it worked, but I’m too turned on to do anything but melt into his touch. I thought I was turned on the last time we were alone, but this is even more intense, like tiny electrical shocks are racing across my skin.
