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His eyes hold mine. “I guess I’m waiting for Mrs. Right.”
I smile up at him. “Are you going to teach her bad things?” I tease.
“Fuck.” He pauses, his eyes drop to my lips. “I want to.”
My face falls.
Our eyes are locked, and you could cut the tension between us with a knife.
Wait, what? I was just teasing.
He pulls me closer on the counter toward him in a decidedly sexual manner.
I sip my tea, unsure what’s going on right now. “Don’t you mean… Mr. Right?” I whisper.
“Umm…yeah.” He takes my tea off me and puts it down on the counter. “Let’s get you out of that dress,” he whispers.
He lifts me off the counter and leads me into the bedroom. I feel close to him tonight; so close that it almost feels like…
He positions me before the full-length mirror in my bedroom. He stands behind me and then slowly slides the zipper down.
I watch him concentrate on his task, his eyes following the zipper. He slides one spaghetti strap off my shoulder, and then the other.
He bites his bottom lip as he slowly slides my dress down. It catches over my hips, and he uses his hands to work it loose.
This is nothing new. Nathan has seen me undress a million times before.
But this feels… sexual.
I stand before him in a white strapless bra and a G-string, with thigh-high nude stockings.
I watch him in the mirror as his eyes roam up and down my body, drinking me in.
I want to blurt out What the hell are you doing? but I don’t want to ruin the moment.
Whatever this moment is.
He stands closer and puts his hand on my stomach. We stare at each other in the mirror, and there’s an honesty between us.
Maybe it’s intimacy or maybe it’s just the champagne. At this point, anything is a possibility because none of this is making sense.
With his eyes locked on mine, he kisses my cheek with an open mouth.
My heart skips a beat.
He runs his fingers up my arms, and goosebumps scatter. “Nathan,” I whisper.
“Ssh,” he whispers, as if not wanting words to get in the way.
He lets me go and slowly unbuttons his shirt. I can see the ripples of his stomach muscles in the dimly lit room.
I feel arousal slam into my body like a freight train, slow, strong and measured.
Our eyes are locked in the mirror.
I turn toward him, and he picks up my hand and puts it onto his bare chest. It’s hot and hard under my touch. He rests his lips on my temple, and I close my eyes.
God, this is wrong.
