"Can't see anything. It's dark, we're in our driveway and I'm in front of you. I won't let anyone see you, Sam. I don't share, in case I wasn't clear on that topic."
"Not with anyone?" Her lips quivered in a near smile, a tight one because her pulse was speeding up. He'd dropped to one knee so he could lean farther into the doorway, his energy pressing in around her.
"You know the answer to that. Chris is different." His gaze softened. "I know where I want to take this tonight, Sam. As soon as you give me the answer to one question, I'm going to start down that road, and I'm not going to stop until we get where we both want to go."
Thank God. As she processed all the titillating possibilities, he touched her lips with his thumb, his other fingers caressing her jaw, her throat. "There are no wrong answers. No matter what you say, I'm still going down that road. You have a problem with that?"
She shook her head. "Is . . . is that the question?"
"No. This is." A smile touched his lips, though his gaze remained serious. "Am I forgiven? Don't lie to me." A quick flare of heat in his expression accompanied that admonition, twirling a feather of sensation in her chest. She would have put a white lie out there, just to make things go more smoothly, but he was right. Raw honesty was what made this moment all the more potent. And real.
"No, not yet," she said. "I . . . It hurt, and I'm still a little mad."
He nodded, simple acceptance. "I'm still sorry." His gaze passed over her again, taking even more time, lingering on her mouth, the quick rise and fall of her breasts. "How would you feel about Chris and me sharing you, Sam? Over and over, all night long, making you serve our needs?"
She'd tell him, as soon as her vocal cords unlocked. Fortunately, he wasn't done. "I'm sure he's had as many fantasies about you as I have."
"You don't talk about them . . . together?"
"No. Until now, until you set this in motion, I think we both figured it was better not to put it out there, in case one or the other of us had more exclusive designs on you. Which Chris still might."
"You don't believe that. You've both always been so worried that you'd be stepping on the other's toes, but I think you've always realized that wasn't how it needed to be. As long as I felt the same." She bit her lip. "I do."
"You still haven't told me what you're wearing under this dress. Don't make me ask you again. Be detailed. Tell me what Mark was going to get to see."
"He wasn't."
"No? But you wore it for someone. Someone who wasn't me."
He'd just acknowledged that she'd picked out an outfit to deliberately torment him, but the glint in his eye helped her figure out what he was doing. Tossing her hair back, she offered him an indifferent look, difficult as that was. "String bikini panties in lavender. Pretty see-through." She moistened her lips. "I shaved, so I'm all smooth and pink. The bra matches the panties. It's transparent at the top, almost to the nipples, then satin cups for the rest. It's the push-up kind so the neckline would show off some curves."
His fingers slid higher as she spoke, making her stammer. He leaned in the doorway, pressed his lips to her throat. As he moved to her sternum, his hair brushed her chin. She tilted her head back against the headrest. "Spread your legs, Samantha Beth."
She did, and then whimpered as he explored the silky, translucent panties, finding the small blotches of dampness he was inciting. She quivered as he passed a knuckle over her clit, traced her labia, then made that circuit again, a slow massage. Bracing his elbow against the seat at her shoulder, he let his hand drop down over her breasts, fingertips teasing those curves, playing in the valley of her cleavage.
"So you would have let Mark touch you like this?"
She shook her head.
"I expect to hear words come out of your mouth when I ask you a question." His tone was silk over a blade's edge, and she shivered as his hands continued to stroke, torment.
"No. No, I wouldn't have."
"Why not?" His eyes were close enough to lock her in place.
"Because." She inhaled him through all her senses. "I don't want him."
"Good, but not good enough. That's about you. Why wouldn't you let him touch you? Did I mention the selfish-bastard part?"
He found his way beneath the panties, and one finger slid inside her, then another. "Geoff . . ." she said with a touch of scattered desperation.
"Answer me."
"Because I'm . . . yours."
"That's correct, Samantha Beth. You're mine. Ours." A tight smile touched his lips. "You're right about us worrying we'd step on each other getting to you, but I realized tonight I've always thought of you as ours. Mine and Chris's, never just mine. But no one else's."
She shook her head in emphatic agreement as his fingers did a slow thrust and retreat. "Oh . . ."