“Beyond,” I whispered.
Then he kissed me, his mouth slowly slanting, teasing mine open for him. I surrendered completely in his arms, his kiss the only thing in the universe that mattered, now and forever. His lips were so soft and full, his tongue deliciously thrilling, sliding along my teeth, playing with my tongue.
His hands moved down my waist, my hips, following the lines and curves of my body. He caressed the outside of my thighs, my calves, still encased in nylon.
He blinked at me when we stopped for breath and asked, “Hey, where’s your other shoe?”
“I told you! It’s still on the dance floor! And my purse!” I cried.
“I’ll have the driver call the hall,” Dale shook his head, smiling. “They’ll keep them for us.”
“Aimee will probably hold onto them. If she’s still talking to me after this,” I added, sliding off his lap onto the seat beside him. He didn’t want to let me go too far and pulled my legs over his as I stretched out on the bench seat.
“Well, at least we gave them a good show,” Dale said, sliding his hand up to locate the garter.
“You always give them a good show,” I said proudly. Then I sat up, remembering, exclaiming, “Your dad!”
“He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Where I’m taking you tonight.” Dale smiled.
“You’re taking me somewhere?”
“Mm hm.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Somewhere special.”
“You know I have to work in the morning,” I reminded him.
“You can call in.” Dale shrugged one shoulder, still playing with the garter on my thigh.
“Josh is counting on me. We have a really big order of—”
Now his fingers were moving higher than the garter, seeking the heat between my thighs. He rubbed me gently, his smile never wavering, his eyes locked with mine.
“Well…” I swallowed and moaned softly when he rubbed me just a little bit faster. “Mmm…maybe I can go in late.”
isn’t happening. This is not happening.
I couldn’t stop shivering like I was cold, but the room was actually warm from all the body heat and the candles on the tables.
“You ready for this?”
I gasped, opening my eyes.
“Dale!”
“Got it.” He grinned, holding up the garter.
I didn’t bother asking how. Matt’s brother had obviously conceded, and the garter—along with the garter-holder’s responsibilities—now rested with Dale. He held it up, stretching it, wiggling his eyebrows and ogling as I slid the hemline of my skirt slowly upward. Everyone was watching, laughing at Dale’s antics. He pulled the garter back like a rubber band, making a show of taking aim, and let it go. It hit my chest and fell into my cleavage.
“Nice hit!” someone called out.
“Now go get it, boy!”