I effortlessly catch it.
My gaze drops to it. It’s delicate. The band is dotted with diamonds. I rest it next to my cufflinks before I place my watch beside it.
“Your turn,” I point out noting that the only other jewelry she’s wearing is a pair of small silver hoop earrings.
My patience should be wearing thin, but I have all night. Even though I’m aroused, this exchange is unexpected and as fascinating as the woman I’m staring at.
“No.” She takes two steps closer to me. “I want you to take off your shirt.”
I’d debate the point and likely win, but the white button-down shirt will be on my bedroom floor within the next thirty minutes, so I comply.
I watch her eyes as I loosen my navy blue tie before tossing it on the back of the sofa. Her gaze is riveted to my fingers. Each button that is undone reveals more of the smooth skin of my chest and my abs.
“Do you have any tattoos?” she asks, stepping closer.
The query perks my brows and my curiosity. “Is that a requirement?”
“It’s a question.”
I’ve never considered inking my skin, but that’s not because I don’t see the beauty of the art or believe in the meaning behind it.
The person I hate most in the world is covered with tattoos. His chest, back, and arms bore colorful ink the last time I saw him.
A tattoo on my skin would inevitably remind me of him.
I don’t need or want that.
I answer the question with a push of the shirt from my shoulders.
Her eyes rake my bare torso and arms. “Turn around.”
If she’s this demanding in bed, a second or even third round is a given. I can’t remember the last time I wanted a woman this much.
That’s a lie. I can remember even though I’ve tried in vain to forget.
I don’t move. “I’ll show you my back once you show me you.”
Her eyes drop to the front of her dress. It’s modest, but low cut enough to reveal the promise of a pair of round tits.
She’s tiny but curvy. She’s exactly what I want and need tonight.
Her hands fall to the thin leather belt that is cinched around her waist. She unbuckles it before she slides it off and drops it at her feet.
My
hand moves to the front of my pants. I squeeze my hardened cock through the fabric as she glides one shoulder of the dress down revealing the thin strap of a black bra.
Chapter 3
Dylan
I’m on her when the dress hits the floor.
My cock is throbbing inside the constraint of my pants. My heart is hammering so hard that I expect my chest to split open down the middle.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I tug her against me, wrapping my arms around her.