“I’m impressed.” I am. “You know your fabrics.”
She shrugs. She looks like she’s debating something, and then she sighs. “I own a boutique. Yes, I know that’s a personal detail, but relax. It’s the only one you’re going to get out of me all night. But that’s how I know fabric. I know clothes. Now. You had better kiss me before I slip up again and tell you my life story.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
“Yes, well, I was incredibly awkward before, bordering on painfully awkward, and I really think that I should just stop talking.”
“I don’t mind painfully awkward. And I like the sound of your voice.”
“Ummm… I’d rather you kissed me again.”
When she puts it that way, how can I say no? I’d like to do this in a gentlemanly manner, as much as I can. I’ve never done this before, and I have no idea how to start. I can’t very well offer a cup of tea, or a glass of wine, or a freaking midnight snack and offer to find common ground for a conversation, now can I? Can I?
When my goddess (okay, I’m subbing that for Jane) smiles at me, it’s the kind of smile that stops my heart in its tracks. Her eyes land on my lips and a buzzing starts in my veins. Her eyes keep going, skirting my shoulders and my chest, hovering near my waist, and still, shifting lower.
Annnnnd that’s it. I’m moving. I’m stalking over to that piano and my goddess is striding towards me. We meet like thunder and lightning getting their signals crossed and jamming up together like two bolts of lightning from two different clouds, striking each other. We crash together, my arms blanketing her shoulder and her back, tugging her in. Her hands land on my arms as well, and when her fingers slide up the fabric of my suit jacket, I promptly pull back, because there’s no way I can stand for her not to touch me. I want her hands on my skin more than I need breath in my lungs. Okay, whatever, it feels that way at the moment.
My goddess’ eyes grow huge, the pupils darkening as I unbutton my jacket and shed it. I’m slightly sweaty beneath- and for the record, I didn’t know the jacket was made from wool. I thought it was much too soft for that. The pants too. I thought wool was supposed to be heavy and itchy. What do I know? Anyway, I get the jacket off, then she’s leaning into me, her hands flying to the buttons on my shirt, helping me with those too.
“Fuck this,” she whisper-screams. She takes my shirt in both her dainty little fingers and gives a shocking, un-lady like pull that sends buttons raining down everywhere.
She doesn’t apologize, and I’m sure as shit not mad when her hands thrust under my shirt and shove it away from my shoulders. I help her, doing a little arm dance that ends up looking like a contortionist, and I think I hear something in my right shoulder pop, but I eventually shed the thing. I’m definitely clammy and I’m worried about her thinking that’s gross, but my goddess doesn’t mind a bit of sweat. She gets closer, pressing every inch of her soft curves against me, wraps her arms around my neck, and tugs my face down to hers. Her mouth crashes against mine, no teeth this time, just all blissful lips and tongue and okay, maybe a tiny bit of biting. Also, a side of fire that’s burning me up from the inside out, a touch of sparkles, and a hint of wonder dust.
I can feel my goddess’ breasts pressed into my chest, and that makes my happy stick happier than it’s ever been, and never mind a stick, it’s harder than a bloody log.
My goddess kisses me with a furious passion that I’ve yet to experience in my thirty-two years of existence. Her little whimpers and moans of pleasure send me spiraling out of control. I need to take this upstairs. Fast. If this is a one-night stand, I plan to make good use of the entire night, and I hope that involves a repeat performance.
I wrap my arms around my goddess’ tiny waist and lift her up into them. One shoe falls off her dainty little foot and she lets out a throaty giggle. She clings to me as I sweep us from the living room and ascend the slightly curled stairs to the upper floor where I have my bedroom.
I go to turn the lights on, because why the heck wouldn’t I want to have the light on, but my goddess stops me with a hot whisper to my ear and a scrape of her teeth to my earlobe. “Leave it off,” she says in the duskiest voice. “We can take the masks off then.”