“It does?” I wondered if he’d gotten too much sun while driving.
“Yes. To your...” He waved a hand toward my chest and opened his eyes. “Did you want something in particular, or did you just drop by to flaunt your breasts at me?”
I looked down. I’d forgotten what the corset did to them, presenting them front and center. “No, actually. I was hoping you were Melody so I could get help taking off the corset.”
His eyes seemed to glaze over for a few seconds. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, gave a little cough, then said, “Can I be of assistance?”
I was in his room before my brain could even alert my mouth that there were words coming. “Sure! That would be awesome. I’d appreciate it a lot. You have no idea how rib-crushing these things are.”
His eyebrows rose a little, but after hesitating a second he closed the door and followed me into the room. “Not that I’m not happy to help you, but aren’t there hooks onthe front you can undo? My sister used to be part of a reenactors group, and her corset had hooks she used to get in and out of it.”
“This isn’t one of those kinds of corsets, unfortunately.” I spun around so that he could have access to my back. “The laces seem to be knotted. I can’t get them undone. If you can take care of the knot, I can probably do the rest.”
“No need,” he said in a rather breathless voice as he started to work on the knot. “I’m happy to help.”
All sorts of smutty thoughts passed through my head while he tugged on the laces, everything from licking that wonderful chest to flinging him onto the bed and rubbing myself all over him. I was a little shocked at such thoughts, because I hadn’t at all intended on pursuing a romance with anyone, let alone the men in the race, but there was something about Dixon that caused my brain to override my common sense.
“I think—yes, I think this will do it.”
“Ahhh,” I said, sighing in relief as he got the laces undone and pulled the corset open wide. It sagged down in the front, revealing the skimpy fine-lawn camisole I wore underneath it. I scratched at my front beneath my boobs and took a couple of experimental deep breaths. “You have no idea how good this feels.”
“You have... erm... some red marks on your back.”
“Red marks?” I tried to see over my shoulder. “What sort of red marks? Oh god, they aren’t pimples, are they?”
“No, marks made by the corset, I believe. They’re above the line of your vest.”
“My vest... oh, undershirt. It’s a camisole, actually. Where are the marks? I can’t see them. Can you put a finger next to them so I can tell Roger where the corset is rubbing?”
“Just here.” His fingers swept along a spot on my left shoulder blade. I shivered. “And here.”
It was as if his fingers were made of molten gold, making my skin tingle where he touched.
“And... here.” His hand brushed a line down my spine, inside the camisole. I shivered again.
“Really? My whole back?” My breath seemed to be somewhat sparse, not enough of it filling my lungs.
“No. I just wanted to touch you.”
I turned around at that, pulling the loosened corset off over my head. We stared at each other for the count of seven, he with his bare chest and I almost bare with what was tantamount to a see-through camisole.
His eyes dilated. My breath caught even more, and suddenly I reached out with both hands and slid them up his chest to his shoulders.
He made an inarticulate noise, and that’s all it took. I knew I shouldn’t give in to the sudden rush of desire that seemed to grip me with burning fingers, but sanity—or even forethought—didn’t matter at that moment. Whatdidmatter was Dixon, specifically the ways and means his body was applied to mine. Without warning, I was against him, the camisole doing nothing to keep the heat of his chest from soaking into my breasts. His hands slid underneath my camisole to stroke my back while his mouth—oh lordy, his mouth! He tasted hot and spicy and slightly sweet, and did I mention hot? Hoo! We’re talking steaming-the-drapes sort of hot, and when his tongue got into the action, it went from steam to an inferno in a flash.
I pushed off his shirt, trying to touch all of him that I could reach, even while he kissed the very thoughts out of my head.
A noise in the hallway had us parting, but thankfully only briefly. I stared at him, one hand on my lips. “Wow,” I finally managed to say. My brain was too befuddled to come up with any other words.
“Indeed,” he said, and then we were smooshed togetheragain and he was kissing me the way I’d secretly been wanting to be kissed ever since I’d set eyes on him.
“This is wrong,” he murmured at one point. I had paused stroking his chest and arms long enough for him to pull my camisole off, his hands instantly taking possession of my breasts.
“On the contrary,” I said with a little moan of happiness when his head dipped down so he could swirl his tongue over nipples that suddenly demanded that very act. “It’s so, so right. And left. Do the left.”
He did the left nipple, warm waves of pleasure rippling out from my breasts to pool deep in my stomach. My girl parts were tingling for all they were worth, demanding equal time with Dixon’s mouth and complaining that the breasts got all the fun.
“You’re right. I’m wrong. This is good. Very good,” he said, his breath hot when he kissed a path back up to my neck. He hit the spot behind my ear and I swear my legs turned to pudding. His hands left my breasts and went around to the back of me, fumbling with the skirt hooks.
