"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted. "I mean, I know the mechanics. I've read the books, and obviously I work here, but I've never actually—"
"I'll take care of you." His forehead rested against mine. "We'll go as slow as you need. You can stop me anytime. Just say the word."
"I don't want to stop."
"You sure?"
Was I sure? I looked at him—really looked. At the patience in his eyes, the desire he wasn't hiding, the gentleness in his touch despite the clear evidence of his arousal. This was Shep. The man who brought his son to the library every week, who'd helped me count sex toys without making me feel ashamed, who looked at me like I was worth something.
"I'm sure." The words came out steadier than I felt. "I'm just... nervous. About my body. I'm not exactly what guys expect—"
"Stop." His hands framed my face. "You're beautiful. Every inch of you. And I'm going to prove it."
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and the sensation spread through my whole body. When he pulled back, his breathing was uneven.
"Not here on the floor," he said. "You deserve better than that."
I looked around. The shop didn't exactly have romantic options. "The break room?"
"Card table's too small. The counter?"
My stomach flipped at the image. "Yes."
He stood, pulling me up with him, and I wobbled on the stupid heels. Without a word, he bent and removed them, one at a time. The gesture was oddly intimate, his hands warm on my ankles.
"Better?"
"Better."
He led me to the counter, lifted me onto it. The cool surface made me gasp through the thin fabric of the costume. Vixen, still perched at the far end, gave us a long look before jumping down and disappearing into the back room.
"Even the cat knows what's about to happen," I said, half-hysterical.
Shep laughed, stepping between my legs. "She's giving us privacy. Smart cat."
His hands settled on my thighs, warm and solid, and I shivered.
"Cold?"
"Nervous. Excited. Both."
"We're taking this slow." His hands slid higher, thumbs making small circles on my inner thighs. "I'm going to touch you, learn what you like. And you're going to tell me if something doesn't feel right, yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kissed me again, and this time I relaxed into it, letting myself feel instead of overthink. His hands moved over me—up mysides, along my ribs, cupping my breasts through the crushed velvet bodice. When his thumbs brushed over my nipples, I gasped into his mouth.
"Like that?"
"Yes."
He did it again, and pleasure shot straight between my legs. I'd touched myself before—of course I had—but this was different. This was him touching me, making me feel things I'd only read about.
"This little number you're wearing," he murmured against my neck, "has been driving me crazy all night. But I think it's time it came off."
"There's a zipper," I managed. "In the back."
He found it, drew it down. The cool air hit my skin as the fabric fell away, and then his hands were on my bare back, warm and rough.
