“Maybe” was all she allowed, clearing her throat because she was almost certain she felt anotheridiotic giggle threatening, and she refused to give in to it.
“I think this agreement of ours might work out perfectly.” He untied the other side of the curtains and stuffed that length of rope in his back pocket as well. His accent made the wordperfectlysound more likepuhfectly.
“Now.” He looked her up and down, fingering the hem of her sweatshirt. “Let’s be rid of this, shall we?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “But…uh…what about those?” She motioned to the lengths of chenille in his pockets.
“I’ve found it’s easier to undress womenbeforetying them up.”
“Would you please stop talking about other women?” She scowled at him.
First it wassome womendon’t like feeling that vulnerable. Then it wassome womendon’t like giving up control. Now it was easier to undresswomenbefore tying them up. If he used the term one more time, she might be tempted to take those ropes and hog-tiehim. But not to do dirty things to him. Rather, to smack him around until he promised to forget every single woman who’d come before her.
Uh-oh. Oh no. That’s dangerous thinking.
“Jealous, darling?” That infuriating self-satisfied smile was back in place.
“Oh, shut up.”She whipped her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.
Huzzah!She pumped an imaginary fist when, instead of saying something arrogant or smug, he made a breathless noise—it sounded sort of likeunhhh. Then he swallowed so hard his Adam’s appleclickedin his throat.
His eyes landed on her pale-pink bra, traveled slowly over the lace of the cups, and settled on the littlered rose sewn between them. His eyes settled on therose. Not her boobs. Therose.Damn.
Suddenly, whipping off her sweatshirt didn’t seem like such a good idea. Even though the weak afternoon sun was beginning to sink toward the west, there was still enough light to show him that, true to her word, she didn’t have much in the way of boobs. On her good days, the most she could hope to fillwas a B cup.
Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Don’t.” His voice was like gravel crunching under tank tracks. Pulling her arms away, he fingered the little red rose like he couldn’t help himself. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Psshh,” she scoffed, but then immediately sobered because the look in his eyes said he was telling the truth.
“May I?” He trailed his fingers over the gentle slope of her breast before slipping them beneath one thin, silk strap.
A nod was the only answer she was capable of giving him. Her voice had ceased working the instant the tips of his fingers grazed her skin.
Slowly, like he was unwrapping a delicate gift, he pulled the strap off her shoulder. The second strap soon followed. When he reachedbehind her for her bra’s clasp, she ducked her chin, not wanting to see his face when he realized how little she had to offer. Her bra was one of those push-up things. It lifted and plumped and gave the illusion of a fullness she didn’t truly possess.
A finger slipped beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his heated gaze. “Stop trying to hide from me, Emily. Never hide from me.”
Her nostrilsflared when, with a snap of his fingers, her bra was undone. Oh, for heaven’s sake, he was good at that.The scoundrel!
Then all thought leaked out of her ears because he was kissing her. Like kissing the holyhellout of her! In fact, his kiss was so deep, so thorough, so completely panty-slicking that she didn’t notice he’d pulled off her bra until he broke the suction of their mouths andtook a step back.
Her first instinct was to cover her breasts. But instead she gritted her teeth, thrust up her chin, and watched his eyes drift over her. His study was so intense it almost felt like a physical touch. And when his gaze fell on her nipples, she sucked in a breath, shocked to feel her areolas tighten, squeezing the centers into tight, painful buds.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.“So soft and round and topped by the sweetest pink nipples I’ve ever seen.”
Okay, so if there was one nice thing she could say about her boobs, it was that her small areolas, which were barely bigger than her nipples, gave her girls the appearance of heft. And looking at him looking at her with so much hunger, with so muchwonderment, she began to feel a confidence she’d never had before.
Christian didn’t look at her and see small tits. He looked at her and saw tits. He was such aguy. And she couldn’t be happier for it.
Not asking permission this time, he cupped her left breast. His palm felt hot and rough when he plumped her high. The pad of his thumb was deliciously abrasive when it feathered over her distended nipple.
Oh, for the love of Robin Ventura.There wenther knees again.
She reached for the windowsill to steady herself. But her hand slipped off the edge, causing her to stumble and glance over her shoulder to locate the recalcitrant sucker. No sooner had she steadied herself—not only thanks to the windowsill but to Christian’s warm hand curling around her hip—then movement outside snagged her attention.
“Eep!” she squeaked and grabbed thecurtains to cover her breasts.
