“I look hot,” I say, causing him to throw his head back in a cackle.
“You always look hot, babe.”
I lift my eyes upward and appeasingly amend, “Hot-ter.”
“Thank you.” His hands absently smooth over the dress as he twists to consider me in the mirror, hands staying on my waist.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I watch his hands on me. God, there is something about him touching me in silk that gets me revved up. An ache pulses between my legs and my nipples pinch against the fabric of my bra as I’m suddenly desperate tofeelhis hands on me. Ijustsaid that this couldn’t happen again. I need to get a hold of myself. I need to, but all I can think about is what it would feel like if his hands were between my legs, stroking me, touching me, making me scream.
Shit. I’m practically panting at the thought. I can see my face blush in the mirror. I know Kit can tell what’s happening, but for once, he’s choosing to stay silent.
I break into my lustful thoughts and ask, “Anything else?”
His mouth perks. “Yeah, one more dress.”
He reaches to turn the light off, but before I know what I’m doing, I say, “You can keep the light on.”
I feel his surprise, but he doesn’t inquire further. “Okay.”
He turns away from the mirror still as he strips off the silk dress and does not look down at my body. He grabs a dress from the bed, pulling it over his head, then rotates back to the mirror. After the last one, I was expecting something extravagant, but this is simple. It’s a black dress with short sleeves and buttons running down the length of it, hitting me at mid-thigh.It’s shapely enough that I have a waist, but it’s not clinging to my body.
“I love it,” I say, and his grin is so wide it makes me grin as well.
“Good. I thought you would.” He tucks my hair behind one ear, hands lingering in the strands. He stares in the mirror but isn’t meeting my eye. Quietly he says, “Do you know how often I think about kissing you?”
This catches me off guard. It’s not like he’s never said anything in this vein before, but usually it’s more, I don’t know, sexual? Like the things he could do to me, how he could make me feel, but kissing is so…intimate.
I divert the comment with, “Feels a little vain when you’re in my body, doesn’t it?”
This gets a small, sad smile from him that hollows out my chest. “I suppose. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” I pick at my nail polish that is still the same amount of chipped as it has been since Kit arrived. “You can’t kiss me.”
“I know,” he says softly. “It’s a foolish thought.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. I’ve thought about it, too.”
His eyebrows perk. “You have?”
“Yeah. Of course,” I admit quickly. I try not to, but the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve wondered what his lips would feel like on mine, how they would linger on my skin. I’ve wondered if he’s gentle or aggressive, passionate or soft, selfish or giving. I swallow before asking, “If…if you could kiss me, how would you do it?”
Half his mouth quirks. “How? Oh, I have thought somuch about how I would kiss you.” He sits in front of the mirror, leaning his elbow on his leg and chin in his palm as he closes his eyes bringing us both into darkness. Better to imagine with. “I would brush your hair behind your ear first, tracing my thumb over your cheek and down your jaw, until I got to your chin. Then I would angle your lips up toward mine and lean in gently.”
I swallow. “And?”
“And I would kiss you. Slowly, at first, taking my time. Savoring. I’d kiss you deliberately as I figured out what kinds of sounds you make when you enjoy a kiss, trying my hardest to get those sounds from you over and over. But the longer your mouth was on mine, the more frantic I’d get, desperate to consume every part of you.”
I lean forward as though it will bring me closer to him. “Yeah? What else would you do?”
“I would bite your lower lip, if you like that.”
“I do.” I wet my lips. “Would your hands still be on my face?”
“One would, yeah. The other would be tracing down your body, until I was grasping at your waist. Before I moved it to your perfect ass.”
“Perfect, huh?” I glimmer beneath the compliment. “If I were wearing this dress, you could slip your hand under the skirt, so you could feel my bare skin?”
“Yeah,” he agrees readily. “Your skin would be warm to the touch and so soft. We would do more than kiss, if that wasokay.”
