“Ever been to this part of Ulysses before?” she asks as I slide off my boots, glancing around. She’s cleaned up a bit since the last time I was in here. The faint scent of bleach and lemon stings my nose, and there are fewer items piled on every flat surface. I wonder if she cleaned for me, like she wanted to impress me. The thought is deeply satisfying, though I didn’t care a whit about the clutter.
“Can’t say I have,” I hedge.
As I place my bike helmet on a couch cushion and shrug off my leather jacket to drape it over the arm, I can feel her watching me. I turn and she’s not quick enough to avert her eyes, so I know she was stuck on the sight of my tattoos. “It’s a nice place,” I say with a smirk.
“Thanks.” Her smile is odd, not reaching her eyes. I wonder if she thinks it’s strange that a bloke would compliment her flat—I’m just trying to act like I haven’t been here before. “I’m going to put these in water.”
She spins and starts moving towards the kitchen, and I’m suddenly mesmerized by the hypnotic sway of her hips and swish of her skirt. Her ass jiggles more than I remember, making me wonder if she isn’t throwing some extra bounce into her step just for me. I watch until she’s out of my line of sight, then turn my attention to the cat curled up at the other end of the couch. I lean down to give him a scratch under his chin. “Hey buddy,” I greet him too softly for her to hear the familiarity in my tone over the noise of the sink.
“I thought we’d stay in tonight,” Madison says, her voice somewhat drowned out by the sound of the running water.
“Sounds good. You don’t really plan to make dinner, though, do you?” I call over my shoulder.
“Why, not a fan of dick?”
I laugh. “Not when it’s spotted.”
I give her cat another long ear scratch, and he leans in with a heavy purr. We’re both so caught up that I don’t immediately realize that the sink has been turned off. I sense Madison’s presence behind me before I hear her.
“No, spotted wasn’t the kind of dick I was hoping for tonight.”
“What a shame—”
I spin, choking on the quip as her dress slides off her shoulders and pools at her feet, revealing lingerie. The only parts of her body I can’t see are hidden behind lace and clever weaving of straps, and the effect is rather devastating to the rational part of my brain. Suddenly, all I can think of is peeling back the lace and sucking on the soft skin there, or using one of the straps around her hip as leverage to jerk her against me. Blood rushes through me, going hot then cold, and my cock stiffens with desperate interest.
The coy expression reveals her intention. Something about the light in that spot is perfect, making me wonder if she chose it intentionally. It bathes her hair and body in a golden glow, highlighting the delicate features of her face, spilling down onto the tops of her breasts that swell over the lace bra, and giving her dark hair almost a halo.
“I… what?” I hear, though I’m not aware of consciously making the sounds.
“I want to skip to dessert,” she purrs, and I think she’s repeating herself, but I don’t remember.
When it takes my brain another second to catch up, her lips twitch.
“I need…” I gulp, eyes scanning her perfect body too rapidly. I can’t find a place to settle—I want to look everywhere and see everything at once, but it’s physically impossible. “There’s… erm… there was something…”
Fuck me, she’s rendered me into a babbling moron. I palm my face and drag down. I’ll admit my plan was patchwork at best, but there were no provisions for being seduced before I could even get started.
“Fuck, Madison. You look so…good…” I groan as the word lands, falling horrifically short, and every other word I’ve ever known leaves my brain. “I swear I’m usually much more eloquent.”
“Mmm,” she hums, and it could be an agreement. She takes a small step closer to me. “Maybe you should try doing something different with your mouth. I have some ideas if you’re open to suggestions.”
The blood rushes to my cock again, swelling as excitement fills me with an antsy need to move. To grab her. To close the distance between us and take what I want. And for her part, she looks very much like she wants that, too.
Wearing a grin, I mirror her movement, taking a step of my own with a much larger stride. I think I quite like being seduced. “I do need to speak with you about something,” I say, but the conviction in my tone has evaporated, and now I sound hungry.
“A matter of life or death?” she asks, brows quirking up and sensing imminent victory.
It’s a joke, but it makes me swallow thickly. I nearly wince, and disappointment feels like a noose around my neck. I can’t let her have sex with me as Peter. When the truth comes out, she’ll never forgive me for the ruse.
But, dear God, she looks like sin.
Perhaps… just a taste…
I cross the room in three large strides before she can even react and make a move to try to meet me in the middle. As my hands fill with silky skin that gives so perfectly in my grip, rational thoughts feel too distant to be important. My muscles tense and tighten, and I curl around her, angling her head back and slanting my mouth over hers. Her taste drives me wild—the way she wriggles against my body, covered by only scraps of easily shredded lace and satin, drives me wilder.
The need to be closer feels like it’s tearing me apart, but I have to angle my head down so far that it makes my body bow around hers and gives me a crick in my neck. I don’t want an atom of space between us; I want every square inch of her perfect, soft skin pressed into mine.
“You’re so short,” I growl against her lips, making her smile and giggle against mine.
