Not letting her ovation go to his head, Julian focused on making the next bit of business look sexy.
He reached for the hem of his shirt and slowly drew it upward, giving her a glimpse of his back muscles before he spun around, and taunted her with peeks at his abs.
First an inch, then two, then three, before…
He lowered it back down which had Petula pouting.
Perfect.
He ran his hand up underneath the material, flagrantly caressing his chest where she couldn’t see, while throwing his head back in mock ecstasy.
That got him a snort.
Amusement was good, too.
Not wasting any more time, Julian whipped the shirt up and over his head, twirling it on his finger and letting it go to land on the bed, right next to Petula’s hip.
She picked it up, buried her face in it, and blatantly inhaled while maintaining torrid eye contact.
Julian’s pike-like cock got even harder.
Yes. Let the fun begin.
He played with the buckle on his belt, letting his hand dip lower to caress the jeans-bulge she could clearly see at the front of his pants.
“Mmm,” she moaned appreciatively.
This was working better than he could have imagined.
Did Julian feel a little ridiculous?Yes.
Hell, he felt alotridiculous. But to make Petula forget her worries, he’d stand on his head and bray like a jackass if that’s what it took.
His buckle, once undone, hung heavily until he swept the entire length of leather clear of his belt loops, and sent it sailing toward his sneakers.
Now it was zipper time.
He began lowering it, and…
Shit.
Nooo.
Had he really worn the joke boxers his brother Vincent had given him for Christmas? Today, of all days? What had he been thinking? Julian wanted to scream. Clearly, he hadn’t been aware of exactly what he’d packed and grabbed.
Fuck.It was too late now.
Julian sighed.
If his cartoon undies made Petula laugh, he’d suck it up.
His jeans dropped, and…
A smothered giggle.
Julian narrowed his eyes at her, comically.
A chest heave.
