A soft, sharp clicking sound coming down the hallway.
I stop with a carton of eggs in my hand.
Click.
Click.
Familiar.
Heels.
My head lifts.
Did Elsa put on heels?
I set the eggs down on the counter carefully and start toward the bedroom, one step, then another.
And then she appears at the opening of the hall.
Every single thought empties out of my head. Again.
Just gone.
Same as the first time I saw her in that dress, walking into the restaurant and completely destroying me.
Black.
Simple. Elegant. Deadly.
The dress skims every inch of her like it was made for her and her alone. It hugs her breasts just enough to make my mouth go dry, the neckline emphasizing the soft curves of them as they rise above the fabric
The waist nips in, then the skirt falls sleek over her hips and thighs, ending high enough that every step she takes lets me glimpse those long, perfect legs.
She’s got on sheer black pantyhose, and the flash of those garter clips in my head nearly puts me on my knees right there on the hardwood.
The heels make her legs look endless. I want to start at the bottom and run my tongue up one, down the other, back up, and right in the middle.
She did something with her hair too. Something effortless and casual enough that it falls around her shoulders in a way that looks sexier than if she’d spent three hours on it. And her makeup—
Christ.
A little smoke around her eyes. Deep red on her mouth. That same deep red that instantly makes my mind go right to filth.
I picture that deep red lining my cock so vividly it’s almost painful.
And then she takes a few more steps into the room and I catch her scent.
That sexy scent on her skin. Feminine and warm and made for dark rooms and hands and silk falling to the floor.
I am completely, utterly fucked.
She stops a few feet away and looks at me, sultry, sexy. Eyes that scream “fuck me.”
I try to say something.
Anything.
What comes out is, “Jesus Christ.”
