CHAPTER 6
Valerie
“Valerie—” Chris called after me, but I didn’t stop.
I grabbed a towel from the bar and wrapped it around myself, barely aware of what I was doing. I concentrated on tucking the corner of the towel securely, so it wouldn’t fall down, until my heart rate had slowed a little. Then, trying to make my breathing even and to curve my mouth into a sweet smile, I turned back to Chris, who stood looking at me with a slightly frustrated, but mostly bewildered expression on his face.
“It’s late,” I said, doing my best to sound like a bride who had her wedding night completely under control. “Can we go to bed? You haven’t seen my nightgown! I think you’ll like it.”
I could see Chris trying to figure out what to do. His jaw worked, and his eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my stomach flutter. For a long moment I thought he might refuse—might insist on continuing what we’d started in the bath, on pushing me further tonight.
But finally he sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Go get your nightgown on.”
Relief flooded through me so powerfully my knees nearly buckled. “Why don’t you go drink your whisky?” I suggested, trying to keep my voice light and normal. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He looked at me for another long moment, then nodded and walked past me into the main room. I watched him go, unable to tear my eyes away from his naked body—the broad shoulders, the muscular back, the firm curves of his backside. And lower, between his legs, his cock still jutting out partially hard from his body.
I forced myself to look away, my face burning. Such naughty thoughts. I shouldn’t be staring at my husband’s… hiscocklike that. Shouldn’t be feeling that terrible warmth building between my legs again just from looking at it.
I hurried to where my suitcase sat on the luggage rack and unzipped it with shaking hands. The peach baby doll nightgown lay folded on top, tissue paper crinkling as I lifted it out. Beneath it, wrapped in more tissue, were the matching panties—sheer lace that would hide absolutely nothing.
I stared at them for a moment, then shook my head firmly. No. The nightgown itself was already so revealing, so terribly naughty with its sheer fabric and plunging neckline. I couldn’t bear to wear those panties too.
Instead, I dug deeper into my suitcase until I found a pair of my regular cotton panties—white, modest, the kind I’d worn since I was a girl. They would provide at least some coverage, some small protection from Chris’s eyes.
I dropped the towel and quickly pulled on the cotton panties, then slipped the baby doll nightgown over my head. The fabric whispered against my skin, so light and delicate it barely felt like I was wearing anything at all. When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I gasped.
The peach color made my skin glow. The sheer fabric revealed the curves of my breasts, my nipples clearly visible through the delicate material. The hem barely reached the tops of my thighs. I looked… I looked like the kind of girl my mother had warned me I would turn into if I didn’t fight against my ‘waywardness.’
But at least the white cotton panties provided some modesty. They looked a bit silly under the fancy nightgown, I supposed, but they made me feel slightly less exposed.
Taking a deep breath, I walked out into the main room.
Chris stood by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, looking out at the city lights below. He’d put on a pair of black boxer briefs, but nothing else. The lamplight caught the planes and valleys of his muscular back, the strong lines of his arms and shoulders. My breath caught in my throat.
He was so beautiful. So perfectly, overwhelmingly masculine. The sight of him made something ache deep in my chest—something that wasn’t just fear or shame, but a longing so intense it nearly brought tears to my eyes.
And then my gaze drifted lower, to where the fabric of his boxers stretched across his butt cheeks. My eyes went to his reflection in the window. I tried to look somewhere, anywhere else, but I had caught a glimpse the outline of his cock through the thin material. Still semi-hard. Still thick and intimidating even in its partially softened state.
I felt my fascination with that part of his body growing, felt my eyes drawn to it against my will. How could I be so curious about something that terrified me? How could I want to look at it, to understand it, when the thought of what he wanted to do to me with it tomorrow night made me want to cry?
Such terribly naughty thoughts. I was being so naughty, so wayward, staring at my husband’s cock like this. Good girls didn’t think about such things. Good wives didn’t?—
“Chris?” I called out softly, interrupting my own spiraling thoughts.
He turned, and when his eyes found me, his entire expression softened. A smile spread across his face—that gentle, loving smile that had made me fall for him in the first place.
“Sweetheart,” he breathed. “You look beautiful.”
I walked toward him on trembling legs, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. When I reached him, his arms came around me, pulling me against his chest. I melted into his embrace, feeling safe for the first time since we’d come upstairs.
“I love the nightgown,” he murmured into my hair. Then his hands slid down to my hips, and I felt him pause. “But we’re going to need to talk about your underwear choice.”
My heart jumped into my throat. Oh, God. He’d noticed the cotton panties. He was going to make me take them off, going to make me put on the sheer lace ones instead, or maybe wear nothing at all?—
But instead of saying anything more, Chris just took my hand and led me toward the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
I followed him in a daze of relief and confusion. He pulled back the covers and climbed into the massive bed, then held out his hand to me. I took it and let him draw me down beside him.
