Page 131 of The Strength Of A Woman

I’ll love this woman till the day I die, which won’t happen anytime soon.

From a wall table nearby, I pick up a glass of wine and take a sip. I put it back before she walks in, wearing the piece that I love the most.

Maybe red is her color.

Or maybe the way the fabric molds to her body, highlighting her shape, her hips, her legs, is like nothing else.

I don’t know what it is about this dress, but her smile is different, the way she looks at me is different, the way her hair frames her face is different.

She’s a completely different woman, and that’s the woman that I want to walk with tomorrow night.

I want their jaws to drop.

I want them to see and understand what a treasure Leilani Gallo is.

I want her to distract them, so I can close the deal.

“Twirl for me,” I say, trying not to get hard, which never works when I’m with her.

She spins for me, displaying every bit of sartorial ingenuity put into her dress and every teasing curve of her body.

Her boobs and hips seem bigger in her dress, while her waist seems smaller. My mouth waters and my hard-on throbs as I think of ways of ravishing her.

She lifts an eyebrow at me, taunting me with a smile, and that’s as much as I can take.

“Come to me,” I say, tapping my thigh, inviting her to sit.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m damn sure. Come,” I say, unable to conceal my impatience.

She walks to me, wearing that beautiful grin.

She knows me well by now.

She knows how quickly she can stir me up, how impossible it is to stifle my need for her, and how I want to own every inch of her body and every bit of her soul.

She lowers herself on my thigh, graciously, with confidence.

That is the other thing that’s happened since she moved in with me.

She’s no longer the crazed girl she used to be.

She’s more settled. More secure.

She no longer gets spooked and rides that maddening carousel of emotions as she used to.

She drapes an arm around my neck while I run my hand up, trailing her leg.

She wears satin panties underneath, and I run my thumb along her slit, stroking her clit through the fabric.

Her eyes sparkle as I keep doing it.

Love, arousal, lust.

All three.

“Let’s do it,” I say, nudging her to rise.