I pushed her shirt from her shoulders. She let it fall to the kitchen floor, revealing a black bra and skin still lightly marked by the day’s sun.
I stared.
Ellie glanced down at herself.
“Everything still there?”
“Yes.”
“Your face became very focused.”
“I’m appreciating the equipment.”
“That is a terrible scuba joke.”
“I panicked.”
She laughed and reached for the tie at my waist.
“This dress caused problems yesterday.”
“I heard.”
“I think it requires further investigation.”
“That sounds official.”
“I have a clipboard.”
“Not here, you don’t.”
“Then we’ll have to improvise.”
Her fingers loosened the tie.
The dress slipped slightly, the neckline lowering.
Ellie’s gaze followed it.
She watched my face as her fingertips traced the edge of the fabric.
I touched her cheek.
“Bedroom?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
I took her hand.
We reached the bedroom with no further negotiations.
The room was dim, lit by the lamp beside the bed and the last blue light from the windows. The decorative seashell bowlremained on the dresser, but I decided we were both mature enough to ignore it.
Ellie stood beside the bed in her bra and shorts, smiling at me with equal parts amusement and want.
Something in my chest tightened.
