I Still Do by Christie Ridgway

may call me Princess Emily.”
    Betsy grinned. “Well, Princess Emily, by your leave, I’m going to have to boogie out of here.” She tapped her forefinger against the face of her watch. “I’m late already.”
    â€œOkay.” Emily returned to admiring her reflection. “I’m just going to pretend for another thirty seconds or so.”
    Thirty seconds turned into three, four, five minutes. Long enough for Betsy to exit the house and then for Emily to realize she couldn’t get the borrowed dress unzipped by herself—meaning that Will might walk in on her any minute wearing something frothy and silly and much too romantic.
    It was enough to make her palms sweat as she tried manipulating the recalcitrant zipper again. “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered. Desperate now, she sucked in everything that could be sucked in and managed to spin the dress around on her body so that front was at the back and vice versa.
    Of course, that meant her breasts were bared by the low-cut back, but at least she had a shot at getting the zipper to cooperate. With a few swear words spoken as a magic spell, the thing finally released and she drew it down, her air easing out with it. The tulle skirt puddled on the floor at her feet and she was just stepping over the fluffy layers when the closet door swung open.
    Her gaze took in Will. Surprise written all over his face, he was staring at her. At her, half-naked.
    In his room.
    Near his bed.
    With the near-audible sound of a match strike, that ever-present spark between them caught, flared to life. Emily’s skin flushed and her nipples tightened.
    Had she mentioned half-naked? Surely Will hadn’t missed it, because his gaze dropped to the tingling evidence of her immediate sexual interest. She threw up an arm to cover her chest.
    Another country song was blaring, something about a redneck woman, and it wasn’t a seductive musical number either. But it didn’t seem to matter, because she’d been seduced already she realized…by the scent of Will in his bedroom, by her photo on Will’s dresser, by the serious expression in his eyes as one hand rose and touched the arm that was only doing a so-so job of hiding her breasts.

Chapter Seven
    A s he half-heard Emily stutter out some explanation about why she was in his closet, Will pulled Emily’s forearm away from her body, revealing her creamy breasts and the tight nipples topping them. With his free hand, he reached out to touch one berry-pink point, and he saw it draw to an even smaller bud. Her breath caught, but he didn’t look at her face, fascinated as he was by the sight of his big tanned hand close to the delicate colors of her uncovered body.
    â€œA boy’s dream,” he heard himself say again, as he traced her areola with his forefinger. A blush moved across her chest. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”
    â€œWill…”
    He rubbed his thumb over the other peak, and he saw her stomach muscles clench above the elastic band of her pink satiny panties. “I want you, Emily.”
    He’d been hard for her the first time he’d taken her hand when he was a teenager. At the moment, it felt as if he’d always been hard for her. His gaze flicked up to her face to note her dilated pupils, her parted lips, the expression of uncertainty clearly written there.
    â€œI’m not…I’m not one who is, um, generally swept away.”
    He smiled a little. Practical Em. Research librarian. It figured she’d want to think everything through. But hadn’t they been coming to this since they’d ran into each other in Vegas? He’d thought about it plenty of times since then.
    â€œI’m not trying to turn off your brain, Emily. The opposite in fact.” He brushed his thumb over her nipple again and watched the flush rise up her neck to her cheeks. “I don’t want to sweep you