Bastard raised his eyebrow for good measure too. “I was referring to your minutes comment.” Used minutes were obviously a foreign concept, whereas sexual self-help was not.
“You know, pay as you go.” Huh, just like me. “That reminds me, we gotta talk.”
“Do we now?” He let it hang, to the left, no doubt. “Getting bossy with me?”
“Someone needs to take you in hand.”
“Not gonna argue with that.”
“I’m serious.”
“I look forward to it,” he answered.
“Tomorrow?”
Sensuality deepened the pitch of his voice, “I wish it was tonight.”
“Me too.” I stopped myself from making kissy noises into the phone, just .
* * * *
Monday began with Palmer commenting, “All dressed up?”
Dressed up was an improvement on tarted up.“Headed to work.”
I was all dressed up, underneath, but no way could he have known. The last time I’d put on my seductress’s garments, he’d pulled a lumpy pillow over his face with a, “Not tonight, Shay.”
At The Tides, Temperance motioned me inside. “He’s waiting for you.” She sped me along. “Down the hall. Third door on the left.”
Before I could ask for a map, she disappeared.
Hoping I had the right hallway and the correct door, I rapped gently.
The door swung wide, framing a completely buck-fucking-naked Reardon.
’Course my pal Temp hadn’t warned me he was free-swinging, fresh from a shower. Sneaky woman.
Half his face lathered, the other half showed the largest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. My eyes darted lower, the dirty little bitches.
“Whoa! Do you always shave naked?” I shouted. My volume control had gone out the window, with his towel, apparently.
I did an about-face.
He reached around me, locking us in. “It is my house.” He spun me around. My eyes slammed shut. He laughed. “I’d give you a hug, but…”
I peeked at him through traitorous eyes to see his arms wide open, not hiding a damn thing. “Oh, you...you!” Slapping his sides, my fingers ran up to his well-defined chest.
He lowered his mouth, kissing the curve of my lips from one side to the other. When I was good and cross-eyed with lust, he chuckled and bent toward the mirror. Nude. Still.
I studied the marble underfoot instead of his marvelous glutes. “What about Temperance?”
“She knocks.”
“I knocked.”
“I know.” He winked at me through the reflection.
Bracing his thigh against the vanity, swishing the blade in the sink, he added more foam to his face from a bristled brush he swirled over a dome of shaving soap. Swirling, like his tongue on my nipples. Oh fuck.
I perused him, pretty sure my tongue lolled out. A light layer of black hair arrowed from his chest to his stomach. From the ripped muscles of his belly, the line thinned until it bloomed at his groin before the edge of the sink shielded his cock from sight. Sexy man fur! Step away from the man fur, Shay.
Returning my eyes to their sockets, I asked, “You let just anyone in here?”
He stopped mid-scrape along his jaw. “No.”
Biceps bulging, broad back and toned waist and narrow hips, Reardon tilted his neck, pulling the razor through foam. Diamonds of water dewed along the muscles fanning out from his spine, gathering in the dimples above his butt. I never wanted to be a towel so much in my life.
I made a pact with myself: if I could keep my hands above the Promised Land, I’d hug him. I folded my arms around his waist. Mmm, warmth, soft skin, hard muscle.
His head bowed, he covered my hands with his. “Missed you.”
Pressing a kiss between his shoulders I murmured, “Me too, baby.”
His body bent and moved while he plied the razor. Every so often he rose up, the base of his shaft revealed. Solid, thick, Kegel-worthy clenching material. This was a far cry from waking to a sink full of Palmer’s stubble.
Screw Playgirl PPV. I was getting paid to look at this.
Right. Paid. We needed to talk.
“I have an idea, Shay.”
Me too. Most of them began
“You know, pay as you go.” Huh, just like me. “That reminds me, we gotta talk.”
“Do we now?” He let it hang, to the left, no doubt. “Getting bossy with me?”
“Someone needs to take you in hand.”
“Not gonna argue with that.”
“I’m serious.”
“I look forward to it,” he answered.
“Tomorrow?”
Sensuality deepened the pitch of his voice, “I wish it was tonight.”
“Me too.” I stopped myself from making kissy noises into the phone, just .
* * * *
Monday began with Palmer commenting, “All dressed up?”
Dressed up was an improvement on tarted up.“Headed to work.”
I was all dressed up, underneath, but no way could he have known. The last time I’d put on my seductress’s garments, he’d pulled a lumpy pillow over his face with a, “Not tonight, Shay.”
At The Tides, Temperance motioned me inside. “He’s waiting for you.” She sped me along. “Down the hall. Third door on the left.”
Before I could ask for a map, she disappeared.
Hoping I had the right hallway and the correct door, I rapped gently.
The door swung wide, framing a completely buck-fucking-naked Reardon.
’Course my pal Temp hadn’t warned me he was free-swinging, fresh from a shower. Sneaky woman.
Half his face lathered, the other half showed the largest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. My eyes darted lower, the dirty little bitches.
“Whoa! Do you always shave naked?” I shouted. My volume control had gone out the window, with his towel, apparently.
I did an about-face.
He reached around me, locking us in. “It is my house.” He spun me around. My eyes slammed shut. He laughed. “I’d give you a hug, but…”
I peeked at him through traitorous eyes to see his arms wide open, not hiding a damn thing. “Oh, you...you!” Slapping his sides, my fingers ran up to his well-defined chest.
He lowered his mouth, kissing the curve of my lips from one side to the other. When I was good and cross-eyed with lust, he chuckled and bent toward the mirror. Nude. Still.
I studied the marble underfoot instead of his marvelous glutes. “What about Temperance?”
“She knocks.”
“I knocked.”
“I know.” He winked at me through the reflection.
Bracing his thigh against the vanity, swishing the blade in the sink, he added more foam to his face from a bristled brush he swirled over a dome of shaving soap. Swirling, like his tongue on my nipples. Oh fuck.
I perused him, pretty sure my tongue lolled out. A light layer of black hair arrowed from his chest to his stomach. From the ripped muscles of his belly, the line thinned until it bloomed at his groin before the edge of the sink shielded his cock from sight. Sexy man fur! Step away from the man fur, Shay.
Returning my eyes to their sockets, I asked, “You let just anyone in here?”
He stopped mid-scrape along his jaw. “No.”
Biceps bulging, broad back and toned waist and narrow hips, Reardon tilted his neck, pulling the razor through foam. Diamonds of water dewed along the muscles fanning out from his spine, gathering in the dimples above his butt. I never wanted to be a towel so much in my life.
I made a pact with myself: if I could keep my hands above the Promised Land, I’d hug him. I folded my arms around his waist. Mmm, warmth, soft skin, hard muscle.
His head bowed, he covered my hands with his. “Missed you.”
Pressing a kiss between his shoulders I murmured, “Me too, baby.”
His body bent and moved while he plied the razor. Every so often he rose up, the base of his shaft revealed. Solid, thick, Kegel-worthy clenching material. This was a far cry from waking to a sink full of Palmer’s stubble.
Screw Playgirl PPV. I was getting paid to look at this.
Right. Paid. We needed to talk.
“I have an idea, Shay.”
Me too. Most of them began
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