The Ground Rules Part 23

"I still have your panties in my pocket."

His words arouse me. "Have you had your nose buried in them?" I tease, realizing I've been defeated.

"Here and there," he says with a wicked grin.

"Such a dirty boy," I say, a smile on my face. I don't care if it makes me feel like a wh.o.r.e again...I still want him. As much as I wanted to end this, I'm still willing to put everything on the line-my sanity, my marriage, my heart.

I lean in close, my hand buried in my loose curls. "Take me to your room."

He swallows and puts his drink down. "You're not hungry?"

I brush my finger along my neck, feeling suddenly hot. "No." I am so turned on-I'm just about to short-circuit.

"Neither am I," he confesses, his words soft.

He gets the server's attention, tells her an emergency has called us away, and leaves a hundred dollar bill on the table.

He holds my hand as we walk to the elevators. Two older couples are standing, waiting. They seem to be friends, chatting about a local restaurant. They smile at us sweetly.

The elevator chimes, and we follow the couples in.

"Which floor?" one of the ladies asks.

"Forty-two," Weston tells her. His hand rests on my waist. This slight touch lights me up, and I close my eyes imagining what is to come.

My hand is in his as he leads me to his suite. I realize that despite how he might make me feel, or whatever happens, I can't free myself from him. I've had a taste, and now I can't do without.

As soon as we walk into his suite and the door closes, his lips are on mine. I promised myself I wouldn't let this happen again. But the sensation of him against me is so wonderful. He pulls my jacket off, trailing kisses down my neck. I pull his satchel over his head and bury my hands in that beautiful hair of his-it's so soft against my fingers.

I'm just about ready to devour him-just like those calorie-filled red velvet cupcakes they sell at my favorite bakery-the ones that go straight to my hips.

He pulls his lips away from mine and rests his head against my forehead. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Remember," he whispers, "when I told you I wanted to see you?"

I smile at him, a little nervous.

What does he have in mind?

"All of you," he adds, his eyes dark.

"Yes," I whisper, my voice small. "I remember."

He pulls away and walks slowly toward the bedroom. He looks back and shoots me a soft smile, urging me to follow him. I trail behind him eagerly, taking in the s.p.a.ce. When we reach his bedroom, he heads to one of the arm chairs sitting not far from the bed. I catch a glimpse of his shoulders in his fitted s.h.i.+rt. I don't want to be naked for him-I want him to be naked for me. He takes a seat, his movements slow and deliberate.

I stand there, taking in the room-the contemporary lines, soft lighting, crisp white linens, upholstered velvety headboard, soothing caramels, and breezy blues. The decor is soothing, but I am anything but relaxed. He stares at me without a word. He's making me anxious again.

His gaze sweeps over my body and rests at my stiletto-clad feet. "I'd like you to undress for me."

I stand still, speechless, but he offers no other direction.

"Uh," I say, caught off guard. "Where? Here?"

He scratches the edge of his jaw, still not quite making eye contact with me. "Come over and sit on the bed."

I can't do this-not when he's not even looking me in the eye.

I don't want to do this.

I want him to undress me. I'm a very private person-almost no one has seen my body in its entirety. I've had two children. I'm thirty-five years old and far from perfect.

I can't do this.

I walk slowly to the bed, and I hesitate a little before sitting. I'm petrified. I realize I probably look like a deer in headlights. We've discussed boundaries and limitations, and he's mentioned that I shouldn't do anything I don't want to do.

I smile as his eyes finally meet mine. "Why don't you undress for me instead?" I tease.

He smirks. "Next time, perhaps."

My gaze falls to the floor as I trace my finger along the scoop neckline of my dress.

"Please don't do this if you don't want to," he says softly. "I won't be upset."

I look up at him, still not sure.

"It's...something I've fantasized about," he confesses, "since the first night I met you."

"Really?"

"That pretty little pink dress you had on? I wanted it to disappear."

I can't deny him this one small fantasy...maybe he'll make mine a reality too.

I tilt my head ever so slightly.

I have no idea where to start.

I stand, trail my finger down to my leg, and slowly hike the hem of my dress, giving him a peep of my thigh-high stocking and garter. Part of me knew this was going to happen. Why else would I have dressed like this? Who was I kidding?

He leans forward on his forearms, a smile on his face-he seems to like what he sees.

This might not be so bad.

I throw my head back, trail my hand to the back of my neck and reach for the zipper of my dress.

But I can't quite undo this dress by myself. For some reason, I can manage to zip it up, but not down. I hadn't expected an impromptu striptease. If I had, I would have worn something more strip-friendly-like a wrap dress or a s.h.i.+rt dress.

Something I could undo easily and seductively.

This isn't s.e.xy at all.

Weston seems amused by my struggle. A big grin stretches across his face as he watches me.

Yes, I knew this might be embarra.s.sing-but so early on? I've barely gotten started.

He wears a devilish smile as he walks toward me. "Need a little a.s.sistance?" he asks as he grabs a hold of my waist.

"Yes."

He pulls me to him and turns me on my feet. His hand brushes my skin as he sweeps my hair over one shoulder, sending s.h.i.+vers through me. I close my eyes and wonder why his touch is so electric-it lights me up every time. He kisses the back of my neck as he slowly pulls down my zipper. He's taken over, and I'm officially in seventh heaven. "I've done my part," he whispers. "The rest is up to you."

d.a.m.n...I'm not off the hook.

I turn back to see him sitting comfortably in the chair again. He leans in, his forearms on his knees, his s.h.i.+rt pulling against his shoulders. G.o.d...he's gorgeous. The faster I get this done, the sooner I get him all over me.

I pull a strap slowly over my shoulder, and slowly pull the dress down to my waist, exposing my black silk bra.

He swallows hard and nods in approval, leaning back in his chair. His smile has faded-his face is serious and intense.

I'm turning him on.

And I love the idea of turning him on.

I s.h.i.+mmy my hips a little, pull the dress over them, and let it fall to the floor, revealing the matching silk panties, garter, and stockings.

He undoes the top b.u.t.ton of his s.h.i.+rt. "I...love...it."

Yes, I almost scream...he's getting undressed. This is going exactly where I want this to go. "Do you approve?" I ask, my words silky.

His slow smile says it all. "Yes...definitely."

I sit on the bed and kick off my stilettos, throwing my head back. I trail my finger down my hips and slowly unhook the clips on my garter. He watches my every move, his eyes not leaving my body even for a second.

I start to lose my inhibitions, desperately wanting him to want me. I slide my stocking slowly down my leg. My eyes don't leave his-I want to see him react. His lids are heavy, and there's a hint of a smile on his face-barely discernable. His fingers trail down his s.h.i.+rt-he's down to the middle b.u.t.ton, a white unders.h.i.+rt peeking through.

I can't wait for him to get that s.h.i.+rt off.

By the time I've removed both stockings, his s.h.i.+rt his off, and he's devastatingly beautiful in a tight unders.h.i.+rt, desire still in his eyes.

I bring my hand to my neck, knowing I need to kick it up a notch, but I'm so scared. I feel so vulnerable under his stare. I'm not sure if I'm ready to show myself completely to him.

I trail my hand to my breast and slide it under the silk of my bra. My skin is hot and my nipples are hard. I let my breast fall out over the underwire.

He closes his eyes for a second.

I'm arousing him.

I'm arousing myself.

"I want to touch you," he says, his words soft. "I want to taste you."

He has no idea how much I want that. "Come and touch me."

He studies me for a beat, and he smiles. "Settle down...little b.u.t.terfly," he whispers, the words flowing off his tongue deliciously.

I laugh a little. "What?"

He leans back in his chair. "You're beautiful and colorful, and you do get quite eager and fluttery when you're aching to get off."

I bite my lip, suddenly a bit self-conscious. "Oh...do I?"

"You do. It's rather adorable, actually."

I laugh again but don't say a word, aching for him to come to me.

"I'll come to you soon enough, but I want to see you completely naked first. And feel free to speed things up," he quickly adds, his smile playful.

My inhibitions are completely gone. I want to be naked for him. I want him to touch me. I arch my back and reach for the clasp of my bra. It falls to the bed, as I reveal myself to him.

He bites his bottom lip, his gazed fixed on my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I think he likes what he sees.

He peels off his unders.h.i.+rt, revealing a set of gorgeous shoulders. The sleek lines of his body under his fitted s.h.i.+rts gave me an idea, but I had no clue he was so ripped. He leans back in his chair with a sly smile, showing off his toned abs-he knows exactly what he's doing to me.

I quickly slide my hand down my belly and toy with the lace trim of my panties.

I can tease too.

He watches me intently, tapping his foot. I linger, tracing my finger back and forth along the waistband.

He sucks in a long breath. "Take them off."

I hesitate a little.

I'm not sure he's going to like what he sees. I've cleaned up for him, but I'm a natural woman. And he strikes me as the type who appreciates a nice Brazilian. But...he's touched me there before-he knows what to expect.

I peel off my panties, slide them slowly over my knees, and let them fall to the floor. I'm motionless in my birthday suit. I've never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. He stares at me for the longest time without a word. My heart hammers in my chest, and I wish I could dissolve into thin air.

"You're perfect," he finally says.

And I smile at him, relieved he likes me the way I am. And also very relieved my little show is officially over.

Except...it isn't quite over.

Not as far as Weston is concerned.

He bites his lip, a hint of a smile on his face. "Sit back on the bed."

I sit on the edge, waiting for him to come to me, the crisp white bed cover cool on my rear.

But he doesn't.