Page 124 of Bottles & Blades

“Go on and get changed, baby,” I tell her. “I’ll lock up and join you.”

Her eyes are half-mast, but she nods, presses her lips to my jaw. “Thank you for today, Jean-Mi. It’s been magical.”

“Anything. Anytime.”

She smiles then turns and shuffles down the hall.

I do a walkthrough, making sure all of the windows are closed, snagging a bottle of water for her from the fridge, in case she gets thirsty in the night, double-checking that the front door is locked.

The light is on in the bathroom, a sliver of glow showing beneath the gap in the door.

I set her water on the nightstand, move to my suitcase to grab out a pair of sweats.

The bathroom door opens with a creak,and I turn, unable to keep my gaze from going to Tiff.

Then freeze as I try to process what I’m seeing.

Freeze as every bit of blood that’s in my body arrows straight for my cock.

She’s wearing…well, she’s not wearing very much at all.

It’s red and lacy and clingy andsheer.

Fucking hell, it’ssheer.

And clinging to her curves. Curves I’ve gotten to know. Curves I’ve worshipped. Curves I’ve never seen wrapped in sexy as hell lingerie.

Until tonight.

“Buttercup,” I rasp as she rubs her fingertips together, worry creeping into her face. “You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks go pink.

Teeth press into her bottom lip.

“I know you’ve probably seen sexier?—”

I don’t let her finish that statement. I close the distance between us.

Her gasp is quiet.

“You. Are. Beautiful,” I say again.

“I feel ridiculous,” she admits. “I’ve never worn this. I bought it on a whim and…” She shrugs. “I never had a reasontowear it.”

I touch the thin straps that flow over her shoulders, that trail down her chest, crisscrossing over her breasts. Her lips part, back arching, instinctively seeking out more of my touch. “This isn’t why I brought you here.” I slide my fingers lower, tracing over the scalloped edges of lace that form a V that dips low on her belly.

She shivers. “I know.” Her hand covers mine, lifting it from her belly, drawing it higher. “But I want you to take me anyway.”

When she settles it on her breast, we both exhale.

Her nipple is a hard bud pressing into my palm, and I lightly drag my hand back and forth. “I should say no.”

I know I should—it’s late, she’s tired, the trip isn’t about this.

She moans softly, head falling back. “Please.”

“But I’m not good enough of a man to resist you.”

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