Page 58 of Midnight Secrets

She wasn’t wearing anything at all underneath.

Joe blew out a breath, hard.

She was swaying as she walked, eyes on his, smiling. She knew the effect she was having on him. Though she couldn’t see his dick, he was sure it was sending out signals.

He held his hand up. “Stop.”

She stopped, pretty feet gripping the floor. She cocked her head. “Joe?” Her voice was low and husky. She could see how worked up he was. Her stopping wasn’t in the program.

“Pull your nightgown up.” His voice was hoarse, strangled.

Her eyebrows shot up, but she obeyed, bunching that soft, creamy material in her fists and raising the hem to her shins.

Fuck. Those feet and ankles were so damn pretty. He was going to suck her toes…his cock surged, grew slick. He couldn’t afford to think of sucking her toes.

“Higher.”

Isabel studied him, trying to figure out what his deal was.

Well, tell her.

“I’m…a little worked up. As you can probably tell.” Joe manfully refrained from looking down at his lap. “So this is about the only foreplay you’re going to get. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“DIY foreplay?”

“Yep.” He was glad she seemed to have a sense of humor about this because it was actually not in the seduction playbook—to tell the lady that she wasn’t going to get any foreplay, she was going to have to do it herself. But he didn’t have a choice here. “When I get my hands on you it won’t be slow and it won’t be gentle.”

Her eyes opened wider.

“So pull that nightgown up.”

Isabel didn’t feel his urgency, otherwise she would have pulled that fucking nightgown over her head in a flash and run to the bed. But she didn’t. She was having fun. The hem of the gown inched up a little higher. Not much.

“More.” Joe was reduced to words of one syllable.

Isabel smiled. Raised the hem another inch.

“More.” Joe rubbed a hand over his chest. He was sweating slightly.

Another inch.

“More.”

Isabel swayed slightly, tilting her head, studying him. She gave that Mona Lisa smile only beautiful women manage, because she had his number. He was dead meat here, fragged, bagged and tagged. She lifted her hem higher, to the tops of her long smooth thighs.

Ah Jesus…

“What are you feeling?” He hoped against hope she felt a fraction of what he did. Like jumping out of his skin. Like being radioactive.

“Hot,” she whispered. “In every sense.”

“Show me.” Joe’s voice was urgent.

“What?”

“Show me you’re hot. Show me you’re ready. Show menow.”

Goddamn, why was he pushing this?

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