Page 70 of Fashionista's Playbook

Anticipation was a strange thing. I’d never known waiting, exposed to him in a way I’d never been, would be the biggest turn on of all.

The lace shifted, the scantest inch, and he pressed against my entrance, priming me for the length of him. I clutched the sheets and gasped as he filled me.

I couldn’t see him, couldn’t touch him, only wait impatiently until he was there, filling me, moving inside me, finding that one spot that sent me pulsating over the edge.

All my muscles pulled tight as I came. My body convulsed and I bucked back against him as the pleasure rocketed through me like a missile.

“Easy, Mariposa—or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

My only response was a moan against the covers I’d buried my face into.

Travis gripped my hips, thumbs digging into the top of my ass like it was made for him to hold. “And I’m not done yet.”

And he wasn’t. I couldn’t be sure how many times he took me over the edge. But he did, until he collapsed on top of me, shaking and mumbling in broken Spanish.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Moriah

“You’re not going home for Thanksgiving?” Travis pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe the moisture from his face.

Turns out, spending time with my new boyfriend—when we weren’t working—often meant the home gym. The results for me, though, were the ability to take the stairs without getting winded. I’d never be model thin, but I was stronger and healthier than I had been in years. And thinking about my blessings kept me from memories of home and the holidays.

I hadn’t been back since my sister married that asshole, Steven Holt.

“I have three orders I need to finish, plus some other stuff.” I kept my voice light to hide the emotion. As always, my parents were crushed when I declined their holiday invite.

Guilt churned in my gut, turning the contents sour and giving me indigestion. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was enjoying my life. Everything was perfect. Going back home—wasn’t worth it. If I sold a few more dresses, I could afford to take Mom and Dad on a vacation.

Sticking around here for the holidays was a great option. I’d get a much better view. I glanced at him now, his bronze skin shining with sweat, the myriad of tattoos across his chest dancing when he tossed the shirt and picked up his weights.

Working out with Travis was well worth the show.

Legs pumping on the stationary bike as quick as I dared, I watched as he lifted the barbell up and down. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed and twitched with effort and had moisture pooling in my mouthandother places.

Openly allowing myself to ogle Travis was quite the experience.

“Moriah, baby.” There was a loud clang as he deposited the weights on the rack.

When I peered up from his flexing chest, his eyes were tumultuous and blatant arousal flickered in their depths.

“You can’t watch me workout like that, I’m going to hurt myself.”

I slipped off the bike, quite smug that I had such an effect on him. “It’s okay, I’d kiss it better.”

He groaned. I paused beside where he sat on the bench to drop a kiss to his cheek. “You like it.”

“I do, that’s the problem.” He grabbed me by the back of the head and kissed me, hard, and with all sorts of sexy intent.

I broke away, breathless and gasping. “Yum.”

“Don’t leave just yet,” he whispered the command.

“You have a team meeting, we don’t have time to—.”

He shook his head with a mournful sigh. “You’re right. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Somewhere nice.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. “Okay, yeah. We can do that.”

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