Page 48 of Bad Habit
“Can I move the sheet?” he asked, softly.
I nodded, suddenly less relaxed. Mac was going to see me, see me naked. Touch me naked. The dim lighting suddenly seemed like a spotlight.
He tugged on the fabric, and my hands flew up to hold it. My eyes snapped open.
“You okay?” He laid his hands over mine.
I nodded, nibbling on my lower lip, trying to understand my body’s involuntary reaction.
“No one’s ever seen me naked,” I confessed. “Except Mother, when I was a baby.” Even Mother hadn’t seen me naked since I was very small.
The naked body is sinful. Looking at your body is sinful. Touching your body even more sinful. And you should never, ever, let another person’s eyes or hands fall upon your flesh. Especially not a man’s.
“Nudity is nothing to be embarrassed about,” Mac said as if he’d read my mind. “God made our bodies, right?”
“I do realize that Mother’s lessons were… extreme. And I do want your eyes and hands on my flesh.”
A smile washed over his face. “You sure? Because we don’t have to go any further.”
“No. I want to. I’m just nervous.”
His eyes widened. “I just realized something. This isn’t fair.”
“Not fair? What do you mean?”
He cupped my cheek softly. “I was about to see you naked, and here I am wearing this robe.” His hand moved to the belt, the fabric below still stabbing out.
“Mac.” I touched the hand still caressing my face. “I’m not sure. I…”
“I’ve got an idea.” He backed away from the table, grabbed the robe I’d worn after my bath, and tossed it toward me. It landed across my body.
“Put that on,” he said. “Then come out when you’re ready.”
He strode to the bedroom door and opened it. Light from the dining room grazed his face and the skin at the top of his chest as he turned back toward me and smiled, appearing even more beautiful than those museum sculptures.
“No rush,” he said. “Come on out when you’re ready.”
My breaths came more quickly, my heart beating wildly considering I was still lying down. I squeezed my hands into tight fists, angry with myself for chickening out when he’d started to pull down my sheet, for ruining what had been about to happen.
Where was my courage?Perhaps I should have another glass of wine. Mac had only been doing what I wanted, and my fearful reaction had ruined it all.
Holding the sheet close against my body, I sat and swung my legs over the side of the table, then slipped the robe on, tightening it after my soles dropped to the plush carpet. I let the sheet slide out from under the robe to pool around my feet.
Kicking free of the fabric, I wiggled my toes in the lush pile. The carpet was soft, like that velvet dress I’d worn on our date, or at least that’s how it felt. Every part of me seemed ultra sensitive, hyperaware of every fiber as it stroked the soles of my feet and tickled my toes.
The robe reached around my body almost twice, and I double-checked the belt, tying it an extra time to make sure it didn’t accidentally fall open. The fabric grazed low on my shins and calves as I padded toward the door.
Gathering my courage, I ignored the voice inside me that told me to get dressed, at least put on my underwear before exiting the bedroom.Shut up, little voice. What do you know?
Holding the doorknob, I drew a long breath. I would not let this setback ruin my evening or my sin explorations. I was disappointed that I was still a virgin, but we could try again tomorrow.
Rubbing my legs together, I felt the dampness between them grow. I squeezed my thighs together tightly, shifting my hips, marveling at the arousing sensations from that simple, seemingly innocent motion.
Why had I suppressed these feelings for so long?
And… after this adventure in sin, would I be able to—or even want to—suppress them again?
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