Nights With Him(63)
Walking toward him.
Waving.
Smiling.
Happy.
God, he didn’t want to let her down.
He didn’t want to let her go. He was a selfish bastard for wanting to keep her even when he could never give her what she deserved.
She stopped outside the store, her hand reaching toward him, fingering a bit of fabric from his pullover shirt. “Is this what you wore today?”
He eyed her curiously. “Yeah. It’s not only what I wore, it’s also what I’m wearing.”
“It’s what I pictured you in,” she said, her lips curving up.
“You were thinking of me?” he asked, and his heart thumped harder.
“Yes,” she said, nodding to the lingerie store where they’d met up. “Now buy me some panties to replace the ones you ruined yesterday.”
Just hearing the word panties on her lips made him hard. He growled and tugged her in for a quick, searing kiss, her lips parting, her mouth opening as he made contact. He’d never tire of the way she responded to him. Then it hit him. Never. Why the hell was he thinking in absolutes?
He broke the kiss, clasped her hand, and led her into the store. Hetty’s Secret Closet was a high-end lingerie store he’d walked past yesterday. Once inside, Manhattan disappeared, and they were in a pink and white boutique surrounded by silks, satins, and chiffons, by reds, blacks and peaches, and by a lavender scent that was overwhelmingly feminine. Soft music that sounded like Sade or some other sexy songstress piped overhead, and the air-conditioning hummed low, keeping the store cool, not too chilly.
Michelle perused the racks of camisoles, casting sexy eyes at him as she held up different items. He clenched his fists so he wouldn’t pounce on her. He wanted her so much.
A saleswoman walked across the carpet, her steps so soft it was as if she was gliding. She was young, blond and pretty, and he didn’t give a shit how she looked, because his arm was around Michelle’s waist, and she was the only woman he wanted to see in a bra and panties, and out of a bra and panties.
“May I help you find something?” the saleswoman asked.
He didn’t look away from Michelle as he answered. “I want something for this stunning woman I can’t take my eyes off of,” he said, and watched as a red flush spread across Michelle’s cheeks.
“Jack,” she whispered.
“It’s true.”
“A cami? A teddy? A lingerie set?”
“The last one,” Jack said.
“Any particular color?”
He flashed back to the black pair he’d sliced off. The color truly didn’t matter. He wanted to devour her in any color. He wanted to lick her from head to toe, to eat her, to taste every inch of her, whether she wore stripes or polka dots or solids.
“Anything,” he said.
Soon, the saleswoman had selected a white demi-cup bra with matching panties, as well as one in peach, and one in dark blue.
“If you’d like to wait by the dressing rooms, we have a very comfortable chair outside them,” the saleswoman said as she guided them to the back of the store. She unlocked one of the two rooms, holding open the beige scalloped door, and hanging the items on a hook. There was a full-length mirror in a gilded frame on the wall. “I’ll check back in a few minutes and see if you need anything,” she said, and then returned to the front of the boutique.
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how it looks. Be a good boy and sit and wait,” Michelle said, gesturing to the chair before she shut the door.
“Waiting is hard,” he said in a low voice as he sank down into the soft cushiony chair.
“I bet it’s hard,” he heard her say from the dressing room, and she was so right. His dick was like steel, knocking against his fly, eager to be freed. He ached with wanting her; his mouth watered as he imagined her skimming off her jeans, tugging off her top, sliding on the lacy underthings.
He drew a deep breath, his lungs burning with desire for her.
The door creaked, and she peeked out. “Come see,” she whispered, and in an instant, he was standing, walking, stepping into the tiny dressing room with a cushioned stool in the corner. She was hidden behind the door, and when she shut it, closing them into the small space, his heart tripped over itself.
She was so fucking beautiful. Peach lace hugged her curves, the tops of those luscious breasts luring him in like beacons of desire. He wanted to look everywhere at once, to touch all of her, to slam her against the wall and take her.
To savor her.
His eyes roamed her, landing on the underwear. A small section of white peeked out on the side. She must have left on a thong as she tried on the peach panties. “I had a feeling I’d be getting wet, so I left these on,” she said, tugging at the side.