“Tonight?” she asks. It’s her one word. It’s a loaded fucking question. One I don’t know how to answer, because I’m not sure I can delay fucking her for much longer. If I get her in my house, naked on my own bed, the sight alone will make me spill it before I get within ten feet of her. I ask the question before I lose my nerve.
“Will you come to my house tonight?” She leans back into her chair and looks me squarely in the eyes. She looks confused, like maybe she didn’t understand what I said.
“I want you to come over,” I say again. Windsor bites her lip. The hesitation makes my pulse skitter all over the place. She usually doesn’t pause to consider anything when it comes to me.
“Depends. Why are you asking?” She looks away. “Is it because you think it’s something I want? Or do you really want me to come over? I know that’s not your standard protocol.” Skittering heart now turns to pounding heart.
“I want you to come over. I want you in my space. In my house. In my world, Windsor. There is no standard protocol when it comes to you. I’m just going with what feels right,” I reply, making Stone’s words from earlier my own. She studies me, eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to psychoanalyze me. I’ve been analyzed plenty of times so I know what that looks like.
“I’d love to come over, then.” Windsor smiles and it blinds me and melts me at the same time. For the first time in a few minutes I can breathe again. I can hold my breath for about three minutes while underwater. Somehow waiting for her response was worse than drowning. Now I’m elated. I want to skip the Halloween party tonight and go straight home now.
She starts eating her lunch without taking her eyes off me. Like she’s eating me instead of lettuce. “We’ll head there after the bar tonight,” I say.
“What are you dressing up as?” she asks.
I laugh. “I don’t dress up for Halloween anymore, Win. I look scary enough already,” I tease, running my hand up her leg. “Boo,” I whisper when she squirms.
“You certainly do scare me. That’s for sure,” she says removing my hand from her upper thighs. Begrudgingly, I start eating.
“What are you dressing up as?” I ask, curious what exactly “dress” means. She grins. Oh, I’m in for it.
“You’ll have to wait and see. Should I pack an overnight bag, then?” Sex. It’s all she’s thinking about. It’s all I can think of. It’s the one thing I don’t think I want to do with her yet. The heat in her eyes forces my answer.
“Of course, if you want, but you won’t be wearing much while you’re there,” I say. Every word was worth it to watch her fuck me with her eyes. I won’t have sex with her tonight. I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready for her to leave because there’s nothing left to do. I will indeed use my hands and mouth on every square centimeter of her body. We’ve never done that before and I think it will be enough. I’ll deal with blue balls for at least a week, but it will be so worth it. My gaze lands on the buttons of her shirt. She notices.
“That, my friend, is exactly what I wanted to hear,” she says. My cock twitches. “I guess I can tell you then. I’m going to be a devil tonight,” she whispers, biting her lip and then resting a hand on my thigh. She’s out for blood. I like it. I hate it. I’m not in for it. She’s out for it. I’m in trouble.
The waiter clears his throat and asks, “Do you need anything?” I need something alright.
She doesn’t take her eyes off mine. “Check please,” she mumbles.
I glance at the guy and nod. “Yes, the check, please. Everything was great,” I say, remembering the decent manners drilled into me by my parents since birth. He scurries away, leaving us alone again.
She’s shaking her head back and forth when I look her way. I narrow my eyes and cock my head in question. “You have no idea the effect you have on people, do you?” she asks. I smile. This causes her to shake her head a touch more furiously. I laugh.
“I only care about how I affect one person,” I admit.
“Fear not. I don’t think you could affect me any more unless you came in alcoholic drink form,” Windsor says. She crosses and uncrosses her legs.
“Drink form can be arranged,” I say, smiling so wide it hurts.
Chapter Nine
Windsor
I’m lying on the formal dining room table, legs spread wide open—naked except for a shirt. I shut my eyes as tightly as they’ll go and wait for it. This is a bad idea. I’ve said as much at least twelve times.
“Scoot your ass closer to the edge of the table.” Only one other person has said this to me: my gynecologist.
I do as I’m told. “I’m counting to twenty and you better be done,” I say through gritted teeth. This is painful—torturous on so many levels.
The hot wax meets my bikini zone and I jump from the unexpected heat.
“Ow, Gretchen. God, be a little more careful would you?” I can’t believe she talked me into this. “I feel like wax shouldn’t be where I feel it right now.”
She puffs out a sigh. I make the mistake of tilting my head up to glimpse her camping headlamp shining on my nether regions like a beacon from heaven. She’s biting her lip in extreme concentration. All I can do is groan and hope she ends this with my sex organs in tact.
“You need a fucking landing strip, Win. Don’t deny it. Your first kiss happened after you jumped out of a plane. It’s so poetic I’m a little jealous honestly,” Gretchen explains. “He needs to fuck you the first time with a landing strip.” I roll my eyes even though they’re closed.
