Probably, it was the same kind of smile that all those groupies gave him, just before flinging their undies, or hell, even themselves, straight at him.
Trying to be at least alittlereasonable, I added, "But if you'd rather take it off yourself, um, while I watched, that would be really nice, too."
"Yeah?" He looked almost ready to laugh. "Good to know."
Was he making fun of me?
If he was, I couldn’t bring myself to care, because soon, he was standing near the bed, reaching his free hand toward the collar of his button-down shirt.
Never taking his gaze from mine, he deliberately unfastened the top button and then slowly went for the second.
Button by button, he progressed lower, until the shirt fell open, giving me a glorious view of his muscular pecs, his lean torso, and those spectacular washboard abs, firm and tight, visible just above the waistband of his dark, tailored slacks.
I felt myself smile.Yup. Pure perfection.
But then again. I'd known that already, hadn't I?
As I watched, he slid the shirt off his shoulders, and let it hang, as if momentarily forgotten, while he gazed down at me.
Mesmerized, I drank in the sight him – his eyes, his face, and his nearly naked torso, with all those finely chiseled muscles and exotic tattoos. Soon, the shirt was sliding to the floor, where it fell in a gray, rumpled heap.
Bare-chested now, Jake prowled forward, slowly and deliberately, until leaned over me and brushed my lips with a kiss so light, it only made me hungry for more.
But therewasno more. He pulled back, unwound the scarf, and then, leaned over me again to fasten the it firmly over my eyes, making everything go surprisingly dark.
It was almost funny, because I hadn't realized the scarf was so opaque. Again, I couldn't help but wonder how much of this was planned, even inside that boutique, when he'd insisted on buying me that scarf, in spite of its outrageous price tag.
I recalled his smile as he'd draped it over my shoulders and whispered, "I'll be seeing you in that later."
And now, he was. But I couldn’t see him.
Still, through his motions, I could sense what he was doing – tugging the blindfold tighter, tying it with some sort of knot, and then, once more, brushing his lips softly against mine before pulling back, as if seeking a better view.
Desperately, I reached out with both hands, seeking, and finding, his chest. Hungry for the feel of him, I trailed my fingers over the lines and ridges of his torso, until he pulled slowly away, leaving my fingers brushing only air.
Missing him, I whispered, "Jake?"
Soon, I felt his fingers working the button of my jeans, and then my zipper, which he slid down with one leisurely motion. I then felt his hands on my hips, gripping the thick fabric of my jeans and tugging downward until the cool air kissed my pelvis, and then my thighs, followed by my calves.
Lastly, he tugged off my socks, one-by-one.
And then, he was gone.
I didn't know where to, until – obviously from somewhere beside the bed – he started working the buttons of my blouse, unfastening them slowly, as if we had all the time in the world.
At the thought, I felt myself smile. Wedidhave all the time in the world. He was home, and the way it sounded, he wasn't going anywhere, at least not any time soon.
His voice, soft and seductive, drifted over me. "I love that smile."
"I loveyou." I paused. "Even if I can'tseeyou."
His tone grew teasing. "Is that a complaint?"
"Uh, yes?"
"Uh-huh," he said, obviously unconvinced.
I almost laughed. "You aresococky."
