I slip the book back into the sleeve and set it aside on the table. The next book is the same. An autographed first edition, first printing copy of the nextHarry Potter book. All eight. All signed. But wait, there’s more—signed first edition hardcover editions of the entire Twilight series, as well.
My eyes water. “Thai, are you for real?”
He nods, shrugs. “I mean, yeah.” He smiles, but it’s uneven, uncertain. “In this case, Iamtrying to make up for the past. I destroyed at least one book that I remember. I saw the missing book in your house, and I just…it stung, you know? Like, you still have all your favorite books, you know? You clearly treasure them. And I know it doesn’t make up for what I did then, but hopefully those will go at least a little way toward…” A shrug, as he trails off. “I don’t know. Showing you I’m serious.” A hard swallow. “About you. About us.”
“It does,” I whisper. “It goes a long way. All of this does.”
He sets the rose on the table with the books; it has one of those water vial things on the cut end keeping it watered, so I don’t bother with taking the time to put it in a vase. There are other more pressing concerns, at the moment.
Such as his hands trailing over the buttons of my blouse. One button, two, three buttons, four…and then the blouse is on the floor and I’m in a skirt, plain white utilitarian bra, and a pair of flats. I swallow hard, because I’ve been naked with him twice now, but it’s still nerve-wracking at first, to lethimsee me. To let anyone see me naked, fully lit, flaws and all. And he’s in no rush. Once he has the shirt off, he just runs his hands over my shoulders, down my arms. Catches my waist, holds there, hands wrapped around me just above my hips. His eyes take me in, travel slowly from eyes to throat to breast. I lick my lips and meet his gaze, letting my own hunger for him, my own appreciation for his body fuel my confidence in myself. But the thing that shifts me from self-conscious in my half-dressed state to confident? Him. His eyes, on me. His expression.
Has any man ever been able to so clearly tell me how beautiful he finds me with no more than alook? No more than an expression on his face? Thai hasn’t said a word since peeling off my blouse, but his eyes say all that needs to be said.
He wants me naked for him, but he’s dragging this out on purpose, savoring each moment of the journey from clothed to nude.
I rest my hands on his shoulders and wait for him.
Instead of going for the bra next, his fingers travel around the waist of my skirt and seek the zipper. Find it. Slowly lower it, inch by inch, until the garment is loose, and then with a flick of his wrists, the skirt floats to pool around my feet. Kick off my shoes, toe them aside.
With each garment I lose, I feel more confident. More in need of his touch. His eyes on all of me. I want to be naked with him. I want that stupid towel off, but I make myself wait. Delay my own gratification.
He bites his lip, and I somehow know he’s trying to decide what to take off me next—bra or underwear.
I guide his hands to my waist. “You handle these,” I say, and then reach up behind my back. “I’ll handle this.”
He grins, shoving my underwear down. “I like this plan. Gets you naked faster.”
“I thought you’d like that.” I unhook the clasps and shrug the bra forward and off, stepping out of the underwear at the same time. “Your turn.”
“I figured—okay.” His protest was cut short as I yanked the towel off him.
I slide my fingernails down his abs, over his navel, to his burgeoning erection. “Hey, I missed you too, you know. You’re not the only one with needs, here, buster.”
He hisses as I wrap my hands around him. “But I had plans for you. You’re gonna derail them, if you keep that up.”
“You had plans, huh?” I feel need swelling inside me, expanding in my chest, blossoming in my belly, soaking my core. Making my hands greedy for him. “What if I had plans of my own, Thai? Did you ever think of that? Huh? What if I’ve spent the entire weekend dreaming aboutthis?” I squeeze him, not bothering to stifle my groan of pleasure at the feel of his thick hard flesh in my fist. “What if I spent the entire flight and the whole drive here trying to decide what I wanted more…”
I ply him with both hands, now.
“Doing this…” I say, with a squeeze and a twist. “Or…this?”
I drop to my knees, crumpling my skirt under my knees for padding against the tile. Pull him away from his belly and kiss the tip, a brush of my lips, as if I was taking the first bite of an ice cream cone.
“Ohhh fuck, Dee.” His hands bury in my hair, knotting convulsively. “Jesus, your mouth.”
I stroke him, both hands, twisting. Lick the tip. “Want to know something about me, Thai?”
He hisses, then groans, and his eyes flutter into the back of his head. “Whazz’at?” God, he’s gone adorably stupid.
“I don’t…do this, a lot.” I pause, plunge my fists down to his root, and then pull him toward my face and take a mouthful of him, bobbing down on him until I’m swallowing around him. “But not for the reasons you may think.”
“What reasons…uhh…what reasons do think I would assume?”
“That I don’t like doing it. That I’m too prudish for it.”
He gathers my hair in his hands, two fistfuls of my black tresses, piling it on my head. His head tips back as I pull my mouth off him, lick the tip, then up the side facing me from midway to the tip, and then take a mouthful of him and bob down around him again.
“You…you wouldn’t be wrong. Clearly, those assumptions are—are incorrect, however.”
