“How should I—what should I—maybe I—” She gripped the collar of her shirt. “Should I undress?”
“I don’t know. It’s not in the lesson plan.” Once the words were out, he wanted to take them back. Her lists annoyed the hell out of him, but he didn’t need to belittle her. “I’m sor—”
“You’re right. I didn’t think to include that.” She hurried past him to the nightstand. After she considered the list for a moment, she bent down and picked up the pen, demonstrating the only reason why a woman should wear a pencil skirt: to show off the perfectly rounded curves of her fine ass.
That had to be why it took so long for her cluelessness to register. She hadn’t caught his rudeness or his sarcasm. Maybe she was one of those book-smart people who didn’t know how to socialize, and he was being too hard on her. “If I told you your lesson plans are insulting, what would you do?” he asked quietly.
She looked at him over her shoulder with alarmed eyes. “Are there parts I should reword? I’d be happy to change things.” She turned back to the lesson plan and skimmed her fingers over the lines at a thoughtful pace.
The ball of irritation in his chest loosened. He couldn’t be annoyed with her when she didn’t understand.
She worried the inside of her lip and tapped her fingers on the table with increasing speed before sending him an anxious look. “Should I have written something other than Performance Review? I hope you know when I wrote that, I meant my performance. There’s nothing wrong with your performance. Even if there were, I wouldn’t know. I’m not qualified in any way to judge—”
Before she could work herself into another panic attack, he said, “It was just a hypothetical question. Forget about it.”
She seemed confused for a second, but she blinked the look away and released a relieved breath. “Oh, okay.” After adjusting her glasses, she turned back to her papers and neatly wrote Stella’s in front of each iteration of Performance Review.
That was a good reminder. This was about helping with Stella’s performance. That was it. So what if she wasn’t viewing this as the fulfillment of secret fantasies like his other clients did? He needed to take his own advice and stop thinking.
When she flipped to the second page in the pile, he shrugged out of his jacket, draped it over the arm of a chair, and unbuttoned his shirt. Tugging the tails free, he sat on the bed next to Stella. She snuck a quick glance at him, and her gaze dropped to the portion of skin revealed by his open shirt. The pen paused in midscrawl, clattered to the tabletop.
He smiled with satisfaction. Not so clinical now.
She squared her shoulders before she lifted her hands to her collar. Buttons came undone at a painstaking pace, and white fabric fluttered to the floor, followed by her gray skirt. The set of her jaw was determined as she let him look at her. And look he did.
He usually preferred women with bigger breasts, lusher hips, and rounded thighs. He liked their softness, the way they filled his hands. That was not Stella. Everything about her was modest. Wearing only a flesh-toned bra and panties, her petite body was composed of elegant shoulders and arms, a little waist that flared to gently curved hips, and shapely legs with delicate ankles. She wasn’t what he’d thought he’d always wanted, but she was perfect.
“Take your bra off.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. He was dying to see the rest of her. She might not have fantasized about their time together, but he had.
Down at her sides, her hands fisted. “Is that necessary? They’re not my best feature. They’re small.”
“Yes, it’s necessary. Men like to see them even when they’re small.” And touch them. God, he wanted to touch them.
She grimaced, looking like she wanted to argue with him. When she reached behind herself and slid her bra off, he caught his breath.
Then he bit his lip as he grinned. Stella didn’t seem to know it, but she had the kind of nipples men and babies dreamed about. Rosy-tinted areolas gave way to extravagantly protruding tips that—no question about it—had to stay pointed 24/7, hot or cold, rain or shine. Stella Lane, conservative economist, had porn star nipples. And he wanted them in his mouth.
“What now?” she asked in a near whisper.
He slipped his shirt off and tossed it on the far side of the bed. “I think you get to check a box.”
She peeled her eyes from his chest and stared at him like he’d spoken another language. After several hard blinks, she shook her head and said, “Right.”
Leaning over, she checked a box at the top of the list. She adjusted her glasses and paused. The glasses came off, and she pulled the tie from her hair and shook out the mass so it framed her face. Vulnerable brown eyes searched his before she focused on the wall to the side.
The air seeped from his lungs as his internal organs melted and the rest of him hardened. So gorgeous.
And scared. How did he ease her fear?
“Let me hold you.”
She inched as close as she could get without actually touching him.
He suppressed a smile. “It might help if you sat on my lap.”
Biting her lip, she crawled onto him and straddled his hips. Fuck, so close. That part of her, opened wide. He went hard in an instant but forced himself to take things slowly. This was about Stella. He expected her to sit stiff as a board until he thought up some kind of sorcery to make her relax, but she immediately settled in close and rested her cheek against his shoulder. When his arms encircled her, she released a ragged sigh and went boneless.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and he let himself savor the moment—not speaking, not fucking, not doing anything, just being with someone. The room was so quiet he heard the cars driving by outside. Talking voices passed their room, receded.
“Are you falling asleep again?” he asked finally.
“No.”
“Good.” He ran his fingertips down the length of her arm and smiled when goose bumps rippled outward. Nuzzling her neck, he breathed in the soft scent of her skin and kissed the sweet spot just behind her jaw. Her lips called to him, but instead of trespassing, he sucked on her earlobe and bit it, startling a shaky sigh from her.
“This is foreplay?” The breathy quality of her voice sent satisfaction curling through him.
“It is.” Even though he knew the answer, he asked against her ear, “Do you like it?”
She shivered and burrowed closer to him as additional goose bumps dotted her skin. “Yes, but it’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me if you want me to stop or there’s something specific you want.” As he spoke, he threaded his fingers into her hair and angled her head back. He trailed kisses along her jawline, nipped her chin, and kissed the corner of her mouth.
Too close to the temptation of her lips. His body ached at the thought of taking her mouth in a deep kiss, and he almost did it despite everything. He’d been dreaming of that mouth all week. Feeling like he was swimming against the tide, he forced his lips down to the column of her throat.
“Touch me.” He brought her hands to his chest.
She scraped her palms over him until they encountered his nipples. As if fascinated by the texture, she rubbed her thumbs on the hardening tips. His muscles tightened, and he shuddered with pleasure.
“Is that right?” she asked.
“I like that. And this.” He cupped dainty breasts in his palms and pinched the nipples just so.
Her breath broke, and she gazed down at her chest. With his tanned hands on her pale skin and her decadent nipples captured between his fingers, it was an erotic sight, indeed. He couldn’t resist pinching her again and enjoying her sharp intake of breath.
“Why does it feel so good when you do that?” The wonder in her voice had him grinning.
“Want to try something even better?” At her hesitant nod, he said, “Come up on your knees for me.”
Her thighs flexed as she rose off his lap. Body stiff and breaths shallow, she settled her hands on his shoulders. Just as he’d planned, the new position brought her nipples to face level. Though, if she wasn’t careful, she’d poke an eye out with those things. Only in his line of work was blindness by nipple assault a true hazard. To be honest, however, he didn’t really feel like he was working. There was no fantasy playing in his head, and he wasn’t telling himself a new lie every fifteen seconds. This moment, this woman, and his undeniable attraction to her were all real.