Opening my eyes when he stops singing the lyrics, I glance over at the couch. I see his Cheap Trick t-shirt lying on the back of it and smile. Now I know where he got the inspiration for the song he’s singing, or at least I think I know. As he continues to sing the chorus while strumming his guitar, my body comes alive. My cheeks blaze and my pulse quickens. Sauntering toward him, I bite my lip hard, and my heart skips a beat as I feel the need to kiss his songful lips, to touch his bare chest.
Raising his head, he scans my body. When his eyes reach my short flowing skirt, he immediately stops playing. We stare at each other, and he cocks his head to the side as he sets his guitar down. His eyes are simmering. The look on his face tells me everything he wants. He actually looks like he wants to devour me. His tongue slips slowly out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip and when he pulls it back in, ever so slowly, I nearly faint from the raw sex appeal of his simple non-verbal statement.
I’m a few steps away when he combs his fingers through his disheveled hair, leaving strands sticking up here and there.
Setting the coffees down, removing my purse, and placing the items on the coffee table, I straddle his lap. “Hey sexy.”
He kisses the very corner of my mouth as he runs his hands from my boots to the bottom of my skirt. “Hi yourself.”
Tangling my fingers through his wet hair, I tug on his bottom lip with my mouth. “I really like that song.”
My thighs tingle as his hands glide under my skirt, I know the moment he feels my new undergarments because his body stiffens, and he lets out a short gasp. “I really like your . . .skirt.”
Sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, his explores the soft skin between my garter and my exposed thigh. “Did you buy this just for me?” he murmurs against my lips as he runs his fingers up and down the straps of my garters.
Laughing against his mouth I answer, “Maybe . . .”
Caressing my tongue with his, tasting me completely, he pauses to mutter, “Then your leaving was worth it.”
Moving my hands to his chest and grinding into him a little I quip, “Glad you approve.”
Sliding his nose to my ear, he gently bites my earlobe before whispering, “I loved your note.”
I smirk at him as his lips crash to mine, and he runs his palms up my back.
As his fingers move to the knot in my hair, he pulls out my elastic tie. “I called you.”
Crushing my body against his, my hands wander down his bare skin, along the sides of his torso. “Oh, the blocked caller was you?”
Running his fingers down the slight curve of my breasts and along each of my ribs, he says, “Let me see your phone.”
Not wanting to break our closeness, I say, “It’s behind me.”
“Can I see it?”
Twisting around, I reach for my purse and pull out my phone, fully exposing the top of one of my thighs.
“Fuck.” I hear him mutter as I turn back and say, “Here you go, sir,” with my southern belle accent. The one I find myself using every time he demands something or does something extremely charming. Odd. Not sure why I’m doing that.
Smirking at me, he takes my phone and taps on the screen before handing it back to me. “There you go, now you’ll know who I am when I call you,” he says with a wink.
“Do I get a picture?” I say, standing up to snap one before he answers.
Shaking his head at me with a ridiculously adorable grin on his face, he says, “My turn.” He gets up to retrieve his phone from the kitchen counter.
Holy shit! He has my lip-kissed underwear tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. Is he planning on keeping my panties as a souvenir? And that’s not all I notice. Walking his sway of a walk to the counter, I notice his jeans are a tad loose, exposing just a hint of the gift that lies beneath them. Of course he turns to see me gawking, but I just don’t care, as I stand there open-mouthed, gaping.
He grabs his phone and walks back to the couch. “Yeeesss . . .” he exaggerates while pulling up my skirt and running his phone up my leg.
I look at him quizzically, unable to comprehend anything right now until it clicks. “You are not taking a picture of my garter to store in your contact file,” I quip, pushing his hand away and lowering my skirt.