His voice was raw when he finally spoke. “I did say all that. And I want a hell of a lot more that I didn’t say.” He traced a fingertip along my jawline. “You said you wanted it, too.” He paused, the moment hanging heavy between us. “Is it still what you want?”
I nodded as the elevator car shuddered to a stop.
“Say it.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but it was too dry. I swallowed and tried again. “Yes,” I said as the doors slid open. “Oh, god, yes.”
He took my hand and led me off the elevator, but paused before opening the door to the condo. For a moment, he just looked at me. So long, in fact, that I began to feel uncomfortable.
“What?”
“All this time,” he said, but didn’t continue.
I shook my head, not understanding.
“All this time, all these years.” His brow furrowed as he studied my face, as if I were a puzzle to be solved. “I’ve thought there was something about you. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.”
“You see me,” I said simply. “I think you’ve always seen me.”
His smile was slow, gentle, and sweetly sexy. “Why would I want to look anywhere else?”
I felt my cheeks bloom with delight at the compliment. Then I followed him inside, feeling suddenly awkward. Like a teenager on a first date.
Evan, apparently, didn’t feel that way at all. He crossed the foyer toward the intercom panel as if he owned the place, then pressed the button to locate Peterson. “Ms. Raine and I would like the condo to ourselves for a while, Peterson. Take the rest of tonight and tomorrow off.”
“Certainly, sir.”
I gaped at Evan, not sure if I should be irritated that he was bossing around my butler or excited about the prospect of another twenty-four hours.
I settled on embarrassment when I realized that Evan had pretty much drawn Peterson a picture of what was going on up here. “Subtle, much?” I grumbled.
He only laughed. “Trust me, I can be very discreet when the occasion calls for it. Right now, though, you’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, those first date nerves firing up again. “So, do you want a glass of wine?”
“No,” he said simply. “I already told you what I want. I want you naked.”
Beneath the red lace of my bra, my nipples tightened. “I—oh.”
He nodded toward the bedroom. “On the bed. On your back. I’ll be along soon. Unless you’d rather I leave,” he added, when I didn’t move.
Slowly, I shook my head. And then, in the thick silence, I turned and started toward the bedroom.
I moved slowly, part of me wondering why I was so tentative. This was exactly what I’d wanted—and more. A man to take control. To not ask, but to tell. To not hesitate, but to act.
No, I corrected. Not a man. Evan.
There had only ever been Evan.
I still couldn’t quite believe he was here—and since I damn sure didn’t want him to go away, I did as I’d been told, gathering my courage and then unzipping my skirt. I considered folding it neatly, but I liked the recklessness that came from leaving it in a puddle on the floor, topped by my very damp panties.
I kicked my shoes aside and then moved to the bed, still in my shirt and bra. The air conditioner was blowing, and the breeze from the vent above me tickled my skin, and made me hyperaware of just how overheated I was.
Slowly, I unfastened the buttons of my blouse, letting my fingers drift over the swell of my breasts. I found the clasp on my bra and unfastened it, as well. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. All my wildness, all my adventures, and yet I’d never done anything like this before. I wanted it—dear god, I wanted it—but I couldn’t ignore the ripples of nerves or the tiny beads of sweat at the back of my neck and under my arms.
I drew in a deep breath for courage, then shimmied out of the blouse and tossed it carelessly over the side of the bed. And then, before I could think too much about it, I tugged off the bra and left it draped over the headboard, as if I’d tossed it there in a flurry of undressing.
And then that was it. I was naked.