Careful not to rip the dress, he shifted it so her breast was exposed, ready to flick his tongue across her ripe nipple. Only there was no nipple, ripe and pink and ready for him.
Instead it was covered with what looked like a white drink coaster.
“What the hell?” He touched the cup shapedthingtentatively. It was soft paper.
“It’s a pastie,” Reese said. “I can’t wear a bra with this dress, but I didn’t want my nipples showing.”
Which was all fine and good, but what the hell was he supposed to do with it?
He plucked at the edge of it with his fingernail. It didn’t budge.
The stupid thing was between him and paradise and he had no idea what his next move should be.
Christ. He had never been trained to deal with a situation like this.
“Does it come off?”
TWENTY-FOUR
Reese blinked.Oh, Lord, Knight was looking at her like he was faced with a bomb he had thirty seconds to defuse. If her pleasure was derailed by a pastie, she was going to sue somebody.
“Of course it comes off. You just pull it.” What did he think? She was going to spend eternity with a piece of tape stuck to her?
Reluctantly letting her hands drop from over her head, she reached into her dress. She had kind of liked that cop/suspect thing they’d had going on. With little patience or finesse, she stripped the pasties off her skin and tossed them on the floor.
Knight winced. “Jesus, doesn’t that hurt?”
Not as much as wanting to have sex with him and instead standing there doing nothing.
“No. Now, what were you saying before that?” To make her point clear, she put her hands back up over her head and licked her lips.
Knight drew his gaze from the abandoned pasties on the floor and went wide-eyed. That was good. Right back where she wanted him.
He might think he was a federal agent in charge, but she knew better. He wanted her bad, which was just right.
“I have no goddamn idea what I was saying.”
Then his mouth covered her breast, and his warm wet tongue tickled across her nipple. She squirmed against the door, wanting way more than that. Knight had tugged until her dress was under the swell of her breast and he held it in place while his fingers rushed along her sensitive skin and his mouth covered her more fully.
“Keep talking,” she murmured, only to give a cry of disappointment as he pulled back.
Small kisses rained down her ribs and abdomen over her dress as he bent down. Reese reached for him. “Where are you going? Come back up here.”
He took her hands and pressed them back against the wall, next to her thighs. “Ma’am, you’re interfering with a federal investigation. Just stand still, please.”
As if she could move a muscle. Not when every one in her body was a squishy mass of orgasmic anticipation.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, focusing on the top of his head, trying to keep her eyes open, noticing the little swirl of darker hair he had at the crown.
“I want to know what happened to your panties.”
His hands were under her dress, inching upward until his thumb and forefinger touched the front of her lace panties, stroking back and forth. Reese gripped the door and tilted her legs together as desire shot through her, ripping into every inch of her body and flooding her inner thighs with moist heat.
“Nothing happened to them, except they’re a little warmer than they were before.” Hot enough to melt plastic, in fact.
“I saw them before...” Knight was inching her dress up over her hips as he spoke. “Then when I felt your ass, they were gone, and now they’re back. How is that possible?”
Reese wanted to explain the mysteries of the thong and the desire to eliminate unsightly panty lines in clinging cocktaildresses, but her mouth was too full of saliva to speak without gurgling.