“The whole dress.”
“And you want to negotiate now?” Folding her hands in her lap, she smiled demurely. “Not happening.”
“Damn it, Rachel. You’re killing me. I want to see your body. All of it. In the light. Not try to make out detailsby the diluted light of oncoming traffic. Just...” He tunneled his hands through his hair...and immediately finger-combed it into a semblance of submission. Then he set about picking up the buttons that had scattered when she’d removed his shirt, gathering them all before opening a drawer on the built-in dresser and depositing them inside. When he retrieved his shirt, folded it and set it on top of the dresser, her suspicions were confirmed.
Isaac Miller was a man who needed order and control.
Part of Rachel wanted to panic. Jeff, her ex, had tried to control her. No, not control exactly. More that he’d tried to dominate her in every aspect of their relationship. Isaac had kept his need for control to himself. Literally. He’d not once tried to controlherbut, rather, had tried to negotiate what he wanted while keeping his own person and his surroundings controlled. When it came to his treatment of her? There had been nothing but respect. That made Isaac different than Jeff. And different was what she needed tonight.
She shifted her body to give him a good look at her cleavage, teasing him and, in an unexpected turn, being teasedby him when she saw the way his eyes flared as they took her in. Running a hand up the front of her dress, she hooked her pointer finger over the fabric and tugged just enough to expose more flesh. “Answer my questions, Isaac, and the dress comes off.”
He cursed, short and swift and colorful, then gave a curt nod. “At this point? Ask me anything and I’ll answer just to see you lying across my bed with nothing but the shoes on.”
“When was the last time a woman went down on you?”
His eyes tightened, small crow’s feet appearing at the corners. “Does it matter?”
“If you want this to come off—” she let one shoulder of the dress slip “—you’ll answer me, and not with another question. What happens next is up to you.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Which translates to how long?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
Her eyebrows winged up. “Are you serious?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “This is a bit uncomfortable for me.”
Without a word, she dropped the dress from her shoulders to her waist and revealed the long-line bra she wore. All of it—the deep V in the front; the low corset back; the demi cups that supported her breasts; the lace edge of each cup that barely revealed each dusky nipple’s crest.
Isaac let out a soft groan. Jaw clenched, he reached for her and then stopped himself, letting his hand fall back to his side.
He didn’t look away, though, and Rachel swore the weight of his gaze was so heavy it could have been measured.
His cock kicked, pushing away from his belly before the elastic pulled it back against his abdomen.
“Rachel,” he said, not pleading, exactly, but not far from it. “I’m going to assume you asked about my history for a reason.”
“I did.” Lifting her left breast from the lace cup, she gently rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
He watched without blinking.
A growl rumbled up from deep in his chest. “I can’t think with you touching yourself like that.”
“Good.”
He shot her the briefest glance. “Good?” he choked out.
She lowered her voice. “That means we’re even.”
Isaac let his head fall back and he groaned loud this time. “Please, Rachel.”
With decided casualness, she removed the bra and tossed it onto the floor, where it landed across one of his feet.
Rising up, she shimmied the rest of the way out of her dress. He’d done away with her underwear in the car, so all she had on were the shoes.
As requested, she left them.