“It’s a nice night,” he said with a shrug.He wore canvas shorts ragged at the hems and a plain white T-shirt.One arm was slung over the back of the swing, and a bottle of beer dangled from his fingers.“Not too hot.I thought I’d enjoy it for a while.”
She jerked her chin at the beer.“I hope there’s more of that.”
“Plenty,” he said and held it out to her.
It was an unmistakable challenge—and to Bailey, irresistible.Her belly quivering with the thrill of it, she took the bottle, keeping her eyes on his as she lifted it to her lips.
The mouth of the bottle was warm, the beer icy cold.It slid down her throat smooth and easy, and when she lowered the bottle, a drop of liquid clung to her bottom lip.
She swiped her tongue out to catch it and handed the bottle back.“Thanks.”
The dimple appeared in his cheek, and he lifted the bottle in a silent toast.
“What’s for dinner?”
“I hit up the Colonel for a bucket,” he said, the dimple still winking in his cheek.
“Original recipe or extra crispy?”
“A mix.”
“Aw, you remembered.”
The dimple deepened.“How could I forget?”
“Did you get all dark meat?”
“No, but I’ll fall on my sword and eat the breasts.”
“Good enough.”She stepped across the porch and pushed open the front door.“I’m going to go change.”
“I’ll be here,” he drawled and lifted the beer to drink.
Enjoying the dance of nerves, the tingle of anticipation, she shut the door behind her and kicked off her shoes.She hurried through the house and up the stairs to strip out of the black jeans and T-shirt she’d worn for work, then dug into her dresser for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
Except there weren’t any shorts.With a muffled curse, she glanced at the hamper in the corner.She’d meant to do laundry yesterday when she’d gotten home from the hotel, but between mowing the lawn, dinner at her mom’s, and conversations with about gang bangs, she’d forgotten all about it.She pulled out a pair of capri pants, then shoved them back in the drawer.It was too hot for pants, so that left only one option.
The gray dress was wonderfully comfortable and marvelously cool.The T-shirt fabric was blissfully soft, skimming gently over breast and belly before falling to swing loosely around her thighs, generating its own breeze when she moved.It stopped just before her knees, an objectively respectable length, more’s the pity.She could’ve used an advantage in this upcoming conversation.
Crossing to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she eyed the effect.The dress wasn’t as loose over her tits as she’d thought, and the fabric was thin enough that it didn’t completely obscure the texture of the lace bra underneath.Pleased, she turned to judge the back view.
“Lord, that’s a lot of ass,” she muttered, but she wasn’t mad about it.Nash had always loved her butt, even more than her boobs—which, for a girl used to guys going gaga over her F-cups, had been a pleasant surprise.He’d been her first ass-man, and she had yet to meet another so enthusiastic for her derrière.
Turning back around, she grabbed her hairbrush off the dresser.She’d left her hair down for work, the better to show off the cut and the streaks of color, but she wanted it off her neck.She brushed it out then twisted it up, securing it with a clip at the back of her head.Her bangs dipped down so the point of the subtle widow’s peak hit between her brows, and the purple color streaked throughout matched the colored contacts she wore.
She frowned at her refection.Her eyes were looking a little red, feeling a little gritty, which meant she needed to take the contacts out.The air in the salon was dry, and it wasn’t unusual for her eyes to be irritated after a work day.It wasn’t a big problem, but if she continued to wear the contacts it could turn into one.
She didn’t need them to see—they were strictly a fashion accessory—but she’d wanted to keep them in for tonight.An extra layer of armor for the coming battle.
But it wasn’t worth the irritation, so with a grumbling sigh, she stepped into the bathroom to take them out.When they were cleaned and stored away, she used the edge of one fingernail to scrape away at the mascara that had smudged under her eyes during the day.With her own hazel eyes staring back at her, she swiped on a layer of lip balm, then considered the bottle of scented body lotion on the edge of the sink.
She’d have to strip everything off to put it on, and it would be a waste, anyway—they weren’t going to fuck tonight.Flirt, certainly.Tease, probably.Maybe some kissing, some petting—and with that thought in mind, she ran a testing hand up her calf.Not baby smooth, she mused, but good enough, and made a note to addexfoliate and shaveto her morning shower routine, just in case.
Because he did want to fuck her.He’d been shocked by her proposal—okay, her demand—and his innate sense of honor had led him to question both her sincerity and her sanity.But behind all the questions, all the are-you-sures and why-mes, he’d been aroused.
She knew him too well for him to hide that from her.
Of course, he knew her well, too, and the chances of her being able to hide anything from him were about as good as the chances of Gwen deciding to tell her mother to go jump in a gator-infested lake.Which is why she’d decided on a strategy of straightforward honesty.