It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(101)

Through the fishnet, she could feel his hands all over her. He shifted his weight, tugging at her dress to get at the rest of her, while she began pulling at his shirt studs. Both of them lost all sense of how precarious their perch was until they felt themselves rolling off the couch. Just as they hit the carpet, he turned his body so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight.

Even after they had landed, they didn’t immediately release each other’s mouths. When she finally opened her eyes to look at him under her, he was smiling.

“Are you having as much fun as I am?”

“More.” She couldn’t resist kissing the small scar on his chin.

“Phoebe, darlin’, I’ve got to get you out of that dress.”

“Don’t yell,” she whispered.

“I thought I already explained to you—”

“I don’t have anything on under it.”

He blinked. “Nothing? I know you’re wearing panty hose. I saw—”

She shook her head. “No panty hose. No garter belt. The dress is too tight.”

“But, you’ve got black stockings—”

“The kind that hold themselves up at the thigh.”

He rolled off her. “Phoebe Somerville, are you telling me that you don’t even have on any underpants?”

“They leave a line.”

“Just two black stockings?”

“And a spritz of White Diamonds.”

He jumped up and pulled her none-too-gently to her feet. “We’re headin’ straight for the bedroom, darlin’. Since there’s a good chance I’m going to have a heart attack before the night’s over, I want to die in my own bed.”

His silly banter made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. He snuggled her against his side as they walked back out into the hallway and climbed the staircase. When they reached the landing at the top, he drew her through a doorway on the right into a spacious bedroom that looked as if it had been carved out of several smaller rooms. The ceiling sloped on both sides, and the wall on the right was stone. One end of the room held a comfortable sitting area, the other an old sleigh bed, which was covered in a beautiful Zuni Indian blanket of burnt orange, black, green, and cream.

He stopped in the center of the room and reached under her hair to open the hook at the back of the fabric collar that encircled her throat. His clever hands moved lower and found the fastenings on the strap that so cruelly bound her breasts. She sighed with relief as the pressure eased and the fishnet bodice fell to her hips.

“Hurt?”

“A little.”

He reached around her from behind and gently caressed her breasts, soothing away the red marks with his thumbs. “Phoebe, promise me you won’t show yourself off like this again.”

She turned in his arms and kissed him so she didn’t have to answer because she wasn’t making any promises to him until she’d heard a few in return.

Dan’s big hands slid up along her spine. He wanted to go on kissing her forever. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, the feel of her skin, the sweet woman’s scent of her. But he hadn’t waited this long to have it over so quickly, and he released her.

She gave a moan of disappointment as he stepped back. He loved the fact that she didn’t want him to let her go. Pulling his shirttail from his pants, he sank down into a chair so he could look at her. A small pile of straps and fishnet had fallen in loops about her waist, and her breasts, round and swollen, were so beautiful he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. How could he even have imagined marrying Sharon when he felt like this about Phoebe? His heart had known the truth long before his mind had figured it out.

He lifted his gaze and was jarred by the uncertainty he saw in her expression. Those tiny little furrows between her brows, that hesitation in her manner, were completely at odds with her sinner’s body. Having her look so vulnerable scared him. Some part of him wanted her aggressive and knowing, ready when it was over to raise her sharp-pointed fingernail file to the bedpost and add another slash mark next to his initials. But his heart didn’t want that at all. He smiled to relieve the growing tension between them.

“You could make me a happy man, darlin’, if you’d slide that dress off real slow, so I could see if you’re lyin’ to me about your underwear.”

Her lips parted softly, and her eyes widened as if she had never taken off her clothes for a man in her life. That look of shy innocence combined with her nuclear reactor body nearly undid him.

When she didn’t move, he cocked his head and inquired softly, “You don’t want to do that virgin thing again tonight, do you, honey? Because I’m afraid you’ve put me in the mood for something a little spicier?”

“The virgin thing? Oh, no. No, I—” She clasped the wisps of fabric at her waist and began to peel.

“Not so fast now. Could we sort of pretend—now don’t take this the wrong way because I don’t mean anything disrespectful by it—but could we pretend that I’m planning to leave a hundred-dollar bill on the dresser after this is over, and I’m expecting to get my money’s worth out of this striptease?”

Her smile was a little wobbly at the corners. “What’s underneath this dress is definitely worth more than a hundred dollars.”

“As long as you take American Express, you can name your price.”