“I went to the bathroom so I could brush my teeth and freshen up. I was thinking maybe I’d make a move, but when I came back you were out like a light.”

“I had no idea.” She pops the button.

“I’ve been flirting with you since day one.”

“I was too busy being aggravated that you were my competition and you were so hot, and composed, and I was always too flustered to notice that you were flirting. Plus, it’s your job to flirt.” She drags the zipper down slowly.

“I’m friendly with customers, but I flirt with you. There’s a difference.”

“Hmm. You’ll have to explain that difference later, so I’m in the know.” She slips her index finger under the waistband of my boxer briefs and pulls them away from my skin, peeking inside. I doubt she can see much since the lights are low and it’s dark in my underwear.

“What’re you doing?”

“I want to see what I’m dealing with.”

“You can touch him, he doesn’t bite.”

“Him?” She peeks up, her expression amused. “Does he have a name?”

I scoff. “Of course not.” I call him The Sword of Destiny in my head, though.

“I don’t believe you.” She reaches inside and skims the length.

I groan and prop one fist on the counter, the other still cupping her breast. I have plans to take that bra off eventually, but I’m kind of in love with it and also distracted by the fact that her hand is in my pants.

She wraps her fingers around me, giving me a tentative squeeze before she frees me from my boxers. Her bottom lip is between her teeth and she peers down, exhaling what sounds like a relieved breath along with the words. “Thank God.”

“Thank God, what?”

Her gaze flips back up to mine, and I have a feeling she didn’t mean to say that out loud. Her cheeks might be turning pink, but the lighting makes it hard to tell.

“I just wasn’t sure where the tattoos started and ended.”

I bark out a laugh. “That’s a hard pass area for me. There isn’t much going on below the waist.”

Blaire raises a brow and gives my erection a squeeze. “I’d beg to differ.”

“I mean tattoo wise.”

“Ah yes, well, I guess I’ll be able to confirm that soon enough.”

She pulls my mouth back to hers and I continue to tease her nipple while she strokes me. It’s probably an awkward angle for her hand, considering I’m standing between her thighs, but I’m not all that interested in stopping her and she doesn’t seem to mind.

When the sensation gets to be too much for me to handle—meaning when I’m worried I’m going to blow in her hand—I start kissing my way down her neck.

Reaching around behind her, I flick the clasp of her bra open. It slides down her arms and lands on the counter, then drops to the floor with the rest of our clothes. I kiss my way across her collarbone and down over the swell until I can cover a nipple with my mouth.

Blaire moans, and she loses her grip on my erection. It’s not a bad thing, considering I’m already close to an edge I don’t want to be near when we’ve hardly even started with the foreplay.

Her fingers slide into my hair, the other hand moving to grip my shoulder. I use her distraction to my advantage and tuck myself back into my pants so I can focus on making her feel good. If I can make her come before the sex—if we get to that, I’m not making assumptions but I’m hoping—then it’ll take some of the pressure off.

I ease my palm up her thigh, moving inward. Her legs are parted to accommodate me, so when I reach the apex I brush my knuckles over the satin.

“Oh yes, please.” She spreads her legs wider.

This is what I want, for all that uptight Instagram perfection to fall away. I want her uninhibited and unworried about anything but how she feels. I keep sweeping my knuckles back and forth, barely skimming the damp fabric. “Do you like that, Blaire?”

“Mmm, it’s nice.” She wriggles her butt.

I slip a single finger under the elastic and I’m met with hot, wet skin.

“Oh, that’s so much nicer.” Her eyes flutter closed as I stroke her center, easing a finger inside.

She props herself on her arms and she bites her lip, moaning softly when I add a second finger. Her head rolls on her shoulders and her lids flutter open, gaze dropping to where my forearm disappears under her skirt. “God, that is so hot,” she groans, and her fingertips graze my inked arm.

“It is, isn’t it?” I agree. “You look like a good girl who got caught up with a bad boy.” She looks like she fell right out of the fifties with her perfect hair and retro dresses, which makes her current position, with the top hanging at her waist and my hand under the bunched-up skirt, seem that much more illicit. And those steel-toed boots paired with her thigh-high stockings are the icing on the sexy cupcake.

She drags her skirt up higher, exposing my hidden forearm and wrist, all the way up to where her panties are pushed to the side and I’m buried inside her.

I curl the fingers of my free hand around the back of her neck, thumb stroking along the edge of her jaw. “You like watching what I’m doing to you, Blaire?”

She fists the fabric and moans again. “Yes.”

“You gonna be a good girl and come all over my hand?” I pump faster, taking cues from the way her breath catches.

“Oh God,” she groans and tries to close her legs, but her knees hit my hips. And then her orgasm hits—she contracts around my fingers, hips swiveling as she rides my hand.

“You are so damn sexy,” I assure her.

Before the orgasm wanes, I withdraw my fingers. She makes a plaintive sound, probably unimpressed that I stopped mid-orgasm, but I’m planning to make up for that. I yank her panties down. They get caught up on her boots, but I manage to get them off without shredding them. I grip her by the hip and drag her to the edge of the counter as I drop to my knees.

“What—”

The rest of her question dissolves into a gasp when I lick up her center.

She falls back on one elbow, the other hand sliding into my hair and gripping tight.

“Mmm, just like one of those cream-filled cupcakes you made me eat in front of that bachelorette party.” I cover her sex with my mouth. “But tastes even better.”

That gets a moan out of her, slightly embarrassed, but also totally turned on based on the way she rolls her hips and rides my tongue back to another orgasm.

As soon as I rise up, she grabs the nape of my neck with one hand and fuses her mouth to mine. She mumbles something completely unintelligible, mostly because she’s sucking on my tongue. She frantically searches for the waistband of my underwear with the other one and jams her hand down the front, freeing me from my boxers.

She breaks the kiss. “You have condoms, right?”

I pull my wallet from my back pocket, flip it open, and slap it on the counter so I can retrieve the condom that’s been in there since before August.

As soon as it’s in my hand, Blaire nabs it and squints at the date before she tears it open. Her tongue peeks out as she rolls it down my length and uses her foot—the boots are still on, and I’m still wearing my pants—to pull me closer.