Craving You

She dropped the phone in her small, satin silver clutch. L.L. wore a glittery silver gown that featured a V’d dip in the bodice, between the valley of her breasts, exposing the inner swells. A slit between her legs rose to mid-thigh. Her back was bare, the low sweep of the material resting along her tailbone.

Ducking into her bathroom, she applied another coat of gloss. Ensured the smoky-accented makeup around her green eyes hadn’t smudged. Her hair was loosely secured at the nape of her neck in a series of intricate, artistic knots. Softly curled strands were left around her temples and shoulders. The only jewelry she wore were slim, elongated silver hoops. Not only was there no point of detracting from the dress, L.L. didn’t own expensive accessories. She had a few indulgences, some born of necessity, like having the appropriate gown on-hand for a swank event. But she was pretty good at saving her pennies for her business.

Returning to the kitchen, she checked her overnight tote one more time to make certain she hadn’t forgotten anything. Exhilaration ribboned through her at the thought of spending the evening with Tague. The entire evening.

There were some jitters, sure. Yet even if she was a little anxious over being with a man for the first time in six years, her snapping and sizzling nerve endings overpowered the fear.

So she was a bit calmer than she’d anticipated this evening. Really, the only reservations she currently had were meeting his parents.

And the discovery of her occupation.

Was she really just supposed to make the grand declaration if Tague’s mother inquired?

Tague had given L.L. ample reason to dread the introductions, and this was one more layer of tension. But he also seemed wholly grounded in convictions of being his own man, and not wrapped up in any sort of family drama.

One more thing she liked about him. Tague had strength of body, mind and spirit, giving her a boost of confidence over the impending situation.

He was also quite punctual. He knocked on her door at six-thirty, as promised.

L.L. crossed to the front door right in the middle of the split kitchen-dining room combo, there not even being a foyer to speak of in her small apartment.

Stealing herself for the vision of Tague in a tux, she released the three locks and heavy security chain, then yanked open the door.

Only to lose her breath, to hell with preparing for how mind-boggingly gorgeous the man would be all decked out in formal attire.

“Wow.” Her eyes popped. Her nipples puckered.

Tague was by far the sexiest damn thing she’d ever seen. Pierce Brosnan had nothing on this man. He was silently, yet wildly charismatic with his magnetic presence and hypnotic smile. His glowing midnight eyes. His lush, onyx locks.

He wore his tux with a black shirt and black silk tie. His overcoat was dark as night as well, and accented with a white cashmere scarf. Likely Hermes.

He handed her a single red rose while she tried to remember her own name. And while her insides ignited from the way he slowly took her in from head to toe.

“Loralai,” he simply said in a heated tone.

Their gazes locked. His jaw clenched. Sparks ignited between her legs.

“Jesus, Tague,” she said, thoroughly captivated. “The way you look at me—”

“You’re a showstopper, baby. This dress is… Fuck.” He dragged a hand along his face. “You are so unbelievably beautiful.”

Emotion welled in her throat.

“Each time I see you, I can’t imagine you looking any more sensational. And then you do.”

“So…okay for the evening?”

“Beyond okay.”

Her nerves settled a little. “Thank you.”

“No.” He shook his head. Gave her an earnest look. “Thank you.”

She knew her smile was a grateful one.

Tague asked, “Shall we start with the business aspect of the evening?” He reached into the inner pocket of his tux jacket, unfolded a sheet of paper and handed it over. “I highlighted the pertinent parts.”

L.L. stared at the yellow tint over his test results. All good, as Meg had schooled her to determine when she and L.L. had split as a couple—insisting L.L. ask for this kind of proof from a new partner whether she ended up dating a man or another woman, and regardless of condom usage.