More curious by the second, he eased onto the edge of the bed. "Tell me what's going on."
"All right." Her tongue slipped over her lips, and the fly of his jeans tightened. In an effort to keep his hands to himself, he fisted the comforter. "I can't tell you, though. I have to show you."
"Show me, then." And leave. She had to leave. Soon.
"Yes," she croaked. "I will." Her trembling worsened as she untied the raincoat...
The material fell to the floor.
Daniel's heart stopped beating, and his brain short-circuited. Dorothea Mathis was naked. And she had more curves than he'd suspected. Generous curves. Gorgeous curves.
Was he drooling? He might be drooling.
She wasn't a living doll, but a 1950s pinup. She had the kind of body other women claimed to abhor but men adored. He adored. A vine with thorns and holly was tattooed around the outside of her left breast, ending in a pink bloom just over her heart.
He wanted to touch. He needed to touch.
A moment of rational thought intruded. Strawberry Valley girls were off-limits... His dad... Disappointment... But...
Dorothea's soft, lush curves deserved to be touched. Though makeup still hid the freckles on her face, the sweet little dots covered the rest of her pale skin. A treasure map for his tongue.
I'll start up top and work my way down.
She had a handful of scars on her abdomen and one of her thighs. Beautiful badges of strength and survival. More paths for his tongue to follow.
With shaking hands, she covered her breasts and the apex of her thighs and, honest-to-God, he almost whimpered. Such bounty should never be covered.
"I want...to sleep with you," she stammered. "One time. Only one time. Afterward, I don't want to speak with you about it. Or about anything. We'll avoid each other for the rest of our lives."
One night of no-strings sex? Yes, please. He wanted her. Here. Now.
For hours and hours...