...Speech deserted him as she moved to a vanity table, pulled out the padded bench seat nestled under it, and started removing her clothes—slowly—folding each item and laying it on the bench before moving on to the next.

Good God, she looked as horny as he felt. Unbelievable. For the first time in their lives they were on the same track. What had he done right?

Jacket…blouse…skirt… Lord have mercy.

There she stood in high heels, stockings, and ivory lace garter belt, bra, and panties. The mirror of the vanity table let him ogle her back along with her front. His breathing went ragged. He didn’t remember her as one who wore sexy undies. Of course, he hadn’t seen her undies since they were four years old, so that might account for the difference. It took all his self-control to keep from drooling.

She paused a moment to rake fingers through her chin-length hair, then stepped out of her shoes, unhooked the garters, and stripped off her stockings. First the right, then the left. Mesmerized, he followed the descent of each one from thigh to knee to ankle to toe. Such long, shapely legs. Creamy smooth. Already he could feel them wrapped around his waist.

Hey, let me out of here!

No, not his conscience. That was his cock roaring for release.

Because he’d gone commando this morning, a harsh, metal zipper now chafed taut, sensitive flesh. Glistening with pearls of pre-cum, an engorged head poked up over the top of his low-slung jeans, like a periscope checking the view. He didn’t blame it. The view was spectacular.

His heart pounded as she popped open the front closure of her bra, shrugged it off her shoulders, and let it drop to the bench behind her. Tom’s jaw dropped with it. How could tits that big be that firm? They oughta be licensed as lethal weapons. God knew they were killing him.

She shimmied out of her panties, and he almost went into cardiac arrest.

Holy fucking shit… Except for the lacy scrap of garter belt, she was naked!

Really naked.

Wow, a bare pussy, soft and pink and juicy as a peach—only without the fuzz. A deep-chested, guttural growl rumbled out of him. Lord, how he wanted to suck that peach into his mouth. He just knew it would taste as sweet as it looked.

A hungry man on a hot mission, he closed the gap between them in three quick strides and fell to his knees.

“Wait!” Sally’s open hand landed on his brow, stopping him scant inches short of his mark, and tilting back his head to meet her gaze.

“If we are going to proceed,” she enunciated with care, “we must have rules.”

“Like what?” Tom almost panted the way Monty did. In near agony, he stared up at her beautiful face—even though it was a little difficult to focus on it with her equally beautiful boobs in the line of vision. His nostrils flared at her tantalizing scent…so close, yet still so far.

Rules? Fuck.

After the show she’d just performed, how the hell did she expect him to act?

Her lower lip pushed out in a sexy pout and her eyes narrowed, a woman without mercy. Also a woman who was playing with fire and in danger of being roasted alive, because he wasn’t playing. He’d never taken well to teasing, at least not on the receiving end. If she didn’t watch it, she’d wind up on that end herself, tied to the bed while he gave her a strong dose of her own medicine. Screw the awards luncheon. It would be more rewarding to take extra time screwing Sally.

Something in his expression must have warned her, because, in a sudden breathy rush, she fired off the list, as though fearing if she didn’t get it out quickly, she’d lose the chance. And she was right. Smart girl.

“First, I want to make sure you understand this doesn’t change anything between us. I still hate you. This is a one-time deal, and purely physical.”

“Very physical. So let’s get on with it.”

Her fingers dug into his scalp.

“Second, save for this reciting of the rules, there is to be no talking. One more word out of you, and I walk. Got it?” She tugged his forelock. “Just nod your head yes, Hicks.”

Tom saw her point. Talking always got them in trouble. Okay, okay, anything to move the action forward. He nodded.

“Third—and this is a biggie—we will be careful. I may want kids, but not without marriage and definitely not with you. In other words, your dick comes nowhere near my pussy unless it’s wearing a condom. I hope to God you have some.”

He liked the way she said “some” as opposed to one, and as it happened, he had a pocketful—always did. He’d never been anything even remotely resembling a Boy Scout, but he still believed in being prepared. He nodded again.

“And fourth”—a little tremor passed through her and her voice went hoarse—“if you want to eat me, do it in bed, for chrissakes, where I can lie down. It’s too goddamned uncomfortable to come standing up!”

“Not the way I do it.” He flashed her a wicked grin.

Sally stamped her foot. “You just broke rule number two. Can’t keep your mouth shut for five frigging seconds, can you?”

All huffy indignation, she swung her back on him and bent over to collect her clothes from the velvet-covered bench.

Tom winced. The sight hurt, but it hurt good. A cock-throbbing close display of lush, round ass and rosy slit shining with feminine dew. She couldn’t have presented herself more perfectly for his desire if she’d done it on purpose. And for all he knew, she had.

Another tease?

His patience snapped.