Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,86
been dating movie stars and models. He’s probably never even seen a normal woman with natural boobs. She might need to show him some 70s porn to acclimate him first.
Bennett sat next to her on the couch—not too close, not too far away—holding two glasses of ice-cold white wine. Despite the late hour and gently circulating air from the ceiling fan, the humidity felt extreme. Great. Now my sweat is sweating.
“Your glass of penis, Ms. Reed.” He handed her the drink, and two little dimples puckered beneath the thick black whiskerage coating his angular jaw.
She gave a little half-laugh, half-huff. “Thanks.”
“So,” he said.
She sipped her wine. It tasted like a Sauvignon Blanc with grapefruit undertones. Which only reminded her of her boobs. Her nonsurgically enhanced boobs.
“So.” She bobbed her head awkwardly.
“I’m glad you decided to come.”
“Well,” she sipped her wine again. “I think—I mean—I know if you asked me here, it’s because you really wanted me to be here.” Wow. Can a grown woman possibly be any more awkward?
“May I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Why are you so nervous?”
Oh, hell. Let me count the ways, starting at the top. You have thick dark, wavy hair that is perfect for finger play. You have these really nicely shaped dark brows that make me question my sanity with just one little flick. There’s your face—chiseled jaw. Lips that might’ve actually been stolen from an angel—or devil—of seduction. You have this little scar that runs from your lower lip to your chin, insinuating that you’re not afraid to fuck shit up when the moment calls for it, and your body is six feet and three (or four—haven’t measured) inches of hard, manly ripples—oh yes, it is. Because I’ve seen you half naked and have felt your hard shaft pressing against both sides of my body. Then…well, there’s your enormous, thick cock and when you walk, I just know your arrogant swagger is really the result of you lugging around your huge fucking manhood. There’s your damaged hero complex, the fact you kiss like a champ and…when you look at me with those ridiculously crystalline blue eyes, I feel like you’re staring right into my soul and that you totally get me. And despite totally getting me, you still maybe want me, which blows my fucking mind. Need I go the fuck on?
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You do realize how hard it is, don’t you?”
Her eyes involuntarily moved to his groin, but she caught herself and quickly put them back where they belonged: on his face. “Sure. Yeah. I guess it should be hard. Given what’s coming. R-r-right?”
“It certainly is a lot to fit into one evening.” He nodded and then sipped his wine. “It’s a lot. I mean…a lot.”
It certainly was “a lot.” She’d felt it rub between her ass cheeks, and she’d seen the outline of his erection in his pants. In comparison, the men she’s been with were cocktail wieners or dainty carrots at best.
Yeah. This might hurt. But I so, so want him.
She chugged down her wine and placed the glass on the coffee table. “I’m ready. No matter how big it is, I really want this to happen.”
“Good.” He swallowed down his wine and set the empty glass next to hers. “Because it’s pretty painful.”
She cringed. “Really? I mean, I know it’s big, but I think I can handle it if you’re gentle and move slow. I mean,” she laughed nervously, “don’t come at me all at once. Just ease it in and—”
“Ms. Reed?” He straightened his spine and stared at her with an intensely worried look. “I’m wondering—and please don’t be offended by what I’m about to say—but do you think I invited you here to fuck?”
Uh, yeah! Her eyes went wide. Uh, nooo? She covered the exposed skin on her chest with the lapel of her bathrobe. “Are you saying you didn’t?”
He looked at her and shook his head stiffly from side to side. “No.”
She felt her face turning tomato red. “You mean that—when you said that—you wanted me to come and see and…Oh God. What have we been talking about?”
“Me. The real me. Why I’m here in Bali, and why I’m…” His voice trailed off as she covered her face. She then felt his hand squeeze her arm. “Taylor?”
“I’m so humiliated. I thought that you—never mind.” Hadn’t he asked if she wanted to see what was beneath the suit?
Yeah, bonehead! Metaphorically speaking! Like Superman would ask Lois. She took a breath, lifted her chin, and stood.