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was his job, a task he took much pleasure in performing. But not today.
    “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”
    Wild excitement fleeted across her eyes, but her confusion remained.
    She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you want to do it?” she asked, her slightly pointed chin tilted in challenge.
    “Not tonight.”
    Her fingers caressed subtly over her skirt, drawing his gaze to the waist he knew his hands could span.
    “I’m wearing your favorite color,” she whispered, taking a half step toward him, a small smile teasing over her lips, gone as quickly as it arrived.
    “I can see.” His eyes drifted down over the red skirt, red nail polish, and the red platform stilettos. He wondered if the red was repeated underneath. God, he hoped so. His pulse hammered. “Show me,” he commanded, fighting the urge to grab the collar of her top, ripping it open to see for himself.
    Rising, he moved away from her, taking himself, for the moment, out of temptation’s way. He pulled the stack of condoms from his back pocket and dropped them on the bedside table. His jacket and shoes came off next and he settled himself in the middle of the bed. Better keep the rest of his clothes on for now. He dragged in a deep breath to relax his throbbing body. An impossibility, with his rock hard cock shooting urgent “I wanna fuck” messages to his brain.
    “Come on, baby, step it up, would you? I'm hard for you. Harder than I've ever been and you don’t want this to go to waste, do you?” He pointed to his bulging trousers and watched her gaze drop to his crotch. At the evidence of his ungodly erection, a moan escaped her lips. “That’s right, this is all for you. Take your clothes off and come and get it,” he encouraged softly. “That’s why we’re both here, isn’t it?” He ran a hand over his erection and almost caused himself a coronary. A silent curse ripped through his mind.
    What the hell was he doing, taunting them both like this? At this rate, he would pass out before he got the chance to put a finger on her. He watched her and hid his sigh of relief when she hurried out of her black suede coat and dropped it to the floor.
    Then she reached up behind her, one hand wriggling up her back to reach the zipper on her high collared top. The gentleman in him wanted to help, but he curbed the instinct, enjoying her little contortions and the play of her full breasts as her chest heaved with her efforts. It was almost a shame when she got the zipper down. But when she peeled the top up over her head, he remembered - payback was a bitch.
    Her breasts almost spilled out of demi cups of blood red lace, while the barest hint of dusky pink areolas peeked over of the top. God, they were perfect, so fucking perfect, he swallowed a moan. His stomach clenched and the hand next to his thigh fisted on the bed.
    Jesus , would he ever stop wanting this woman? What was it about her that fired up his blood to volcanic levels?
    The top joined the jacket on the floor. She stepped out of the skirt, and then he knew. Her face might be one of an angel’s, but her body would’ve driven even Botticelli mad with desire. Perfectly shaped and expertly formed, the amazing dips and curves made his mouth literally water with yearning. He stared, eyes riveted on the shadow between her thighs, as desire pulsed through him.
    His tongue tingled with the need to taste her, right there.
    “Come here,” he rasped, not caring that his voice came out a dark croak.
    She looked at him from beneath sooty lashes. “I’m still wearing my shoes.” She gestured to them with a fluttery, feminine movement, contrived or unconscious on her part, he wasn’t sure, but designed to drive a man wild. It worked. Her helplessness made him even harder.
    “Leave them on,” he ordered again.
    “Are...are you sure?” Once again, confusion gleamed in her eyes.
    “More than,” he rasped. “Tonight, we're changing things up a bit. Don't worry, you'll love it. Now, come