Perfect for You

into him and pulled his lips down to hers.
    The contact of their mouths sparkled as dark and deep as the rubies, mysterious and full of promise. She settled herself into it, relaxing against him.
    His arms wound around her, holding her securely. His fingers skirted under her wrap, across the bare skin of her back before taking possession of it. She wondered what Greg did to earn the calluses on his hands. It was unexpected for a lawyer to have them. Weren't they supposed to be glorified pen twirlers?
    He broke away from her just enough to mumbled, "What do you have on under this scarf?" He tugged the back of her shawl playfully.
    "Just my dress." She let the wrap slide down her arms.
    He swallowed audibly. "I think I may have a heart attack. Is that a dress, or a weapon to fell men?"
    "Both," she said, grinning. Yes—the money spent on the dress was definitely worth it.

 
Chapter Nineteen
     
     
    Greg had been successful at keeping his cool so far, but when she shrugged her shawl off one shoulder and then the other, letting it drape in the crooks of her arms, he just about lost it.
    She wasn't wearing a bra.
    It was obvious even in the semi-dark of the gem exhibit. Her pointy nipples were clearly outlined under the shimmery white fabric of her dress. He exhaled, trying to catch his breath, but damn .
    Yesterday when he told her to dress formally he hadn't expected to be greeted by this. His fantasies couldn't have conjured up a more erotic vision. Her dress was so thin that the parts it did hide appeared less covered than tantalizingly displayed. He wondered if it was one of those clever dresses that fell apart if he found the one spot where it fastened.
    A man could dream.
    With one finger, he reverently drew a line down her neck to the spot where her neckline ended between her breasts. He watched, fascinated, as her nipples hardened. He imagined his mouth on them, licking them through the gauzy silk until they were visible through the wet fabric.
    He could feast on them for an eternity.
    "You are glorious," he said, giving each word emphasis. He bent down and placed a lingering kiss on her collarbone.
    A discreet cough intruded on their moment. They both turned to find their host back, his eyes carefully averted.
    "Mr. Cavanaugh, shall I open a bottle of champagne and serve the appetizers?"
    "Yes, thank you." Greg kept Freya close to him as they watched their host go through the ceremony of popping the cork.
    Two servers entered wheeling in carts with a variety of hors d'oeuvres. Instead of giving the artful food its due, all Greg could think about was the way Freya felt plastered against the side of his body and how much better she'd feel naked under him. Or over him for that matter—he was hardly going to quibble.
    "Shall we?" He propelled her toward the table. As he speculated, her back was completely bare except for a couple curls trailing past her shoulders. So graceful, it was one long, flawless alabaster line. He touched his lips to the back of her neck as he seated her, grazing his teeth lightly on her smooth skin as he ran a hand along her spine. Unable to resist, he slipped his hand into the side of her dress to brush the curve of her breast.
    At her soft intake of breath he lifted his head to see her looking at him. Her eyes glowed with heat as if she were sizzling from the inside out. All he wanted to do was sweep everything on the table aside, drag her down onto it, and lick every inch of her body.
    The waiters chose that moment to serve them an assortment of appetizers from the selection they brought in. Greg reined in his libido and handed Freya a glass of champagne before taking his seat across from her. Too far away but safer than being next to her.
    He lifted his glass but was momentarily distracted when she crossed her legs, baring a slim ankle circled by that delicate silver chain. He cleared his throat. "To this night's glittering pleasures."
    Her lips slowly curved in amusement. "That was an apt toast." At her first sip of the fine vintage, her eyes closed to bask in the taste. "Good."
    "All a part of the service."
    She watched him over the rim of her glass. "I should have hired you to resuscitate my muse ages ago."
    "Has she been faltering for a long time?"
    "She's been completely MIA. Until recently." Freya shook her head. "Somehow you get her going. I don't understand it."
    Because they fit together so well. But now wasn't the time to point that out. He needed to win her over slowly.