Page 7 of Business Casual
I don’t know what to do with her easy agreement. Conversations with Nova usually feel like a battlefield where she’s armed with the infinity stones and I’m wearing a bunny suit. Curious, I take a chance and inch my thumb up higher to where her dress dips in the back. I trace bare skin, and a hum catches in the back of her throat, her body lightly pressing into my touch.
I am bewildered.
Also, a little turned on.
Okay, a lot turned on.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
I glance pointedly at where her hand is still toying with my suspender strap. She smiles at me, all predator, and slips her hand from my chest. I should probably be afraid, but I’m too entranced by her fingers playing along the neckline of her dress. It’s like silver ink poured over her skin, clinging to her curves. The cut of it frames the tattoo between her breasts almost perfectly.
She traces it with one manicured finger. “A gentleman would probably tell me he likes my tattoo.”
I clear my throat and stare at it. I can’t seem to drag my eyes away. “I like all your tattoos.”
“But especially this one,” she encourages.
She leans back in the hold of my arms and glances at herself. She has a deep red rose between her breasts, the long stem dipping down her sternum.
I can’t stop looking at it.
I’d like to bite it. Very much.
I drag my attention back to her eyes. It takes me a full minute to figure out where we are in the conversation. Luckily for me, Nova is focused on our footwork and not the length it takes me to reply. “All right,” I snap. Explain yourself.”
She blinks up at me innocently. “Explain what?”
“Why are you flirting with me?”
A faint blush rises on her cheeks. I think I like that more than the rose between her pretty tits.
“You always flirt with me,” she points out.
“And you usually tell me to get lost,” I say with a laugh. “Take, for instance, about three minutes ago. When I had to yell across the dance floor for you.”
She huffs, puffs, and averts her eyes over my shoulder. I laugh again, delighted, the material of her skirt brushing against my suit pants with every shift of our feet. The music feels far away, nothing but me and Nova and the twinkling lights overhead. A flower petal in her hair and her hand in mine.
“Okay, so I was thinking—”
“Whoa.”
“Shut up. Let me finish.”
A thrum of heat pounds once, right at the base of my spine. I love an authoritative woman. My hands flex and release. “Okay.”
She takes a deep breath. “Well. You know I’ve been busy with the tattoo studio. It’s been brought to my attention that I could”—she scratches once at the back of her neck—“relax a little bit.”
She stares at me meaningfully. I stare back. If she wants me to infer something from that, she’s going to need to elaborate.
“Relaxation is great,” I try.
She gets a little line right between her eyebrows. A frown on her pretty lips.
“Do you need a referral for my acupuncturist?” I offer. “Because he’s really…great.” I swear I know more words thangreat.
She blinks at me. “No, Charlie. I’m not asking for your acupuncturist.”
