![]() ![]() I reminded myself that I was playing the femme fatale. “Turn in place for me.” He was so calm, detached even. When I faced him in my underwear, he casually draped his arms along the back of the sofa. ![]() ![]() I shimmied from my dress, tossing it to a neighboring seat. I never wore lingerie like this, and I felt hypersensitive after my waxing a couple of days ago. My nipples were taut, my panties growing moist. So why was I getting hot stripping for him? I glanced at his big, masculine hands. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell if he liked the view or not. More: A steamy romance read from Baby it’s Cold Outside ![]() Letting my dress hang open like a robe, I gave him a curtained glimpse of my provocative black demi bra and thong set. “Would you like me to take this off, Ruso?” Russian. I played with the sash on the side of my dress. I stepped forward until he had to make room for me, spreading his knees. When he took a seat, I smiled, sidling around in front of him. Then it seemed like curiosity forced him to stride over. Long, anxious moments passed as we stared at each other. When I patted the back cushions, inviting him over, his lips thinned. All the windows and doors were open in the softly lit room. I turned toward the suite’s sitting area. ![]()
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