Did I mention that if her new baby doll pajamas hadn't come with matching panties, he could have seen not only the length of her legs, but also nearly to heaven when she walked? The soft cotton, glancing now and then across the tops of her thighs, was distracting. And her mind was flooded with all those things about him. His smell. His presence. His midnight voice.
The pale green top barely contained her engorged breasts, seducing her further – she was nothing, if not curves. The cool night air kissed her exposed neck and shoulders, making her very aware of how bare she really was. And the dark of her room was enticing. Only the soft glow of the monitor and candlelight illuminated her work. Her supposed work, that is. Because while she was clicking away at the keyboard in an attempt to make a deadline, the words that came most easily were not of the nature to be read by a general audience.
She would have loved nothing more that to be sitting on the couch with him, watching a movie and waiting for it be over. There would be that dreadful, delicious silence before time would indulge her senses. His warm voice would finally engage her in comfortable conversation. Perhaps he would give her a sign. She would move closer, listening intently, and wait. If no sign came, she knew she was not beyond employing shameless flirting tactics to get his interest. Sometimes it came to that. He made her wait. He was infinitely more patient than she, and he knew it.
So did she. In those anxious moments before he took her into his arms - at long last - she was tortured. The demons inside her demanding attention, her sensibilities scarcely managing to keep them under control.
