11

Lev

I

  thought I’d be satisfied from last night, but seeing Eliza spin around in flattering designer clothing for an hour has lit a fire in me that can only be put out by her pouty red

lips and the swirl of her tongue.

She seems to know it, too, taking every opportunity to flash her panties when she’s bending over to look at something, or let a nipple slip when she’s showing me a dress she likes.

She’s trying to act coy, but I know it’s in her blood to show off. She’s an artist, a performer, and she loves attention more than she probably realizes.

But she doesn’t have to seek it out from me. I can’t keep my hands off her, and I make that obvious when we slip back into my car and head to dinner.

“Very soft,” I say, slipping my hand under her sparkly black dress and squeezing her thigh.

She sucks in a breath, trying to look like she’s shocked by my behavior. “Right before dinner, Lev?”

“You’re