he ordered that next night. “Remove your skirt and sandals and come here.” He was sitting in the overstuffed chair—shirtless, barefoot and with his jeans unbuttoned at the waist. The lights were on over his chair and the straight-backed one. “Drape your clothes over the chair.” She could feel the blood racing through her, the pounding of her heart as she did as he told her. Although her cheeks were burning hot enough to singe her eyebrows, she walked bare-chested to his chair and stood before him without raising her arms to hide her breasts from his view. “You’re learning,” he said. He looked very self-possessed as he reclined in the big wingback—like a high priest waiting for his human sacrifice. His knees were spread wide and his fingers were curled over the end of the chair arms. Completely relaxed, breathing easily, his blue eyes intent on her. Those gorgeous eyes were the only thing moving and they were crawling over her slowly and deliberately lingering on her breasts before moving on again.
