Free Asking for Trouble by Tessa Bailey

resumed their exploration of her body. His mouth claimed hers in a heated kiss as he unzipped her dress, then tugged it over her shoulders and down her hips. His tongue stroked in and out, seeking, teasing.
    After a moment, she tore her lips away. “We don’t speak about tonight, either. Ever again. None of our friends find out. And no jokes about it, Brent. Promise.”
    “Florence, Hayden. Florence.”
    She ducked her head so Brent wouldn’t see her smile, but he was too busy watching her dress fall to the floor, revealing her black lace bra-and-panty set, complete with garter belt and stockings. Her tummy flipped a little when he cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his open mouth. His hot regard felt heavy as it ran the length of her body, pausing at her thighs and between her legs.
    He tucked one finger into the top of her stocking, sliding it back and forth slowly. Hayden felt each movement between her legs as though he were touching her there instead. She grew increasingly damp with each drag of his finger. “I hate these stockings. Don’t ever stop wearing them.”
    Hayden sucked in a breath as his finger slipped around to the back of her thigh. “I-I don’t understand. That makes no sense.”
    His hand traveled higher to cup her behind, fitting her against him. “Every time you cross your legs, I hear that material rub together.” He ran his tongue and teeth down the side of her neck. “Your tight thighs, covered in silk, parting and crossing. Parting and crossing. Only you never leave them open long enough for me to see your pussy. It makes me crazy.”
    She writhed against the door, his provocative words ratcheting her need even higher. “What are you waiting for? An apology?”
    “I have a much better idea.” He grasped her around the waist and deposited her on the bench. The same bench they’d used the night before. She watched, dumbfounded, as he knelt down in front of her, gaze fastened on the juncture of her thighs. “Show me right now. Cross and uncross your legs for me, duchess. I want to see how it looks when there’s no skirt to hide behind.”
    Hayden’s chest felt tight, her skin enflamed. Every nerve ending in her body hummed with dizzying arousal. She obeyed his order simply to witness his reaction. Could do nothing else. The first time she crossed her legs, then slowly parted them, she felt his loud growl of approval deep in her belly, vibrating and heating. The second time she let her stocking-clad thighs cross and uncross, he unzipped his pants and reached inside to stroke himself as he watched her, eyes dark with lust.
    “Very good. Lose the bra and do it again.”
    Trying to keep her breathing steady and failing, Hayden unhooked the clasp between her breasts and let the material fall down her arms. Once again, that low, almost-angry sound emanated from his throat. This time, she moaned in response, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. Of their own volition, her hands rose to palm her breasts, thumbs caressing her peaked nipples. Her body felt hot, shaky. His riveted gaze felt like a touch in itself, moving across her skin, memorizing, devouring.
    Brent’s arm banded around her waist, startling her, so lost she’d been in her own pleasure. He picked her up off the bench and rose. She wrapped her legs around his waist, mouth immediately seeking his for a hot, desperate kiss. One of his hands sank into her hair, angling her head. The other kneaded the flesh of her bottom.
    “Bedroom. Where is it?” he grated against her mouth. “I need to fuck you.”
    She nodded toward the back of the town house, and Brent’s long strides ate up the distance between the semi-dark living room and her bedroom. Halfway there, she forgot to direct him and began nipping and licking his neck until Brent was forced to push her up against the hallway wall outside her bedroom and punish her mouth for distracting him. Finally, he stumbled them into her room, letting her slide down his