Free Fiancee for Hire by Tawna Fenske Page B

before. She was all devil now, her eyes flashing with mischief as she held those beautiful breasts just out of reach.
    “I think you should turn around,” she said.
    “What?”
    “We aren’t married, you know. I don’t think it’s right for you to go staring at my bare breasts.”
    “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He took a step toward her.
    She took a step back and shook her head. “Turn around.”
    Mac blinked, not sure if she was serious or not. She stared right back, her expression equal parts teasing and scolding. He waited a few beats for her to drop her arm, to tell him she was just teasing.
    God, it was hot in this closet.
    “I’m waiting,” she said. “You wanted a sweet, demure, innocent bride who wouldn’t give you any trouble, right?”
    “What?”
    “A modest bride is a happy bride,” Kelli chirped. “I read that in a wedding planning guide from 1958.”
    “Did Anna give it to you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is it too late to fire her?”
    She grinned. “Turn around, Mac.”
    Sensing she wasn’t going to be showing him her breasts anytime soon, he grumbled something unintelligible and turned around. He was facing the closet door now, staring out into the bedroom with its dark wood furniture and modern art and that big, sprawling, massive bed where he’d sincerely love to toss Kelli and fuck her senseless.
    “What do you think?” she purred, her lips so close to his ear that he jumped. How the hell had she crept up on him?
    He started to turn, but her hands cupped his shoulders, holding him in place. That’s when he noticed what was pressed warmly low against his bare back. Those naked, soft breasts pushed against him, teasing and warm against his spine. She moved with slow deliberateness, grazing the hollow of his back with her nipples. He could feel them firm on his flesh, and he groaned aloud. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration that he couldn’t touch her, or pleasure that she was touching him. Did it matter?
    She brushed her breasts from one side of his back to the other, still teasing. Heat and friction made her nipples skitter slightly, flesh on flesh, softness against hardness. He ached to touch her. To see her.
    But at least he could feel her. Her breasts moved against him, pressing upward, moving in slow circles. Her nipples were hard and tight against the columns of muscle running up each side of his spine.
    “I like your freckles,” she breathed, planting a soft kiss on one shoulder blade. “I wouldn’t have pictured you as a man with freckles. You hide things well.”
    She laughed then, and brushed one fingertip over the front of his trousers. He groaned, and she laughed again. “Well, maybe not all things.”
    She went back to teasing him, hands on his shoulders, breasts moving soft and lush against his back. He felt her eyelashes tickle his flesh as she planted another kiss on his left shoulder blade, then the right.
    It dawned on Mac this was as much a tease for her as it was for him. Her hands slid away from his shoulders, and he tried to turn, to seize control of the situation. She stopped him, palms pressing hard against his shoulder blades, breasts pushed firmly into the small of his back.
    “Not so fast,” she whispered. “I’m just testing this out.”
    “Testing what out?”
    “How it would feel to be braless. See, I didn’t pack a strapless bra, so I need to make sure this is an acceptable way to spend the evening in mixed company.”
    Mac closed his eyes as she stroked herself over his spine and down. He pictured her bending her knees as she dipped low, her breasts moving just above his belt.
    “I don’t know about mixed company, but it works great here,” he murmured.
    She slid her hands down, moving to cup his ass. Her palms moved against him, fingers massaging—a surgeon’s skilled fingers—and Mac gave another strangled moan as her nipples trailed over the heated patch of skin above his pants.
    Pants that felt entirely too tight at the