“Is The Matrix the only inspiration you had for this?”

She knew what he was asking. “I had a personal request for this one.”

His gaze finally connected with hers. “From someone who wanted you to wear it?”

Was that jealousy she detected in his tone? “From someone who wanted to wear it herself.”

He nodded, and she knew he’d totally dismissed the thought. “Do you have any more?”

“Only one.”

“Am I going to get to see it now?”

“Do you want to?”

“Do you have other designs at home?”

“Yes.”

His lips barely moved but she could tell he was smiling. “Then let’s see the last one.”

She’d saved her favorite for last. Wondered if he’d realize why. The man seemed to be able to read her mind.

As she changed, she drew in a sharp breath as the leather pulled away from her oh-so-sensitive nipples. At least when she drew the shorts down nothing rubbed against her clit. Though she wanted something to.

God, if he didn’t grab her and throw her on a flat surface soon, she swore she’d spontaneously combust.

Which didn’t make a lick of sense considering she’d spent half the past week worrying about losing herself to him.

Of course, she’d spent the rest of it pining after him.

She needed to get out of this circular thinking pattern. It wasn’t helping at all.

Picking up the pieces of the last costume, she smiled. She’d made this one for herself.

The tiny, see-through white blouse gaped open to expose the neon blue bra, barely covered the bottom curve of her breasts, and left her entire midsection exposed. The seven-inch-long, pleated plaid skirt barely brushed her hips at the top and almost covered her ass in the back. The blue thong that matched her bra left her ass exposed but its strings were visible above the skirt’s waistband.

The line of tiny buttons up the side required concentration to work through the holes. Though if you were in a hurry, you really didn’t need to remove the skirt at all.

Damn, she was going to soak through the panties in seconds.

Speaking of which . . . She pulled the thong on first, nearly moaning at the feel of the silk string between her cheeks and against the lips of her pussy. All he’d have to do was touch her and she’d explode.

Next, the bra. The lace felt almost abrasive against her skin, heightening her already burning lust. By the time she’d pulled on the skirt and shirt, she wanted to run back to Tyler and let him rip it all off of her.

She was going to need a shrink by the time this relationship came to an end.

Which she refused to even think about right now.

At the mirror, she gathered her hair into two ponytails over her ears, leaving a few strands to brush her cheeks.

Stepping back, she checked her appearance. And nearly chickened out.

It might actually take more strength for her to walk out to Tyler wearing this than it would to go out naked.

Did she look ridiculous? Would he find her sexy dressed like this? Some men had hang-ups about stuff like this. She didn’t think Tyler was one of them, but how did she know for sure? They didn’t really know each other all that well, did they?

And you’re making excuses because you’re scared. Now or never.

She went to the door and walked through.

* * *

She’d been in there longer than she had for the other costumes and Tyler couldn’t help but let his imagination run a little wild.

He’d been shocked speechless when she’d walked out in that first outfit. Not because he didn’t like it but because he hadn’t expected her to do anything like that.

Obviously, he didn’t know Kate as well as he thought he did.

And he wanted to, so badly he could see it becoming something of a problem in the future.

A future he hadn’t imagined with anyone since he’d lost Mia.

One that—

The door opened and his brain stuttered to a stop for a full thirty seconds.

Holy shit.

He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to breathe without choking.

She looked . . . so fucking hot. And he’d never before been one for the whole naughty schoolgirl thing.

But holy hell, he was beginning to see the appeal.

At least on Kate.

The skirt made her legs look amazingly long and the top and bra accentuated her somewhat meager attributes. Not that he’d ever complain. He was more a big-picture guy than a breast or ass man.

And this picture . . . Christ, put a bullet in him now. He was done.

As she strolled over to stand in front of him, she had one hand on her hip and twirled the end of one ponytail with the other.

All she needed was a lollipop to suck on and he might as well just melt into a puddle right here.

Then he’d give her something else to suck on.

Very soon.

First, he forced himself to lean back into the couch though he never took his eyes off of her.

Her expression held the perfect mix of boredom and sexuality. He wanted to lay her over his lap and smack her ass. There were paddles down the hall in the Salon. He’d take a few minutes and go get one.

He wouldn’t hurt her. He only wanted to see her skin flush red before he sat her on his dick and fucked her until she went limp in his arms.

Then he’d lay her out on the bed and do her again.

Overkill?

Hell no.

She let him look for a few more seconds before she spoke. “So what do you think?”

He swallowed first, afraid his voice would crack. “I think someone watched a little too much MTV as a teenager.”

He saw her smile just before she affected that bored expression again. The one he wanted to kiss off her face. “I was more into manga. Sailor Moon, HunterX, Naruta. I was very aware of how different I was from most of my friends, and those characters looked like me.”

Yes, he could understand the appeal that would have to a teenager with her heritage.

Her expression turned coy and she looked at him from beneath her lashes again. That look incinerated his remaining control.

Sliding to the edge of the couch, he stood, enjoying how her gaze followed him all the way up.

From this angle, her cleavage looked even deeper and he could see the shadow of her nipples beneath the lace and the almost sheer fabric of that little white blouse.

“So was this modeled after a character in a book?”

“No.” She paused and he heard her clear her throat. “Not really. I just liked the fabrics and the colors.”

“Good choices.” He was having a hard time regulating his breathing. His lungs felt starved for air. “Can I touch you, Kate?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

Bored insolence looked good on her. He swallowed a laugh and circled around to her back.

“I’m not going to take this off.” He stepped closer, until his chest nearly touched her back, gratified to hear her breathing become labored. “I’m going to fuck you with it on.”

She flinched and he cursed himself for his language. He’d have to watch that—

“Maybe”—she flicked her hair over her shoulder, the ends brushing against his jaw—“I’ll be the one fucking you this time.”

Guess he didn’t have to watch his language. Leaning closer, he spoke directly into her ear. “You can try.”

Would she take the bait? He hoped like hell she did.

For several seconds, he simply listened to her breathe and watched the increasing pace of her rising and falling breasts. A man could get hypnotized like that.

Slowly, she turned, though she didn’t put any space between them.

“I’m going to start with your clothes,” she said, “but I don’t want you to do anything unless I tell you to.”

She didn’t ask permission but he swore he heard her silent question. Would he allow her to have the upper hand here?

Yes.

To a certain point.

He’d figure out what that point was when they got there.

He gave a short nod and her smile spread, a hint of sin in her eyes. “I’m going to unbutton your shirt. I want you to stand still.”

Her fingers traced their way up the front of his shirt until they reached the open vee at his neck. She stroked the hollow of his neck with her fingertips before she plucked open the first button.

The button-down shirt was one of his favorites, the cotton faded to a pale blue and soft as butter. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and had left the tails untucked.

Kate worked her way down the row of buttons with an unhurried ease that made the muscles of his stomach tighten. As she neared the bottom, where the tails brushed nearly to his thighs, her knuckles bumped against the thrust of his erection.

He swore he’d have the imprint of his zipper on his dick forever.

When his shirt finally hung open, she didn’t push it off as he’d expected.

She brushed it aside as she scraped her fingernails up and down his abs. The sensation fired his nerve endings but wasn’t hard enough to do more than tease.

And when she leaned forward, he held his breath as she leaned close and flicked her tongue at one taut nipple.

Christ, that felt amazing, like liquid fire. He bit back a groan and clenched his hands into fists, keeping them locked at his sides. Otherwise he would’ve had his hands wrapped in those ponytails.

Later, he’d do just that. But not now. Not when she was driving him to distraction with only her tongue and her fingertips.

“I want you to keep the shirt on, Tyler.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

She gave him a doubtful glance. “I’m going to remind you you said that later.”