she admitted it looked spectacular, and it felt like heaven next to her skin. But the back...
Goldie eyed the exposure of her skin from nape to waist and swallowed deeply. No way could she carry off wearing her bra with this dress. Heat rushed into her cheeks as she took a deep breath and unclipped her bra. Stuffing it into the vanity unit drawer, she grabbed her boots and tugged them on. Their familiarity brought a touch of balance and, after combing her hands through her hair again, she turned and opened the door.
He was standing at the far side of the bedroom, his surprisingly brooding gaze focused out of the French windows onto the New York night skyline.
Goldie walked in and drew to a halt in the middle of the room, her gaze once again homing in with almost helpless intent on the man who leaned with such loose-limbed indolence against the wall.
His head turned and his gaze hooked on hers before his scrutiny dropped. His sharp inhalation echoed through the room as he took her in, the hands in his pockets visibly bunching as he straightened abruptly.
And stared.
Sexual awareness, now recognised as the potent substance it was, was unstoppable as it lanced her. Intensified just from the look in his eyes.
Beneath the expensive silk and elastic blend heat suffused her, rushing through her body in a maddening dash she had no hope of stopping. But she tried. Heaven help her, she had to. Or she’d lose her mind.
Slicking her tongue desperately over her lower lip, she cleared her throat. ‘I’m ready to hear your proposition now, Mr Aguilar.’
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