Page 571 of The Winslow Brothers

Um…yes, please.

The fact that I’m not wearing any panties becomes a stark and heady realization. Of their own accord, my hips fidget in my seat.

“Although, I’m hoping—” he waggles his brows at me “—those last two are something we can explore after we get back from dinner tonight.”

Looks like I’m not the only one with dirty thoughts tonight.

Game on.

“Remy?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I have a little bit of a secret to confess.”

His eyebrows pull together. “A secret?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod, but before I tell him, I scoot my seat closer to his, and I don’t stop until we’re side by side and I’m positive the tablecloth is going to keep mysecretunder wraps from the rest of the restaurant patrons.

Remy watches me the entire time while simultaneously searching my eyes in bewilderment.

“So…my secret,” I whisper toward him and reach up onto the table to grab his hand.

“Yeah. Your secret. Not going to lie, Ria, it’s starting to feel a little serious.”

“Oh, itisserious.Top secretkind of serious.”

He smirks. “And I really hope you’re going to tell me it soon.”

“Remy, I forgot my panties.”

He chokes on his tongue. “I’m sorry, what?”

But I don’t repeat myself. Instead, I grab his hand and put it underneath the tablecloth until it rests on my thigh. And then I glide that hand of his under my dress until his fingers are brushing against me, touching me,right there, where I’m as bare as the day I was born.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, and his eyes lock with mine. “You weren’t kidding.”

I shake my head. “And, actually, I have another secret I want to tell you.”

He swallows. “Damn, Ria. If it’s as good as the last one, I can’t be held liable for what I do.”

“The first time you came over to my apartment to help me with Izzy. Remember that?”

“The day I took you to Jacob’s Pickles?”

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

He’s utterly confused now, silently wondering how I’ve gone from showing him I’ve made my underwear disappear to talking about a day I was barely hanging on by a thread.

While I take his index finger and slide it inside me, I lean forward until my lips are right beside his ear. “When I took a shower that day, I touched myself. Just like this. I got myself off. While thinking about you.”

“Eduardo! Check, please!”

We didn’t eat dinner. Barely touched our glasses of wine. But somehow, Remy managed to get us back to our private beach house in thirty minutes flat.

And let me tell you, the whole ride back was a true lesson in self-restraint. For the entire drive, he wouldn’t stop touching me. Wouldn’t remove his finger from inside me.

It was the sweetest fucking torture I’ve ever experienced in my life.

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