Page 171 of How to Win the Girl

I can see it as well as I can feel it. He lifts his entire lower half to shimmy out of his jeans, dragging them down his hips despite the fact that I’m weighing him down.

He lifts his pelvis as if I weigh nothing.

And now. He’s only wearing a pair of crisp white boxer briefs—the kind that hug every last inch of him. He looks like an advertisement on a billboard for underwear.

Thick thighs.

Lean muscle.

Tousled hair.

Crooked smile.

Oh boy…I’m in trouble.

I reach around my back, unzipping Stella’s dress, pulling it down inch by inch. Pushing off the cap sleeves, I let them fall down my biceps but hold the front over my breasts so I can maintain a sense of modesty—at least for the next couple of seconds.

Let him sweat it out.

Let him wait before he sees my tits, the one thing on my body I really love.

As far as boobs go, mine are pretty decent.

I used to hate them. First they were too small, then they were too big. I never felt like they fit my body. Droopy without the right bra, never quite symmetrical.

Stop being self-conscious about your boobs, Daisy.

He isn’t going to care—guys like boobs.

Period point blank.

As I continue straddling him, my hands cup his face as I bring my lips down to meet his. I just can’t keep my lips off his! Drake’s hands roam over my back, pulling me closer as we deepen the kiss.

I can’t get enough of him; his taste and the way he makes me feel.

"You know," I say, tracing circles on his chest with my fingertip, "this wasn't exactly what I had planned for tonight." I wasn’t planning on bringing him home, and I hadn’t planned on seducing him—if this is what we’re calling it.

Drake chuckles, his hand playing with the end of my braid. "What, you don't like a little spontaneity?"

"I like it just fine." I grin. "I just didn't expect to end up in bed with you half naked."

"We’re more than half naked. I’m only wearing underwear," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You still have to play catch up.”

I’m still holding my dress over my chest. "You're incorrigible."

"Only with you," he says, pulling me closer for another kiss. “You sure you don’t want help takin’ this all the way off?”

I don’t, but it can’t hurt to let him lend a hand. Men like to be useful, don’t they? At least that’s what Stella told me once when she was dating some construction management major, an alpha male who needed his ego stroked on a regular basis.

“Uh. Sure.”

"Let’s get you out of this then," he says, his fingers deftly pulling the dress up over my rib cage until it’s sliding off my body in a billowy puddle.

I gasp at the sudden coolness of the air against my skin, fighting the urge to cover my bare breasts with my hands.

Let him see them.

This is what we came here for.

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