Page 89 of Must Have Been Love

“My bag?” I reach down for it. “Why?” Then he takes it and slips something inside.

And I swear my body implodes. I don’t even need to look inside to know. He’s just put his boxers in there.

Hudson Fitzgerald is going commando for me.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Instead I feel this stupid wave of emotion, because I know he did it to calm me. To make me feel more powerful, because that’s what I need right now.

He hands me my bag back, like he’s just slipped a handkerchief in there. “Isn’t she perfect?” he says to Daniel’s son. “I keep pinching myself to check that I’m not dreaming.”

I look at his face. There’s no hint of malice or humor there. He’s deadly serious. He’s looking at me like he’s the luckiest man in the world.

And I have his underwear in my bag.

This man is so getting the best sex of his life tonight.

The lawyer and his wife are looking at me again, but this time like they’re trying to work me out, not trying to work out what college I went to.

“I’m having a great time,” I tell Hudson. Because suddenly I am. I have his boxers, he has my heart. It’s almost a fair exchange.

“Good.” He turns and walks away, and I watch him with my eyes trained on his behind. His boxer-less, perfect ass.

And it’s all mine. At least for tonight.

* * *

We make out like teenagers on our way back to the hotel, and the driver kindly decides to ignore us, discreetly pressing the button to raise the screen between the front and rear seats. Hudson’s hands are in my hair, on my sides, sliding over my legs, and his lips are devouring mine like we’re both starved and haven’t just eaten a three course meal.

It’s only when the passenger door next to Hudson is opened by an equally discreet doorman that I realize we’re at the hotel and have probably been stopped here for a few minutes.

I breathlessly thank the driver as Hudson leans forward to tip him, then we escape into the hotel, managing to keep our hands off each other for as long as it takes to get into the elevator.

When we step inside, the car is empty, and Hudson jabs the button for the penthouse like he hates it. As the doors close he turns to me, his eyes so dark it takes my breath away.

“That fucking dress,” he says. “Do you know how hard it was not to touch you knowing that you’re not wearing any underwear beneath it?”

I smile, because he’s right. It’s impossible to wear a bra with this dress. And of course he has my panties.

He steps forward, his jaw looking almost mean. “I had to put a napkin over my lap so nobody could see me getting hard,” he says, as I step back against the elevator wall. He reaches out, his hands slamming on either side of me. Caging me in.

“That’s the fun part of no underwear,” I tell him. “You get to lose control.”

“I damn nearly got arrested.”

I grin at him. “I’ve always wanted to have sex with a perp.”

He lowers his head until it’s against mine. “You are the most annoying, aggravating, beautiful, funny woman I’ve ever met.”

“And the first to get your underwear?” I ask.

“Without a doubt.”

Oh I love that. I love it so much. “It made me hot looking at you,” I whisper. “Knowing I have them.”

“I want them back after tonight.”

“Oh no.” I shake my head. “I’m framing them and putting them behind the bar like a hunting trophy.”

“I’d laugh, but I believe you,” he says, cupping my face with his hand. “Jesus, I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you right now.”

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