Page 35 of Head Over Heels

Renna visited the local gymnastics club earlier this afternoon to scope out talent for the university—one of her friends owns the place. She let the kids there know she'll be at the fundraiser event tonight. She says that'll be enough.

I'm picking Florence up from her house at seven.

But when she answers the door, I step back in shock.

She's dressed to the nines in a gorgeous crimson evening gown.

"You like it?" she asks, slowly turning around for me to see the low cut in the back.

I raise an eyebrow. "It's stunning," I say drily, "but it's not exactly appropriate for the evening. I look down at my own gray slacks and blue blouse, then back at her. "Let's see what you've got in your closet. We've got to get you out of this."

She chuckles. "I didn't expect to hear that from you until we got home later." She shakes her head and leads me to her room. Her walk-in closet is huge—it must be half the size of my bedroom. "I still need to look the part of consummate professional," she reminds me.

"You're not there in an official capacity. Remember, this is supposed to be a casual outing for us to support the local community. We don't want everyone's attention on us."

She turns around and stares into my eyes. "The whole purpose of this," she steps toward me, backing me against the wall, "is for people to notice us."

I rest my hands on her hips to keep her from crashing into me. "Yes, Florence. But the way you dress for an event like this isnotthe same way you dress for an event like your charity gala. You can dress up and stand out in a good way without going over the top. This—" My hands slide up her back, fingernails lightly grazing her bare skin. "This will make you stand out in the wrong way."

She steps closer, leaning her body against mine. Her fingers are warm as she caresses my cheek. "You shouldn't touch me like that if you're not going to do something about it," she whispers.

"You like that, do you?" I look into her hungry eyes. I could fall for those eyes if I let myself. I drop my hands to her ass and yank her body hard against mine. "What do you want me to do?" I ask, sliding my thigh between her legs and pressing into her. I rake my nails up her thigh.

"Josie," she growls, her breath coming faster. She rolls her hips against me hard, desperate.

My nails trace along her panty line. "Tell me what you want, Florence." I lick my bottom lip, wondering for the first time what she tastes like.

Her mouth is suddenly on mine, hungry and bruising. "You," she growls against my mouth. "Please."

I pause just long enough to meet her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She pulls the dress over her head, standing in front of me in nothing but a black lace bra and panties.

God.

She's stunning.

The lace is delicate and beautiful, and I take her round breasts in my hands. They're a perfect fit. I lean over, biting roughly through the thin fabric.

"Josie, I want you." She grabs my head, fingers tangling in my hair."Fuck,"she moans as my mouth wraps around her nipple.

"Florence, are you still home?" Marin's voice rings through the open bedroom door. "I thought Josie was picking you up half an hour ago."

Florence closes her eyes. "I'm going to kill her," she mutters.

"We're in the closet," I call. "Florence needed to change, and we're… deciding… on what she's going to wear."

The door swings open. Marin glances at us—Florence half naked, her dress on the floor, my mussed hair—and shakes her head with a chuckle. "I'm glad you answered, or I might've had a heart attack." She hands me three business suits, skirts and all, hanging in their dry cleaner bags. "Be a dear and hang those up for me. I'll leave you to finish."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God." Florence bends down to pick her dress up off the ground and turns away from me. Her hands shake as she fumbles with the hanger.

"Hey." I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. "Do you want to wear a dress or pants?"

"Dress," she answers, taking a shaky breath.

I scan her closet, honing in on the more casual dresses. This woman has a lot of clothes. "This." I spot a velvet burgundy dress. "Casual, chic—and it'll complement me perfectly." I pull it off the hanger and hold it up against her flushed skin.

"You mean you'll complement me," she teases, finding herself again.

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