Page 89 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell (Rock Canyon, Idaho 7)

“Nope. Nope.” He took her iPad and set it away from her. “There are things I am willing to try, but this is not one of them.”

Gracie climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. “You’re being awfully judge-y.”

“I’m not judging. I just don’t want to be a part of your sick fetishes.”

She leaned over and bit his ear. “It’s not a fetish. It is entertainment. A fetish is wanting to tie you to the bed and make you follow my every command.”

Eric’s cock jerked in response to her low, sultry tone. “Now that I’m okay with.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“There is nothing quite like a dramatic exit. And no one knows how to do it better than our favorite barista.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

Two days later, Gracie’s hands were shaking as she put on her mascara. She hated to admit how nervous she was, but considering she was about to attend a huge, black tie party filled with sophisticated people and not one person she knew besides Eric, she was feeling a little queasy. She wasn’t the type to get stage fright, but this was almost overwhelming.

Eric knocked on the door, making her jump.

“You all right in there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second. Just finishing my makeup.”

“Okay, but we need to be out the door in fifteen minutes.”

Gracie rolled her eyes in the mirror, and once her lashes were long, black, and declumped, she stood back and studied her handiwork. Her blonde hair was loose in fat, wild curls, and a black pearl choker adorned her neck. Her dress was a rich green taffeta that hugged her body, plunging between her breasts with a sheer green lace covering her bare skin. The skirt hit mid-thigh with a slightly asymmetrical hem that changed into a sheer vine-embroidered mesh skirt that swung around her legs, stopping at her ankles. She wore six-inch strappy black heels and had a warm black peacoat to go over it.

“You’ll do,” she said to herself, feeling more confident.

After a sheer red gloss was smoothed over her lips, she stepped out of the bathroom…

And gulped.

Eric didn’t look like James Bond in a tux. He looked like a damn sex god from every girl’s fantasy. He stood over by the window, looking out at the city, and she let her gaze trail over him.

When they got back to this room, she was going to enjoy unwrapping him like a Christmas present.

Eric whistled, and her eyes shot back up to meet his.

“Damn.”

Just that single word, spoken in a deep, awed voice, conveyed a thousand compliments, and she smiled. “You too.”

He grinned. “Do you have stilts on? You seem taller.”

She lifted her skirt and turned her ankle. “Six inches puts me at five foot seven. That way, I can look most women in the eye and I don’t feel like a dwarf next to you.”

“Baby, you are the hottest dwarf I’ve ever seen.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. But don’t ever call me dwarf again.”

“I was just repeating what you said.” He prowled over to her, and slipped his arms around her waist. “And for the record, I said hot too.”

“Yeah, keep making jokes and see what it gets you.”

His hand slid down over her rear, and he pressed against her. “I’m hoping it gets us right back here.”

She ran her finger along his smooth jaw and teased, “Play your cards right, and we might not have to wait that long.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak.

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