Page 149 of Champagne Fizz

I want to touch him.

I want him to touch me.

Damn, Ireallywant him to touch me.

Exactly.Lady Lada says, like that’s been obvious.

I bite my lip and flip around angrily, so we’re back-to-back. “Simon,” I say sharply, “can you please help me with this clasp.” I lift my hair up off my neck and wait.

“Yes, Kendall,” Simon says, and a moment later his fingers are at my nape. I shiver as he delicately unhooks the snap, his fingers lingering.

“Can you please …?” I ask softly, his fingers not moving, his breath on my neck, my heart hammering. “Please unzip the rest.”

Simon makes a sound I want to devour, but he doesn’t move. A second ago it felt like he couldn’t wait to unzip me, but maybe I misread the moment.

“Simon, can you—” I begin, but then the tug of the zipper starts to descend and I feel the air kiss my back as the dress splits open.

“I need you to know that I didn’t tell Arie about you,” Simon says softly, as he inches the fabric apart. “Connor and I were talking, and Connor guessed that you were a virgin.”

My breath hitches at that word, and his fingers stop.

“I promise you, I didn’t tell him anything. But it turns out, I’m not very good at denying it either because Connor latched onto the idea,” Simon explains, his hands starting again.

Knowing the crew at Flambé, it’s not surprising that they would pry into Simon’s private life. And Connor guessing my lack of experience seems like an actual possibility. Simon’s hands continue to work their way down my spine, exposing my skin.

“And then,” Simon continues, “Arie interrupted us and put two and two together. I didn’t tell her. I swear, that’s your personal—” I can hear the regret in his voice—how upset he is with himself. “I would never tell her,” he repeats, “especially now that I’ve seen how she’ll behave with that information. It’s unforgivable, Kendall. I can’t believe the things she said to you. I’m so angry at her I could scream.”

“Thank you,” I say, as his hands reach my lower back and the base of the zipper.

His hands linger, and part of me wishes he’d slide them beneath the fabric. I step away instead, clutching the front of the black dress as I turn, leaving his hands to dangle in the air between us.

“Thank you for the apology,” I clarify, then I motion for him to turn around.

“Right,” he says under his breath, moving quickly to show me his back and give me some privacy.

I slip the black dress off my body and place it on top of his desk. It feels terrifying and powerful to be standing behind him in only my bra and underwear and higher heels than would be smart when you’re working a wedding.

My skin is on fire with this much air caressing it.

I’mon fire because SimonknowsI’m standing behind him in almost nothing—and he knows what it can do to me.

I’m in Simon’s office, almost naked.

I bite back a moan, despite how much I want to feel its release, despite how much I want to see what that sound does to Simon. But that would put us exactly back where we were a few days ago—in the throes of too much passion, moving too fast, causing him to feel out of control.

I grab the yellow dress from the hanger and slip it over my head, only I can’t hide the whimper the silk pulls from my lips. The fabric is sinful. It slides over my body like the hands I’m not allowed to ask for.

I shiver and the silk trembles.

“You can look,” I whisper, keeping my own eyes closed. I don’t dare look down to see if it fits the way it feels—like I’m a goddess on a cloud, Aphrodite in a silk toga, perky and proud.

Simon groans and everything I fear about this dress is confirmed.

“You can’t make a sound like that,” I admonish. “Especially if you want me to walk into the reception wearing this.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly, and I open my eyes to see him gazing at me adoringly. “That dress saysI’m not afraid of my body. I’m proud.”

I laugh. “Then I’m definitely not wearing it.”

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