Page 88 of The Playboy

Me

That’s your only request?

Macon

Text me the address where I can pick you up.

THIRTEEN

Macon

My beautiful Tiny Dancer, I thought as the door opened to Brooklyn’s home.

She walked out to meet me, my stare rising and falling down her body.

“My God, you’re gorgeous.”

She still wore black—a color I assumed, at this point, was her favorite—and she also had on a dress, but this one wasn’t as sexy as what she always wore to the club. Rather than hugging every inch of her torso, it cut low on her chest, pinched her waist, and flared out as it made its way a few inches past her knees. On her feet were sandals, giving her petite frame an extra couple of inches of height.

She smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

When she reached me, I wrapped my arms around her and hauled her up against me. Before she could stop me, I pressed my lips against hers.

Fuck, this was everything I’d been wanting.

Her taste.

Feel.

The way her distinct scents and heat went from her body to mine.

She didn’t pull away or arch in the opposite direction.

What she did was lean into me and part her lips so I could get even more of her lemon flavor.

After a few seconds, I had to force myself to separate our mouths, licking her off me, and I took several deep breaths to calm myself down, my dick relentlessly hard, not softening anytime soon. “Before you get in the car, I have something for you.”

She swiped her fingers across her lips, back and forth, multiple times, like she was processing what had just gone down and the way it made her feel. Once a few seconds passed, her hand dropped, and her brows rose. “You do?”

I took the same hand that had just dropped and led her behind the SUV, waiting for the driver to hit the button that opened the trunk. As the latch lifted, I grabbed the four garment bags lying across the floor, holding them in the air by their metal hangers. “For you.”

“Macon, what is all of that?”

There was too much to unzip and show her, so I answered, “I know I haven’t asked that all-important question yet, but in case you want the interview to happen, I got some things for you to wear to it.”

“What?”

“You said you were certain you had nothing good enough in your closet. I’m sure you do, but in case you don’t, I took care of that problem.”

Her head shook, as though she was trying to knock out the dizziness. “Hold on a second. You went shopping for me?”

I chuckled. “I had someone do that part. I just chose my favorites from the collection she presented. Outfits I would fucking die to see you in.”

“How did you know my size?” Her voice was so low, quiet.

“You’re tiny. It was an easy guess.” With my free hand, I rested those fingers on her cheek. Her skin was already turning red but was now flushing even harder. “Don’t worry, I stuck with mostly black, although you’d look incredible in other colors.”

She glanced from me to the bags, her lips staying open even though nothing was coming out of them. “I … can’t.”

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