Naked Truth

Instead, she was leaning on one elbow on the bar and tugging at Paul’s half-undone tie with the other hand, giggling to beat the band while she contemplated how to cop another feel of his manly chest.

“Thanks. I don’t think anybody’s ever just come out and told me my chest is manly before. And you can cop all the feels you like.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did,” he confirmed, not seeming too bothered by it. His dark blond hair was slightly mussed, and Stella cast her mind back to recall that she had mussed it herself under the guise of pushing it back from his forehead. His hair was thick and curly and silky to the touch. It also smelled incredibly good.

“Damn. I don’t usually drink this much.” She released his tie and picked up her drink, swirling the last few sips in the bottom of the glass.

“What was I saying before?” Paul asked.

“I can’t remember. I was too distracted by your manly chest.” Stella tossed back the last of the drink in one swig.

Paul watched Stella’s pale throat move as she swallowed, trying not to think about her swallowing other things. He marveled at the translucence of her skin. He had always had a thing for redheads, but he’d forgotten just what a perfect example Stella Cooper—no, it was Stella Devlin again now, he reminded himself—was of the type. Even in the low light of the bar, her coppery hair shimmered with spun-gold highlights and he could almost see her every thought express itself on her fair skin. Blushing when she was embarrassed, angry red spots on her cheeks when she was mad, and her green eyes growing vivid and bright in their rose-and-ivory setting when she laughed. He had lost count of the times he had pictured what she might look like in the heat of passion…

“You are going to let me drive you home, right?”