She gave a moan of disappointment as he stepped back. He loved the fact that she didn’t want him to let her go. Pulling his shirttail from his pants, he sank down into a chair so he could look at her. A small pile of straps and fishnet had fallen in loops about her waist, and her breasts, round and swollen, were so beautiful he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. How could he even have imagined marrying Sharon when he felt like this about Phoebe? His heart had known the truth long before his mind had figured it out.

He lifted his gaze and was jarred by the uncertainty he saw in her expression. Those tiny little furrows between her brows, that hesitation in her manner, were completely at odds with her sinner’s body. Having her look so vulnerable scared him. Some part of him wanted her aggressive and knowing, ready when it was over to raise her sharp-pointed fingernail file to the bedpost and add another slash mark next to his initials. But his heart didn’t want that at all. He smiled to relieve the growing tension between them.

“You could make me a happy man, darlin’, if you’d slide that dress off real slow, so I could see if you’re lyin’ to me about your underwear.”

Her lips parted softly, and her eyes widened as if she had never taken off her clothes for a man in her life. That look of shy innocence combined with her nuclear reactor body nearly undid him.

When she didn’t move, he cocked his head and inquired softly, “You don’t want to do that virgin thing again tonight, do you, honey? Because I’m afraid you’ve put me in the mood for something a little spicier?”

“The virgin thing? Oh, no. No, I—” She clasped the wisps of fabric at her waist and began to peel.

“Not so fast now. Could we sort of pretend—now don’t take this the wrong way because I don’t mean anything disrespectful by it—but could we pretend that I’m planning to leave a hundred-dollar bill on the dresser after this is over, and I’m expecting to get my money’s worth out of this striptease?”

Her smile was a little wobbly at the corners. “What’s underneath this dress is definitely worth more than a hundred dollars.”

“As long as you take American Express, you can name your price.”

She toyed with the dress where it had fallen low on her waist. Although she had slipped her thumbs beneath the fabric as if she were getting ready to peel it down, she wasn’t moving it any lower than her navel. “I thought you were a reformed man. You said you weren’t into kinkiness any more.”

“That was before I saw you in that damned dress.”

“Would you take off your shirt first? I like looking at your chest.”

“You do?” She was hardly the first woman who’d admired his body, but he still felt inexplicably pleased. He tossed his bow tie on the hassock and then his cummerbund. Without taking his eyes from her, he removed his onyx cuff links and slipped off his shirt.