Walking toward him.

Waving.

Smiling.

Happy.

God, he didn’t want to let her down.

He didn’t want to let her go. He was a selfish bastard for wanting to keep her even when he could never give her what she deserved.

She stopped outside the store, her hand reaching toward him, fingering a bit of fabric from his pullover shirt. “Is this what you wore today?”

He eyed her curiously. “Yeah. It’s not only what I wore, it’s also what I’m wearing.”

“It’s what I pictured you in,” she said, her lips curving up.

“You were thinking of me?” he asked, and his heart thumped harder.

“Yes,” she said, nodding to the lingerie store where they’d met up. “Now buy me some panties to replace the ones you ruined yesterday.”

Just hearing the word panties on her lips made him hard. He growled and tugged her in for a quick, searing kiss, her lips parting, her mouth opening as he made contact. He’d never tire of the way she responded to him. Then it hit him. Never. Why the hell was he thinking in absolutes?

He broke the kiss, clasped her hand, and led her into the store. Hetty’s Secret Closet was a high-end lingerie store he’d walked past yesterday. Once inside, Manhattan disappeared, and they were in a pink and white boutique surrounded by silks, satins, and chiffons, by reds, blacks and peaches, and by a lavender scent that was overwhelmingly feminine. Soft music that sounded like Sade or some other sexy songstress piped overhead, and the air-conditioning hummed low, keeping the store cool, not too chilly.

Michelle perused the racks of camisoles, casting sexy eyes at him as she held up different items. He clenched his fists so he wouldn’t pounce on her. He wanted her so much.

A saleswoman walked across the carpet, her steps so soft it was as if she was gliding. She was young, blond and pretty, and he didn’t give a shit how she looked, because his arm was around Michelle’s waist, and she was the only woman he wanted to see in a bra and panties, and out of a bra and panties.

“May I help you find something?” the saleswoman asked.

He didn’t look away from Michelle as he answered. “I want something for this stunning woman I can’t take my eyes off of,” he said, and watched as a red flush spread across Michelle’s cheeks.

“Jack,” she whispered.

“It’s true.”

“A cami? A teddy? A lingerie set?”

“The last one,” Jack said.

“Any particular color?”

He flashed back to the black pair he’d sliced off. The color truly didn’t matter. He wanted to devour her in any color. He wanted to lick her from head to toe, to eat her, to taste every inch of her, whether she wore stripes or polka dots or solids.

“Anything,” he said.

Soon, the saleswoman had selected a white demi-cup bra with matching panties, as well as one in peach, and one in dark blue.