She laughed softly. “You are dirty, and you are sophisticated at the same time. I’ve never known a man to say tits and ass and symphony in the same sentence,” she said, and then he heard a sharp intake of breath as he pressed a kiss to her new underwear. He could smell her through the fabric, even through the layers. He wanted to bury his face in her, his lips, his tongue, his cock. He wanted to inhale her scent, to taste her arousal, to feel her flood his tongue. He kissed her harder through her panties, and in seconds her hands were in his hair, gripping strands. Her legs shook. Her nails cut into his skull. He groaned as he kissed her panties a final time, biting her gently through the material, drawing out a sharp gasp from her. Somehow he found the strength to stand up. He pressed his hands against the dressing room wall, caging her in. “Obviously, I’m getting these for you.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re killing me,” he said, as he looped a finger into the waistband, tracing his fingertips across her. “You’re fucking killing me, and I love it.”

“Me too,” she said, her voice feathery and barely there. But he heard every sound in it. The sound of her desire that matched his.

“You’ve become a habit,” he said as he moved to her neck, leaving a soft kiss against the hollow of her throat. He could feel her heart beating fast under her skin. As fast as his. “One I don’t want to break.”

“I don’t want to either,” she said, and he pulled back to look her in the eyes. They were vulnerable, so open to him, like the rest of her. It was so hard for him to hold back. So hard to protect her from him when he wanted her this much. He refocused on the sex. The part of them that was undeniable.

He turned her around so she was looking in the mirror, then looped his arm around her belly, and dipped his hand inside her panties. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes went hazy. “You have no idea how much I want to fuck you with my fingers right now,” he said roughly in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe with his teeth as he glided his fingers across her wet pussy. “I want to slide my fingers inside you and watch your reflection as you come in this dressing room.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, her lips parting on a muffled moan.

Then he stopped, removing his hand from her panties, a task that felt monumental given the way his dick was dying to break free. “But I want to wait. I want to see you at Lincoln Center in a fancy dress, knowing you have on this underwear, and I want to be tortured all night being next to you, thinking about how much I want to be making you come, so by the time I finally do it will be the only thing either of us wants in the world.”