“It’s completely inappropriate.” Vivian’s eyes dropped back down to stare at Jules’s legs in their burgundy tights. The miniskirt had slid up so high that it just barely managed to cover her nether regions. Any other time, Jules would have adjusted it modestly. Not tonight.

Tonight, she let her thighs part a little. Just a little. Enough to maintain deniability and also enough for Vivian’s nostrils to flare.

“I’ve seen people at Du Jour wear more outrageous stuff than this,” Jules murmured. “All the time.”

Vivian’s hands clenched on Jules’s. “Yes. I know that. What I don’t know is why I’m—I don’t know how—”

Jules freed one hand and touched Vivian’s cheek. Pregnancy had softened the lines of her face. It suits her, Jules thought as she rubbed her thumb over Vivian’s cheekbone. “I don’t know either.” She’d never heard that deep, husky note in her own voice before. “I just know I want you”—she drew out the next two words—“so much.”

Vivian’s eyes closed. She exhaled so deeply it somehow sounded like a plea.

There was only one thing to do after that. Jules leaned in and pressed her lips to Vivian’s softly, tenderly, a gesture that should have been sweet.

Vivian’s breath broke, and sweetness was off the table as she grabbed Jules by both shoulders and leaned in for more.

What was left of Jules’s brain began to dissolve. Kissing Vivian. Kissing Vivian.

Jules had been born to do it, clearly. Nothing else explained why it was so easy to slide one hand into Vivian’s hair and curl her fingers there. Or why it was so simple to put her other hand on Vivian’s knee and squeeze it helplessly. What else was she supposed to do? She had to hold Vivian in place so they could keep kissing. They could never, ever stop.

Vivian’s mouth was hot and so soft. Would the rest of her be just as soft or even softer? How soon could Jules find out? Considering how they were devouring each other, it seemed like it could happen at any moment.

Jules moaned softly.

Vivian’s breath caught in response. A shiver ran through her. An honest-to-God whimper came out of her throat.

“Jesus, Vivian,” she groaned against Vivian’s lips.

Vivian gasped. Then her hands were at Jules’s shoulders again, and this time she was pushing Jules away. “No. Oh, please. Enough, enough.”

Jules pulled back at once, her blood pounding in her temples and her stomach twisting with nerves.

But Vivian didn’t look mad. She had her eyes squeezed shut as if she were desperately trying to pull herself together.

Jules ate up the sight of her flushed skin, her trembling hands, her breasts rising and falling rapidly with her breath.