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" Interesting outfit.”
Clearly unabashed, she merely glanced down at herself, slicked long-fingered, bloodred-tipped hands over her hips and thighs. Then laughed low in her throat. “I know. It’s a little over the top, isn’t it? But I’ve got a hot date tonight and zero time to go home to change.”
Shock reverberated in his gut and zinged down the nerve rich column of his spinal cord. Taking a hot step forward, he demanded before he could stop himself, “With who?”
She gave him a cool look, clearly wondering what the hell business he thought it was of his. Still, she answered him, which he hadn’t actually expected.
“Eduardo,” she said, drawing the syllables out, her lips caressing them as if they were made of Godiva chocolates. “He’s an—” Cutting herself off, she shook her head. “Well. You don’t give a rat’s rear end who he is.”
“Sure I do,” he forced himself to say in a bored tone, dismayed to discover that part of him was seriously tempted to grab those spandex- wrapped arms and shake the information out of her. "
― Susan Andersen , Playing Dirty (Sisterhood Diaries, #3)
