This is a standalone scene from the next book that I'm working on. As always, I appreciate feedback constructive criticism. Thanks!
****
When Chris entered his apartment, Paige was waiting for him, perched on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, reading a book.
"Hey, baby, I missed you," he said, as he closed the door behind him.
She looked up from the book she was reading and peered at him over her glasses.
Glasses?
She put a finger to her shiny red lips, said, "Shhhhh," and turned back to her book.
Chris's mouth quirked into a grin as he took a moment to really look at her. Paige had her hair up in a slightly disarrayed bun, and in addition to the glasses she was wearing a tight pencil skirt, and hose, and sexy pumps... and a tight cardigan sweater unbuttoned too far with what appeared to be a black lace bra peeking out from underneath.
She heard a sound that could only be described as a soft growl come from Chris, and struggled to keep her stern demeanor while continuing to study her book.
"You look so hot."
"Shhhh!" She repeated her admonishment, and added, "This is a library!" in a whisper with what was supposed to be a harsh glare. It almost succeeded, but Chris was now standing next to her, and his presence was more distracting than she had anticipated. He was warm - she could feel the heat flowing from his body - and his breathing had already picked up.
"Oh," he whispered quietly, his mouth close enough to her neck that she could feel his breath. "I'm sorry," he breathed into her ear. "Can you help me find something?"
Paige sat up, closed her book, and uncrossed her legs.
"Of course, sir," she replied, standing up in a way that accentuated the shortness of her skirt. Chris thought he caught a glimpse of the top of a stocking, but wasn't sure. Just the idea added to the already rapid blood flow to his groin. As did looking down the open front of Paige's sweater as she stood in front of him.
"What are you looking for today?" she asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose.
Chris glanced around his apartment quickly, and replied, "Poetry. British poetry." His voice was rough as he tried to keep to a whisper. "Do you have anything like that?"
"We do," she replied, briefly taking hold of his tie near the knot and then running her fingers down it. "Please follow me."
Paige was standing close enough to him that she brushed the front of his suit pants as she turned, and she smiled to herself when she felt the hard bulge underneath, and heard his quick intake of breath.
Walking slowly, with a sway that emphasized every curve, Paige made her way over to the big bookshelf near the window. She took her time, first reaching up over her head standing on her toes, which pulled the cardigan up and exposed her midriff. Chris was standing close behind her, and ran his hands softly across the exposed skin.