#FirstUndressing

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. How in the world did I let a stranger talk me into undressing another stranger? In front of a camera? And in the display window of a shop?

Not just any shop, mind you. No, it was the front window of Harrod’s.

I must be out of my mind.

“Right up here, love.” The cameraman/embarrassment pimp held out his hand, helped me up into the display window. Oh, sweet heaven above—there were already people waiting. Watching.

I turned around to escape, and ran into my undressing partner.

Hot doesn’t even begin to describe him. I had to keep swallowing, so drool wouldn’t run down my chin. He smiled, touched my shoulder, and guided me back to the bed. Bed?

“We’re getting into—bed?” My voice rose to an ear splitting squeak by the end of the sentence.

“Didn’t I mention that?” The cameraman grinned at me.

I wanted to punch him.

“That would be a no.”

“If you are uncomfortable with this,” a warm, deep voice came from behind, and sent shivers across my skin. “We can stand down.”

I turned around, and looked into Mr. Hot’s clear blue eyes. As nervous as I was, part of me was dying to see what lay under the loose cotton shirt and worn jeans.

“I’m good,” I whispered.

He smiled, and the knot in my stomach eased. Odd—I’m usually a wreck when faced with a hot, sexy male with intense blue eyes and thick hair that just begs to have my fingers in it…

“—ready?”

I blinked, and his smile widened.

“I—yes, I’m ready.” I hoped that was the answer.

It must have been, since he took my hand and led me to the side of the bed. The side facing the window, and what looked like half the population of London standing just on the other side. Not the way I planned to introduce myself around as a new expat.

All thought of human or electronic eyes staring at me flew out of my head when he slid his hands under the hem of my shirt and pulled it up. I had to remember to breathe, because those big, warm hands were tracing every inch of bare skin on the way up.

“You are more curvy than I expected. Nice,” he muttered, right before he eased the shirt over my head. He had the soft, lyrical accent I remembered from my time in Wales. Beautiful accent, beautiful people. “Quite nice.”

All I had on now were my low slung jeans, and a thin, white lace bra. At least I wore my pretty one, and not a plain cotton bra that did nothing for my—shall we say—less than substantial breasts. The lace gave him something to look at.

He tossed my shirt on the foot of the bed, and stepped back. I guess it was my turn.

My fingers fumbled on the buttons of his shirt. He leaned in, his breath warm on my cheek. “You can pull it off, love. I’ll bend down, since you seem to be a bit shorter.”

I grabbed the hem, enjoying the feel of the cotton, soft and warm from his skin. As promised, he bent from the waist, and I pulled the shirt off in one easy move.

It fell out of my hand when I got my first look at him.

Wide shoulders, strong, defined arms, and—not a six pack. He had a twelve pack, those ab muscles flat but so powerful I could almost feel them move. I wanted to feel them move, under my hands as he—

Whoa. Need to stop right there. Stranger—undressing me in a window. We had to get back to that. I could fantasize about him later.

I nearly jumped out of my jeans when his fingers touched my stomach. “All right?”

“Yeah.”

He unbuttoned the waistband, and slid the zipper down, until my matching—oh, sweet God in heaven. I was wearing the thong.

‘Wait—”

It was too late. He had already peeled the denim off my hips. My bum was right there, framed by white lace, for all of London to see.

“Aren’t you just one surprise after another.”

I swallowed, and forced myself to meet his eyes. He was smiling, and when our eyes met, he winked at me. I wanted to sigh, but I managed to restrain myself.

Oh, God—it was my turn.

I focused on keeping my fingers steady, and slowly unbuttoned his fly. He wore boxers, in a bright blue pattern, with—pineapples?

“You caught me out. I have a strange fondness for eccentric boxers. I found these in Marks and Sparks of all places.”

Marks and Spencer—the friendly neighborhood department store.

“Really? I didn’t think they went that—exotic.”

His laughter calmed my nerves. “Must have been an experiment. I found them in the bargain bin.”

I smiled up at him, and finished unbuttoning his jeans. Then I slid them down his legs, without accidentally hitting against—anything. He held out his hand, helped me stand.

So, there we were, in our underwear, in the display window of Harrod’s, and smiling at each other like idiots.

“I believe we’re supposed to climb into the bed next.”

“Okay.” Now that half of Europe had seen my bum, not that much would faze me anymore.

He crawled under the sheet, and I followed him, into the arms waiting to embrace me. He felt even better than I imagined. Warm, but hard as a rock under all that tanned skin.

“We forgot to introduce ourselves,” he whispered. “I’m Eowyn.”

“Allie,” I whispered back. “It’s nice to meet you, Eowyn.”

“I know it isn’t part of the undressing bit, but would it be all right if I kissed you?”

I wanted to scream “YES!” at him, but I managed to restrain myself. Again.

“That would be nice.”

He smiled—God, what a beautiful smile—and was still smiling when he kissed me.

He tasted like mint, and kissed me like I was the only person who existed, all his focus on me. His arms tightened, until we were wrapped around each other. He eased back, and his hand spread over my hip.

“Why do you hide these gorgeous curves?”

“Where I used to live, anyone over a size two was considered fat. I’m a six—which makes me enormous.”

“I love your sense of humor, Allie. Come out with me, when this is done. I find myself not wanting to say goodbye to you. Not yet.”

“I’d like that.”

He kissed me again, and I felt the promise in that kiss. After a last squeeze, he helped me out of bed. Muffled applause erupted from the street, and we looked at each other. He bent over in a bow, and I curtseyed, holding out an invisible skirt.

We gathered up our clothes, and the cameraman hustled over, all smiles. “That was fab! You can get dressed just the other side of the screen. Thanks again.”

Eowyn held my hand as we stepped down off the ledge, and almost ran into the next couple, standing a few feet apart, looking as nervous as I was when I first agreed to do this.

“You’ll be fine,” I said. “Just smile at each other, and enjoy.”

The girl giggled, and glanced over at the boy. They couldn’t be more than eighteen, and both were adorable.

Eowyn stopped long enough to wrap his arms around me. “Thank you, Allie. I’d like to explore more of this undressing thing, maybe after a nice burger.”

“I’d love that. I’m starving.”

“Thank heaven. If I took out one more woman who picked at her salad and declared she was stuffed, I was going to become a monk.”

“Was that a test?”

He grinned down at me. “Absolutely. And you passed.”

I dressed, not caring if he got glimpses of my bum. He appreciated my curves, and saw all of me, as me. I was thrilled I didn’t have to pretend a tiny salad was a filling meal.

When we finished, Eowyn took my hand. As we left, I heard the cameraman, talking to the teenage couple.

“Right up here, love. No need to be afraid, not with those lovely dimples.”

I leaned against Eowyn, and smiled.

No—there was no need to be afraid.

~*~