“You about done?” he asked, then narrowed his eyes on her hips. She was holding her shirttail up to see how the pants fit on her hips and butt. She did look good, and the way heat simmered in his eyes filled her with pleasure at knowing he knew she looked good.
“Does it pass the pocket test?” he asked.
She turned around and raised her brows. “Pocket test?”
He stepped into the changing room and cornered her. She tilted her head back.
“The pocket test,” he murmured, “is all about making sure you have enough space to put your hands…” He slid his hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Heat exploded through her lower body and her breath escaped in a rush. His fingertips dug into her bottom, hauling her against him, until there was no space between them. Her hands pressed against his ches
