I chuckle low, the sound rough in my chest as I push my limp cock back into my pants. “Don’t wind the beta up too much.” I pull her close, placing a kiss on her pouty mouth. “I get the feeling that one heated look from you could make him burst into flames.”
The Boutique
Myrick
I didn’t thinkRhett was going to actually let us leave the house. But whatever Autry did to him in the living room seemed to have calmed him down. After their…tryst…Rhett spent forty damn minutes lecturing us like we were delinquents. He told us where we were allowed to go, what we were allowed to do, and what he expected from Oli.
To my surprise, the younger alpha didn’t argue. He nodded, stone-faced, and agreed to everything.
It was a very different reaction compared to how standoffish Oli was the other day.
“Can I get you another glass of champagne, Mr. Anderton?” a fresh-faced beta asks, her high ponytail bouncing with every syllable. She’s all smiles and pastels, like a character out of a boutique dream.
Of course, it’s all an act—this place costs a damn fortune. But I still love it here.
We get a private dressing room with mirrors and plushcouches, and endless champagne. And the staff gets a fat commission.
“Yes, please.” I drain my last sip and hand her the flute. “Oli, you want one?” I ask, turning toward the alpha.
He’s by a rack of soft, frilly summer dresses, looking like a soldier dropped into a dollhouse. Surrounded by lace and floral prints, he’s stiff-backed, his arms crossed awkwardly like he's afraid of knocking something over, dressed head to toe in black.
“Champagne?” I offer again, finally catching the alpha’s eye.
He shakes his head. “No, thank you.” Then he returns to standing like an accidental bodyguard in a nursery.
I push off the overstuffed sage-green couch and walk through the private fitting area. It’s alllush. Creamy walls accented with muted pinks and dusty blues, like something out of a luxury day spa. Full-length mirrors stretch along one wall, reflecting every glittery accessory and garment back in a dreamy haze of silk and shimmer. The lighting is soft and forgiving, casting everything in a warm, flattering glow.
Walking across the room, I pause in front of one of the mirrors and tug at my sleeves. I know a suit might be a little much, but I like looking the part when I’m shopping for expensive clothes. The dark gray fabric is sharp and tailored, paired with a crisp pale blue shirt that brings out my eyes—Rhett’s words, not mine. He always says this is one of his favorites. The sleek black belt pulls everything together, clean and intentional.
“Autry?” I make my way to the omega’s changing room and knock lightly. “How’s it going?”
“I think this one’s too small,” she huffs from behind the door. “It won’t zip over my boobs.”
“Let me see.” I try to sound helpful and not like I’m looking for an excuse to gawk at her pretty figure.
Slowly, she opens the door a sliver. Then peeks out, eyes a little wide as she checks to see who all is in here. I’ve noticed her doing this all day. She’s kept her head down, hair hiding her face, like she’s terrified of everyone around us.
The poor thing is scared of her own shadow.
“It’s okay,” I encourage her. “The sales girl stepped out. It’s just me, Charlie, and heaps of pastel clothing.” I purposely leave Oli off the list, not wanting to make her flustered after this morning. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”
I step close as she opens the door, then turns, showing me the dress half-zipped. The bodice hugs her waist perfectly, but the zipper is halted halfway up her back, puckering under her shoulder blades.
“That’s a shame,” I murmur, my fingers skimming along her waist where the fabric clings. “It fits everywhere else like a dream.” I let my fingers linger a second too long, sliding lightly across the dip of her back.Her skin is so soft.
Autry’s breath catches—and when she turns to face me. There's a little color in her cheeks, and I don’t think it’s from the snug leather collar protecting her throat. “I’m so sorry,” she says, biting her lip. “I think it’s going to be a struggle to find anything that will fit right. I have a weird body shape, and I should’ve?—”
I cut her off with a look, stepping closer, making her shift her weight. “Stop it,” I tell her gently. “You have astunningbody. The problem is with the dress, not you.”
Her lips part, surprised.
“All clothes are made for the same generic body type,” I continue, voice dropping lower. “And you, sweetheart, arenotaverage.” My eyes flash just a bit, letting her see how much she affects me.
I step back, motioning toward my own lean frame. “I’m five-foot-ten with the muscle tone of a soggy breadstick.”
Autry laughs—actuallylaughs—and slaps her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle it. “You donot!”
“Ido,” I say firmly. “It took me thirty-eight years to accept that I will never be anything but a skinny beta with a generous alpha and a bank account that saysyesto custom tailoring.” I snap my fingers and point past her, at the dressing room. “Now take that off and let me fetch someone who actually knows how to sew boobs into a dress.”
