I jump out of my skin when a deep voice asks, “Do you like them?” I was so caught up in admiring the tailor-made outfit, I completely forgot Asher was standing next to me, eyeballing my reaction in silence.
The uneasiness heating my blood makes me want to snap, but the invisible white flag Asher has been waving the past two weeks means I don’t want to cause trouble. Furthermore, I’ve never received such an elaborate gift before. Once my mother passed, thoughtful gift-giving vanished right along with her.
When Asher arches his brow, prompting me to answer, I murmur, “Yes. Very much so.”
My lungs struggle to catch a full breath when he smiles a true and genuine smile. It’s as foreign these days as the giddy butterflies in my stomach. Usually, I’m sick with worry, but I’m reasonably sure these have nothing to do with that. They’re much too low to resemble anything close to panic.
“I’m glad. I didn’t give Velika much to work with, but I think she chose well.”
I don’t know why disappointment is the first thing to hit me from his confession. It’s obvious a man with Asher’s reputation wouldn’t go dress shopping for his chambermaid, but for some inane reason, I preferred believing he did.
I hold my shoulders high with pride when he runs the back of his finger down my cheek. “I failed to adequately describe your color to Velika. I told her the bloom on your cheeks was more crimson than it is. It’s closer to a cherry red than a blood-tinged shade. My mistake. I had only seen your face in ecstasy once before placing my order, so my error could be easily excused if I were looking for an excuse. . .” A smug grin finalizes his reply. He knows as well as I do that the time he pinned me to his door wasn’t the only time my body has betrayed me the past six weeks. It continually betrays me when it comes to him.
Wanting to lessen his cockiness, I stuff the tissue paper back inside the box, then return the lid to its rightful spot. I would unload the dress just as swiftly if it wouldn’t crush its beautiful material. It doesn’t deserve to be mistreated any more than I do.
Needy warmth treks from my nape to between my legs when Asher leans across my body to flick off the lid. He secures the tiny black G-string in his hand before taking a seat to the right of my dress. Even though I can see the demand in his eyes, he spells it out for me. “How about we see if my measurements stack up better than my color proficiencies?”
I nearly argue that I have no reason to dress up, but the mandate that came with his question is unmissable, so arguing would get me nowhere. Asher is not a man who compromises. No matter how risqué our exchanges become, I don’t see that changing. He doesn’t call himself a stubborn bastard for no reason.
Breathing out deeply, I step closer to him. From the shudder of my thighs, you’d swear he hadn’t just seen my naked core. I’m panting and giddy, fighting with all my might not to grin like a loon. It’s an odd combination of emotions, but extremely exciting at the same time. I don’t know why I’m nervous. The dowdy shirts and sweaters Asher switched my clothes with last month are the length of most of the dresses I own, so they’re more than adequate to cover the area thrumming in both anticipation and fear.
I feel Asher’s pulse as rapidly as mine when I flatten my palms on his shoulders to slip my feet into the minuscule scrap of material he is holding open for me. As he glides the thong up my recently shaved legs, an expression crosses his face I haven’t seen before.Intrigue? Confusion? Appeal?I’m not sure which one. It may even be a combination of them all.
Whatever it is, it doubles when his hands slip over the globes of my ass to fix the thong into place. It should feel odd having such a dominant, arrogant man dress me, but for some reason, it doesn’t. I wouldn’t expect any less from Asher. Even when we were young, if he could do it himself, he did, because he knew it reduced the possibility of something being fucked up.
Asher’s breaths fan the heat blazing between my legs when he murmurs, “A perfect fit.” His eyes lock with mine over my erratically panting chest before he stands to his feet. “Next.”
The calluses on his fingers scratch my skin when he fists my shirt to remove it in one swift motion. His eagerness to relieve me of my clothing almost drowns out the hiss of air he sucks in when my breasts fall heavily to my chest. My cami had an built-in bra, so I didn’t see the need for additional support.
Sparks ignite in Asher’s icy eyes when he trails them down my body. “You’re enjoying this nearly as much as when I had my head between your legs.”
He isn’t asking a question. He’s confirming the facts my body is giving him. My nipples are erect and sitting high on my chest, and the sheerness of my thong can’t hide what’s happening a few inches lower. I’m so drenched, not even the cruelness of our exchanges my first two days here can cool the fire raging deep inside me. I’m burning up everywhere—again.
I lick my dry lips, hoping a bit of moisture will aid in the smooth delivery of my lie. “It’s a little chilly in here.”
I don’t want him thinking I’m easy. I chose to be his chambermaid, not his plaything, so our interactions the past two weeks have stepped over what I signed up for. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t want them to end; I just don’t want him to think this is a part of my job description.
The only thing chilly in this room is Asher’s squinted gaze when it makes a liar out of me for the second time in under a second. His prolonged gawk hardens my nipples to a point it is painful, and my aroused scent is stronger now than when I quivered out his name in a breathless moan. I’m incredibly turned on by his dominance. Who wouldn’t be? I have a man with a panty-wetting face and even sexier body dressing me in gifts he purchased specifically for me. I feel like a precious jewel.
My eyes bounce between Asher’s when he warns, “Take this as a lesson. If you hadn’t lied, I would have let you shower before taking you out—”
“We’re going out?”
He continues talking as if I never did, “But now you’ll leave this room smelling likepirozhkisoil. . .and me.” His last two whispered words have my knees pulling together. He misses the traitorous response of my body since he’s too busy barking orders. “Hold your hair out of the way.”
He takes in the way my breasts rise high on my chest when I do as instructed before snagging the bra out of the box and pacing to stand behind me. He fixes the satiny bra with four hooks into place with too much dexterity for a man new to this, causing some of my giddiness to switch to annoyance.
My frustration is quickly abandoned when Asher runs his fingertip over the bumps in my spine. “If only it were summer, then I wouldn’t need to cover you up. Your body was built for marveling; it should be a crime to hide it away.”
If we were having this conversation six weeks ago, I would have been panicked out of my mind that he was glamming me up to sell my virginity to the highest bidder, but there’s something different in his voice now. It has a tone of ownership attached to it, like I mean more to him than just being his property. He could be toying with me, but it seems unlikely. Why dress me in the finest materials only to have another man benefit from his effort? That isnotthe Asher Yury I know. He doesn’t even distribute drugs without first testing the merchandise, so why would women be any different?
“Still, Zariah. I’m barely touching you, yet you’re shaking all over. . .again.” My breathing shortens when he leans in close to my ear to whisper, “And don’t pretend you’re shivering because you’re cold or I’ll tan your ass with my belt.” The goosebumps racing across my skin double in size when he curls his arm around my body to twang my budded nipple through my bra. “Your body betrays your mind as often as your heart does.”
Although I hate the way my body responds to him, I also secretly love it. Our friendship ended right around the time I started to realize why my body responded differently to him than it did other boys. Even when he was teasing me, it bloomed under his touch, whereas it wilted under anyone else’s.
Asher sucks in a ragged breath through his nostrils. “I swear to god, Zariah. If you don’t stop tempting me, you won’t leave this room in one piece.” There’s no malice in his tone, but there is plenty of threat—a threat to overwhelm me. Own me. To wholly destroy me. “We’re already unfinished business, so don’t tempt a man who has no fear of biting into forbidden fruit. You’ll never come out of our exchange intact. . .” —I squeeze my eyes shut, the heat of his gaze too much for me to bear— “. . . as I’ll never stop biting. I’ve always known one taste of you would never be enough. I was right.”
My eyes pop back open when he shifts on his feet to face me. When our gazes clash, he’s not the only one tempted. His eyes are as needy and desperate as mine. They show the boy I once admired. The one who pledged to always keep me safe.
