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Bridget
Trial Month One
“You’re joking.” I pulled the black vest out of the package, letting it dangle from my fingers like a dirty piece of laundry.
Rhys sipped his coffee and didn’t look up from his newspaper. “I don’t joke about safety.”
“This is a bulletproof vest.”
“I’m aware. I bought it.”
Inhale. Exhale. “Mr. Larsen, please explain why I need a bulletproof vest. Where am I supposed to wear it, class? My next volunteer shift?”
“To protect you against bullets, and sure. If you’d like.”
A muscle twitched beneath my eye. It’d been a month since we agreed to our deal, and I got it. I’d messed up. I never should’ve snuck out with Ava, but she’d been so down about her relationship troubles with Alex and I’d wanted to cheer her up.
Obviously, it had backfired, big time.
The kidnapping incident had thrown a bucket of cold water over my previously rosy outlook on personal safety, and I was committed to acting more responsibly. I hated admitting when Rhys was right because he was such an arrogant ass about it most of the time, but he put his life on the line for me every day. However, he also seemed intent on making me renege on the deal by throwing the most outrageous suggestions my way.
Like a freakin’ bulletproof vest.
“I bought the vest as a just-in-case item,” Rhys said mildly. “Now that you mention it, we should take it for a test spin next time you’re in public.”
Take out the chip, and I’ll do what you say, when you say it, as long as it’s security- related. I promise.
I gritted my teeth. Rhys had taken the chip out, and I didn’t break my promises.
“Fine.” A lightbulb flashed in my head, and a slow smile spread across my face. “I’ll put it on now.”
He finally raised his head, his face dark with suspicion at how easily I’d capitulated. “Where are we going?”
“Shopping.”
If there was one thing Rhys hated, it was accompanying me shopping. It was such a stereotypical male weakness, and I fully intended to exploit it.
My smile widened when his face darkened further.
This is going to be fun.
An hour later, we arrived at the Hazelburg Mall, a four-story mecca of stores I could torture Rhys with. Luckily, it was winter, which meant I could hide most of the vest’s bulk beneath a chunky sweater and coat.
According to Rhys, he’d bought a lighter version for me, but the vest was still hot, heavy, and awkward. I almost regretted my shopping revenge plan, but Rhys’s ferocious scowl made it all worth it…until catastrophe struck.
I was trying on clothes in our dozenth boutique of the day when I got stuck in a dress. I’d accidentally grabbed the wrong size, and the unforgiving material dug into my ribcage while trapping my arms above my head. I couldn’t see, and I could barely move.
“Shit.” I rarely cursed, but the situation called for it. One of my lifelong irrational fears was getting stuck in clothing in a store.
“What’s wrong?” Rhys demanded from outside the dressing room. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” I pinched the sides of the dress and tried pulling it up again, to no avail. “I’m fine.”
Ten minutes later, I was sweating and panting from exertion and the lack of fresh air, and my arms ached from being held up so long.
Shit, shit, shit.
“What the hell is going on in there?” Rhys’s annoyance came through the door, loud and clear. “You’re taking too long.”
I had no choice. I had to ask for help. “Can you call a sales assistant over? I need their help with a, uh, clothing issue.”
There was a long pause. “You’re stuck.”
Flames of embarrassment licked my skin. “Just call someone over. Please.”
“Can’t. One employee left for lunch, and the other is six people deep at the register.” Figured Rhys would be tracking everyone’s movements while he waited for me. “I’ll help.”
If I could see my reflection, I was sure I’d see a mask of horror staring back at me. “No. You can’t come in here!”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m…” Half-naked. Exposed. “Indecent.”
“I’ve seen half-naked women before, princess. Either let me in so I can get you out of whatever jam you’re in, or sit tight for the next hour because that’s how long it’s gonna take the cashier to get through the weekend crowd. They’re moving slower than a turtle on morphine.”
The universe hated me. I was sure of it.
“Fine.” I forced the word out, the flames of embarrassment burning hotter. “Come in.”
The dressing room doors didn’t have locks, and a second later, Rhys’s presence filled the tiny space. Even if I hadn’t heard him enter, I would’ve felt him. He exuded an intense energy that charged every molecule of air until it vibrated with him.
Raw. Masculine. Powerful.
I held my breath as he approached, his boots soft on the linoleum floor. For someone so large, he moved with the grace of a panther.
The dress covered my chest, but my lace panties were on full display, and I tried not to think about how much skin I was showing as Rhys stopped in front of me. He was close enough I could feel the heat radiating from his body and smell his clean, soapy scent.
Tension and silence hummed in equal measure when he gripped the hem of the dress above my head and pulled. It slid up half a centimeter before it stopped again, and I winced when the fabric dug into a fresh section of flesh.
“I’m going to try from the bottom up,” Rhys said, his voice detached and controlled.
Bottom up. Meaning he had to put his hands on my bare skin.
“Okay.” It came out squeakier than I would’ve liked.
Every muscle tensed when he rested his palms on the top of my ribcage. He smoothed his thumbs briefly over the chafed area where the dress had dug into my skin before he hooked his fingers beneath the material as much as he could and inched it up.
I couldn’t hold my breath anymore.
