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Dominic nods. “I’ll see you then, dolcezza.”
Chapter 10
Dominic
Itried to stay away.
My resolve lasted for about a week before I couldn’t stand it any longer. It didn’t exactly help when Johnny reported back at the end of each day thatMarina’s Lil’ Dress Shoppehad no more than four customers — sometimes fewer — per day, most of the time leaving empty handed. The fact that I made it a full seven days without bursting into her store to buy every damn dress in sight is, frankly, a testament to my will power.
But now that I find myself here, standing atop a small wooden platform in front of a big tri-fold mirror, I can’t help but wonder if I’m in over my head. Who knew having one’s measurements taken could be so… erotically charged?
Arin places the end of her white measuring tape at the nape of my neck, sliding her hand down my spine to measure the length of my back. She’s stripped me down to the black undershirt I wear beneath all my button downs, but the warmth of her deft fingers makes it feel like we’re touching skin to skin.
“Would you mind relaxing?” she asks gently. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Then why are you clenching?”
Elio, who’s parked himself in a plastic fold-out chair near the front of the shop, cackles. “He just wants to show off his buns of steel,” he teases.
“Didn’t realize you woke up today with a death wish,” I snap at him in Italian.
He puts up his hands in mock surrender.
Arin simply laughs. “So is he supposed to be your bodyguard or something?”
I huff. “More like an assistant.”
Elio snorts. “Puh-lease. You don’t pay me enough to be your assistant.”
Arin laughs yet again, her hands pressed against my back as the sound of her voice floats into my ears. Her touch lingers, as does the warmth her lovely giggle leaves behind.
She continues to work with the utmost diligence, measuring the width of my chest, the length of my arms, the circumference of my neck. She circles around and places herself between me and the mirror, subtly licking her lips before she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist to slip her measuring tape around me. She can barely get her arms around my girth, her face a mere inch away from pressing against my chest.
This is getting dangerous.
Every passing second feels like a test. I can’t tell if she’s dangling herself in front of me or not, but it’s all I can do not to throw her over my shoulder, set her down on her work desk, and give her a repeat performance of five years ago.
I have to wonder if I subconsciously planned this. Now that I think about it, I totally did. I don’t need suits; I have a whole closet full of one of the finest tailors in Little Italy. What I really wanted was to help Arin out without having her owe Lorenzo, and maybe get to have her all to myself. Between running my boss’ loan shark business and making sure his racket runs smoothly, I wanted this one lovely distraction for my own.
“Spread your legs,” she tells me.
I damn near choke. “Excuse me?”
Arin laughs softly, glancing up at me through her long lashes. “Don’t get so excited. I need to measure your inseam.”
And then she gets down on her knees.
The sight of her kneeling before me sends me spiraling. My cock strains against the confines of my pants. I’m suddenly very worried that Arin won’t be able to get the accurate measurement she’s looking for. She starts at my heel and slides her hand up the inside of my leg, inching closer and closer until her hand just grazes the tent of my pants.
Her breath hitches. She’s about to pull away. “Oh, I’m sorry, I—”
My hand shoots down to keep her fingers pressed there. Our eyes lock. I’m a goner the second I see her cheeks turn red and feel her give my cock the gentlest of squeezes.
Fuck being a gentleman. When it comes to her, I’m a damn scoundrel.
“Elio,” I snap. “Out.”
