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“Do you understand?” I repeat.
“Yes, I understand,” she sighs, the words barely audible.
I force myself to let go of her, and she lets out a sigh that could either speak of disappointment or relief—or both.
“It’s just that… I,” she stutters, struggling to find words. “Do I really have to wear these—”
“Yes, you do. And I don’t care what you think about those outfits. I am the one who decides what will serve our purpose and what doesn’t. And for that to work you’ll have to show yourself to me as you try them on, don’t you think?”
Her lips are quivering now and she almost looks as if she’sclose to tears. She flinches when I trail across her right cheek with the tip of my index finger, tracing along the line of her jaw before I place it back under her chin.
“Good girl,” I say—and that praise seems to pull her out of her bewildered state. “Don’t make me spank you.”
Her eyes widen. “Wha—”
“That was meant as a threat, not a promise, you damn little minx,” I hiss—adding a wink. “Looks like I’m going to have my hands full with you.”
She swallows dryly. “Well, it’s you who’s…”
She pauses to cast a look down to my crotch, licking her goddamnlower lip as she lays eyes on me. She really is trying to kill me.
She’s going to pay for that.
“I’ll be good,” she promises, looking back up with an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry.”
“Very good girl,” I say, taking a step back to bring some distance between us. “You’re fucking gorgeous,Katherine. There’s no reason why a girl like you should run around in shabby hippie clothes that reek of poverty. That’s no longer you.”
Her face freezes in an unreadable expression, lips slightly parted and eyes wide with confusion.
“That’s no longer me,” she repeats, speaking to herself more than to me. “That’s... no longer me.”
She lowers her head, her gaze absent and her mouth still forming the words without a voice making them audible. She looks lost, dazed and somewhat sad. Her sudden vulnerability does something to me. The sight of her like this feels like a weird punch to the chest. I feel the need to apologize—but I don’t.
“Thank you,” she says.
I frown at her. “For what?”
She’s smiling now, and there’s a determination in her expression that reminds of the night when I first saw her. That grim conviction of someone who has a plan, a goal. Someone who has something to fight for.
“Doesn’t matter,” she argues, now casting me a somewhat mischievous look. “I’ll do better. You’ll see.”
“I know you will,” I tell her.
I want to kiss her again, to touch her, to rip off that last bit of fabric covering her enticing body and get a better taste of her—but we’re interrupted by the sound of clicking heels, announcing the return of Susan, and I slip out of the dressing room as quickly as possible.
Chapter 14
Logan
“Turn around.”
She obeys, but not without casting me a sour look, before she twirls around, mockingly stretching her arms out to the sides as if she was imitating a dancer. She’s wearing a blackA-line dress with white contrast sleeves. Very proper, almost boringly tame—if the fabric wasn’t flying dangerously high when she twirls around with a little too much ardor.
“I look like an aged preppy school girl,” she comments when she surveys herself in the mirror. She’s either unaware of Susan’s presence or unwilling to hide her aversion in front of her. The woman is standing just a few feet away, discreetbut attentive while she waits for us to reach a decision. She’s not moving a single muscle at Kat’s devaluing remark.
“I like it,” I say. “This is just what we need.”
“Is it?” Kat asks, a skeptical brow raised.
