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“Uh…I guess not,” I mumbled.
His crooked finger curled under my chin. “Good girl.”
I stood there dumbfounded, while he went to the door and pulled the suitcases in from the hall. He opened mine and his hands ran through my dresses, my panties, and my bras. Finally he lifted a silk, cowl neck dress and beckoned me over. I went and stood obediently while he held it up to my body.
“Perfect,’” he said. “Go put that on.”
I took it and one of my bras and went in the bathroom. When I shut the door, my whole body sagged. My fingers trembled as I slid them down my body and beneath the soaked fabric of my panties.
Fuck him, he knew what he was doing.
Annoyed, I showered, did my makeup, and pulled on the dress. It clung to my body tighter than expected and the little skirt hit the middle of my thigh. I turned in a circle, concerned. It didn’t seem like daywear.
I pushed open the door.
“I think I need something more casual,” I said.
He looked up from where he stood by the bed and his whole body froze. I shifted, biting my lip. Without a word, he crossed the room and circled me. My eyes darted down.
He was rock hard.
“Fuck,” he said, his voice husky. “No, you’re wearing that. What are you worried about? I can fight anyone who disrespects you.”
Blushing, I watched him go to the suitcase and take my black heels out. He moved close and I reached out to take them, but he sank down to his knees. Startled, I kept still as he put them on my feet and fastened the diamond straps.
“So is this…what you usually do for women?” I whispered.
He kissed the side of my knee and straightened. “Not usually.”
It took me until we were halfway down the hall to realize what he’d said. What did that mean? I glanced over at him, but he was moving confidentially down the hall. Walking with his hand threaded through mine, a half step ahead.
I didn’t voice my thoughts.
Downstairs, we moved across the glittering lobby to a private area that overlooked the ocean. The bar was halfway full and the group of men from upstairs were leaning on the far end. I felt their eyes on us as Duran guided me to the side closest to the entrance and lifted me onto the stool.
“Aperol Spritz?” he asked.
I nodded. “Japanese whiskey?”
“Old fashioned actually.”
“Oh? You’re switching it up on me.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get bored.”
He put in our order and sat down, facing me. One foot on the bottom of my stool. His head was cocked and his body draped against the bar.
“Did you feel shame when you woke up on the plane?”
I froze like a deer in headlights. The bartender set our drinks down and I reached for one, taking a gulp to stall for time.
Had I felt shame? I wracked my brain and realized that I hadn’t. For the first time I could remember, I’d done something sexual and I hadn’t been flooded with shame so overwhelming it made me sick.
There was no dread.
I took another large sip. “No, I think I was distracted.”
“That’s good,” he said.
