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“I want you to wear something for me.” She mutters, my brows shooting up at the thought that crosses my dirty mind.
“Is this a kinky something?” I wag my brows at her. “A role play kind of something?” I lean forward, using my forearm to toss my own hair out of my face.
“No.” She shakes her head, her minuscule grin unmistakably reacting to my questions. “You’d be into that?”
I chuckle, a note of seriousness washing over me. “I meant it when I said anything for you, baby. Any fucking thing at all.” I palm her jaw and press a gentle kiss to her soft lips. “Just say the word and you got it.”
A flush rushes up my girl’s chest to her ears as her eyes dart to the mattress beneath us in some sort of shyness I’m not entirely used to seeing on her.
“I want you to wear one of my creations.” She whispers, oh so quietly, to the bed. “Is that wrong?” Her eyes dart to mine, becoming erratic. “That’s wrong, I shouldn’t ask you that.” She goes to move away from me but I stop her with both hands to her face.
“Baby.” I press a kiss to her nose and grin. “I’d love to wear an Aria original.” Her eyes search mine for a moment, her thoughts taking her to all the places and reasons why not to do something so extreme. “Dress me like one of your French girls, babe.”
A furrowed brow meets my comment, then a burst of laughter as the words settle into my girl’s overworking brain.
“Damn you with the Titanic reference.” She giggles with a hand to her forehead as I settle back into my seat. “And why the hell are you naked?!”
I shrug. “You didn’t seem to mind about ten minutes ago.” I wink. “Or when I asked you to marry me. Again.” My giddiness plasters to my face as my girl’s flush grows deeper and redder.
So I grab her ankles and pull until she’s under me again.
“Dear god, what have I done.” Her hands run down her face to hide her grin. She’s not fooling me at all with that move, but I’ll let her think she did.
“No take-backsies.” I remind her with a fake seriousness to my headshake. She slaps my bicep with a smile she doesn’t hide from me.
“So,” She pauses, her hands finding my skin and planting against my shoulders. “You’ll wear something of mine? Let me post a pic or two on my website?”
Confused, I grab my girl’s—my fiancée’s—hand and shake my head.
“Aria.” I start when I see the dread filter into her face, her walls starting to build right the fuck back up. “Just a pic or two is not good enough.” I grip her hand when she goes to pull away. “Design the rest of the tour. Plus the award bullshit at the end—something formal.”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand then back to Aria’s fallen face.
“You’ve got about sixteen hours.”
“No way.” Shaking her head, her hair sticking with static clings to the pillowcase. “No fucking way.”
“Yes, way.” I lean back and pull her trembling body into my lap. “Give me what you got now that’ll fit me, and I’ll help with the rest.”
Cradling her to my chest, she blows a hefty breath over my skin.
“Still too fucking sweet.” Aria wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down for a long kiss.
Panting, I lean back with a smirk for my girl. “You got work to do and I got a ring to buy.”
And with another wink, I stand her on her own two feet and slap her ass.
“Let’s go, baby.”
44
ARIA
Iwatch in shock and awe as my fiancé struts across the stage of my laptop, donning the masterpiece of masterpieces I’ve been designing in my head since before I knew I wanted to take a stab at the fashion world with shit I found at fucking thrift stores.
He sings of me—as if that isn’t enough of an ego boost—on stage to forty-six thousand fans.
That’s right … 46,000.
