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She sucked in a harsh breath. “Anyone who comes up here could see.”
They could, except he’d made sure they would not be disturbed, and the store surveillance cameras had been turned off. “No one is going to see us.” He reached for the tie on her robe and undid it, letting the garment open, revealing her throat, the center of her chest, her sternum, belly and pussy. “You’re beautiful.”
She was flushed, and a pulse fluttered in her neck. “It’s very convenient you think so.”
He knew a lot of beautiful women and Teela would be aware of that. “I’m not the first to tell you your body is lovely.” It simply wasn’t possible some guy hadn’t made a fool of himself over her.
“I’m having a moment where I’m wondering how I got here.” She pulled the robe closed. “After-hours shopping with the Sexiest Man Alive.”
Ugh, that stupid magazine title. “If memory serves me, there was an apocalypse and I rescued you from being swept away.”
“You promised me towels.”
“By which I think you mean kisses.”
“By which I mean hot sex.”
“Ah.” He grinned. I like you, Teela Carpenter. “We’ll get to the hot sex portion of tonight’s entertainment. This is the building suspense part of our attraction.” He backed off, enjoying her incredulous expression, returning to the loun
ge. He’d been moments off pushing the robe off her shoulders and devouring her against a changeroom wall, which is likely what she expected him to do.
Never let it be said he played to type.
She faced away, but from where he sat he could see her in the mirror. In a show of courage, she dropped the robe, let it pool on the floor, staring at her reflection, at him staring at her. Her breasts were full and soft, tipped with large dusky-pink areola and raspberry nipples, raised and incredibly lickable. He’d taste their sweetness soon. As she lifted the first dress over her head, he sucked the champagne-soaked strawberry into his mouth, poor substitute, and went back to her side, feeding it to her in a kiss that made her laugh. Neither of them liked the first dress. It went back on a hanger.
From the lounge, he watched her try four more dresses. Each time she undressed for him she was a little less self-conscious, moved a little less stiffly. He liked her body, not model, starlet starved, a real woman’s body, with padded hips and a belly, with the subtle dimples of cellulite, but he learned to read her face and saw the moment she found the dress she liked best.
“That one,” he said. Navy and white. Sleeveless with a boat neck, fitted to the waist and flaring over her hips to her knees. “Your favorite.”
She studied herself in the mirror. “Yes, it’s simple and elegant. Easy to wear. Needs the right underwear.”
“Choose something nice I can strip off you.”
She spun around. “You can’t rip them.”
He feigned disgust. “I would never.” Whatever she chose, he’d pay for two, just in case. The lace stuff could be horribly delicate. “You need shoes too.”
Teela made her way to the shoe display. “I’m pretending this is fine. Totally fine. An Academy Award winning—”
“Two-time.”
She didn’t look at him. “A two-time Academy Award winning actor—”
“And three-time nominee.”
Now she looked at him. “A self-important blowhard is buying me clothing that’s more expensive than anything I own.”
He laughed. She was perfect. “Get the red ones with the four-inch stiletto heel. They’ll make your incredible legs look endless.”
“They really are torture devices. Too high to walk in and not my size.”
He left the lounge, walked into what he’d figured was the stockroom and brought her a size eight. “You just lost a pair of red shoes, these are well-made, and you have to suffer to be glamorous.”
She tried the shoe. “Good guess on the size.”
“I worked ladies’ shoes at Neiman Marcus. You’d be a nine in a ballet flat.”
She gasped. “That’s not in your résumé.”
