AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, the collar for one… you want, like, satin accents, things like that.”
“Oh.” He hesitates, running a hand through his short, dark hair. He licks a small cut on his lip he got from training and then sighs. “I just didn’t want to embarrass you at your posh event. Since you’re always so well-dressed and everything…”
We stare at each other in silence for a second. The moment feels strange, full of a sort of tension I’ve never experienced before. It’s not quite sexual tension, but more like…tendernesstension. Like I want to grab him and hold him and smother him in kisses and caresses.
My heart sinks.
Fuck. I don’tlikehim, do I?
“Look,” I say, looking quickly away from him. “You’re not going to embarrass me, you complete idiot. Let me take your suit with me when I leave—I’ll see what I can do with it.”
“Aw, great!” His face brightens up. “Are you sure that’s not too much work?”
“No.” I turn back to him. “I’ll need your measurements, though, so I can make sure it fits perfectly.”
He nods. “Right. I don’t have a measuring tape, but I’m sure my coach will have one.”
“Or I could do it,” I say, smiling slowly. “I’m going to need you to take your clothes off, though.”
Without hesitation, he pulls his sweatshirt and T-shirt over his head and tosses them on the bed. Then he drops his trousers and kicks them away. He stands in black boxers. For a second, I just watch him, drinking in the sight of him and savouring it like the most delectable wine.
His broad shoulders and chest, padded with muscles. His flat stomach and hard abdomen—not ridiculously defined, because he’s not thin and dehydrated, but thick and strong. His creamy skin and the dusting of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. His thick thighs, his big hands. Everything about him is luxurious with strength, power, and health.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Hm?” I step into him and run my palms over his shoulders, feeling the bulky muscles of his arms, then back up, touching his shoulders, his chest, his stomach.
“Aren’t you going to measure me?” he asks.
“That’s what I’m doing,” I lie, trying to hide my smile.
“Without a measuring tape?”
I look up at him. “Real designers just use their hands.”
“Oh, yeah?” He cradles my face in his hands and smirks down at me. “So does that mean you feel up all your models, huh?”
I poke out my tongue. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“Oh, so fucking jealous.” He nods. “So jealous I could go mad. So jealous I could rip off all your clothes and fuck you so hard you can never leave my bed ever again.”
“You better not rip off my clothes!” I shove him off me. “These trousers alone are worth more than everything you own.”
“Then you better take them off quickly.”
I unbutton my silk shirt and show him what I’m wearing underneath it. “Even my bustier? I made it myself.”
He tilts his head, watching me as I slide my shirt off my shoulders. The bustier underneath it is a creation of sky-blue satin that barely hides my breasts, inspired by the stays of the early nineteenth century. Although the historical reference might be lost on Noah, I can tell he very much appreciates what the garment is doing for me. He licks his lips, his eyes lingering on my breasts, and nods slowly.
“Keep the bustier on, then,” he says. “And the heels. I like you in heels.”
“You just like being stepped on.”
“I like it when you’re mean to me. Makes me hard.”
“That’s because you’re a shameless pervert.”
