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The man was dressed to the nines like he usually was when he went to the office. I, on the other hand, was in a pair of denim shorts that had seen better days and a black tank top with a bleach stain at the bottom left side of the hem. “Should I change?”
“Nope, you look perfect.”
Instead of walking toward the garage where his car was, we went to the backyard and to the pool house. “Malcom?”
“You saw the bed that was delivered?”
“I did.”
“I asked the guys to put these things in here, so we could have the space to choose.”
“Space? To choose? To choose what?” I asked. Mal smiled when he looked back at me, and we didn’t stop until we reached the pool house.
He opened and held the door for me. When I stepped in, my eyes widened.
“What…” I started to say and found myself smiling. “What is all this?” I asked even though it was pretty clear what it was.
“Bedding,” he answered, like it wasn’t obvious. I blinked.
“Wow,” I whispered. The rich really lived differently. “Did you buy all these?” I asked as I walked toward them.
The bedding had been taken out of their packaging and set up in a way to see how the fitted sheets along with the pillow shams and comforter looked together. There were five different sets on display.
“If you don’t like any of them, we can order something else.”
“If I don’t…” I frowned, “Mr.—“
“Are we really going to go back to that?” he cut me off with a challenging stare.
“Malcom,” I corrected. “This is your bed we’re talking about.”
“But what would you pick?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. If this was your bed, which one would you choose?” He nodded and pointed at the fancy-looking bedding displayed on what looked like two long folding tables. I stepped forward. My fingers skimmed the material, and I stopped in my tracks.
“This is so soft,” I whispered, mostly to myself, but I could feel his eyes like a touch. “But it's probably a little too girly for you, huh?” I teased. The bedding was a soft lavender with delicate white flowers and tiny green leaves. It surprised me it was even a choice, but maybe he didn't pick them?
“This feels very you.” I grinned, walking toward the next set. It was dark and foreboding, but when my hands touched the material, they clenched the fabric and my eyes fluttered shut.
Something was wrong with me.
All I could think about was how it would feel to be consumed by him while I lay beneath him, those crazy soft, million-thread-count sheets under my bare overheated skin.
“You seem to like that one,” his voice rasped, and when I opened my eyes, my head swung to check behind me. I could have sworn I’d felt him right there. Instead, he stood exactly where I had left him. His stare almost smoldered.
“They’re nice,” I whispered. “But then again, all of them are.” I pointed. “For you, though, I would definitely pick this one.” My hands stroked the soft material as I tried to bat away the dirty images floating through my head. His bed was huge before, but now it was even bigger. The four of us would fit in it perfectly, and there would be enough room to move about.
“You would, huh?” His lips twitched. “Which would you pick for yourself?” I glanced behind me. “Would it be the white one?” I laughed and shook my head.
“No,” I quickly lied, then winced. “I mean, it’s beautiful and probably my personal favorite but…” I found myself drifting toward it.
My hands touched it, and I had to bite back a moan. How could each set be softer than the last? I didn’t even know fabrics that were so delicately detailed with embroidered flowers in the same white could be that smooth and soft yet lush.
“But what?” Malcom implored. The set was something out of a dream.
“But it’s white.” I sighed sadly. “White gets dirty fast,” I mentioned, pretty sure I was reminding myself of that, and then I made a face. “I would ruin something like this.”
