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“Keep them all.”
“I don’t need?—”
“Want me to gag you so you can stop telling me what you do and don’t need?”
She shakes her head and unzips the dress, but I see the smile she tries to hide by looking down. I watch as she wriggles out of the dress, thinking that she’ll need more than one of those because it’s the type of dress a man will rip, impatient to get to her breasts.
Next she reaches for a pair of trousers, but I raise my hand. “No. Only dresses.”
“Why?”
So I can have my hand up your pussy whenever I want. “You have gorgeous legs. Show them off.”
Tasha groans as she hugs the trousers to her chest, effectively still hiding her body. “Stop messing with me.”
I stand, walk over, take the trousers from her, and hang them back on the rail. I give the summer dresses a cursory glance. “We’ll keep all of these.”
Her eyes widen. “These dresses start at four thousand dollars a pop.”
“And?” I ignore the consternation on her face and move over to the evening gowns. “Let’s see you in a few of these.”
She shakes her head with a sigh but comes to stand next to me, arms crossed. “Pick one then.”
There’s lots of black, which I ignore. This woman is meant to shine and not blend into the night. “Here.” I hand her a red dress with a deep V-neck and a low back that spills into a full-length skirt.
“Okay.” She doesn’t sound happy. “I’m not sure about the bodice. I’ll need tape for…”
“For?”
Tasha heaves an exasperated groan. “You’ll see. Look and learn.”
I want to chuckle but clamp it down. She steps into the dress, lifts the shoulders into place and then reaches for the back row of buttons. “I need help.”
And the bra has got to go. “Here.” I step behind her and, in the light, button up the row of tiny buttons that guides the eye to her rounded butt and the two dimples right above. It’s a perfect fit, and when I’m done, I trail my fingers over her back to her bra’s clasp and undo it for her. She reaches for a strap to pull it down her arm, but I stop her with a warning squeeze on her hip. Our eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me.”
I’m toying with her now, playing with fire, but the temptation is too big. I hook a fingertip under her bra strap and ease it down her arm, watching her reaction to this simple touch in the mirror. She’s dropped her gaze and goosebumps chase down my fingertip’s trail. When I do the other side, she exhales with strain. I shift to reach the front of the bra and tug until it slips from her body, slightly protesting against the dress’s fabric that kept it in place.
“Ravishing,” I say softly, the moment even more intimate than intended.
Tasha looks up and into the mirror, a blush on her cheeks. “But if I turn even just a bit, a nipple will show,” she murmurs. “Maybe Esta brought tape to hold everything together?”
I look down at her breasts, the focal point of the dress’s cut, showing off the perfect cleavage any man would want to sink into. The wide plunge of the V-neck hardly stays in place, with the shoulders threatening to slip off. I toss the bra onto the sofa and shrug. “Try on the white silk.”
“Matteo.”
I’m at the little buttons again and have them loose in no time. I ease the dress off and she almost stumbles out of it as I force it to the side, ignoring her whimpered protest. She’s naked in front of the mirror, in nothing but those lacy panties.
There’s something heady about being fully clothed in a suit when a beautiful woman is standing so nearly naked in front of you, ready for the taking. Her own need is evident in every signal her body gives. Her eyes begging for more, even if she doesn’t know it. Her need manifesting in that little wet spot staining her panties.
If she were any other woman, I’d be fucking her right now on the sofa, on the kitchen counter, all over the apartment, and making her come until she was spent with pleasure. Until she curled up in my arms and slept because she felt safe and loved and cherished.
But she isn’t any other woman. She’s the one woman I plan to ruin, the daughter of my brother’s killer, my last revenge. The one woman on the whole planet I can’t have.
“Try. On. The. Fucking. White. Silk,” I hiss, my own frustrations getting the better of me. She moves, has the dress off the hanger and over her head, her fingers trembling as she hooks the corset in place and then drags the hidden side zip closed.
I’m back in control of my temper and gently gather her thick strands of hair in a makeshift updo. I stare at her in the mirror, at her flushed cheeks and eyes with tears in the shallows; the creamy skin of her neck, stained by my mark; her breasts, fully covered now but her nipples still hard and begging for attention. “See, kitten, you’re so beautiful, you don’t even need makeup.”
Her arms are hanging limp by her sides, as if she’s given up. “Where are we going? To Sicily? Is that where you’re going to sell me?”
