Page 120 of Lennox Lane

By dessert, she’d decided he was off probation. He’s shown her with actions that he wasn’t running or hiding. He wasn’t pretending desire was easier than tenderness or that tenderness made him weak. He’d planned this entire weekend for her, not around what would impress other people, but around what would let her feel seen, fed, and chosen. Lane was going to lean into him. Into the softness inside her that had been pressing against the bars for months, asking if it was safe to come out now.

By the time they stepped back into the suite, the night outside the windows had turned Winston Hills into a glittering pocket of dark green trees and dim light. Lane kicked off her sandals near the bedroom door and let out a satisfied sigh.

“If I die tonight, tell Knox I forgive him for getting me this full,” she whimpered.

Lennox closed the door behind them. “You’re not dying.”

“That meal was too good to be true.”

His laugh rolled over her, bringing a smile to his lips. Lane turned toward him, still loose from the wine and the glow of being treated with an amount of care she hadn’t figured out how to be casual about.

“So what’s the plan, Robot? Because if I sit down, Provocateur might not happen.”

His eyes moved over her in that dress as if she could sense his eyes in her, she moved her body in a that made him remember that dinner had only been the first indulgence.

“I picked your attire for tonight,” he said.

Lane’s brows lifted. “You did?”

“I did.” His gaze held hers, steady and careful beneath the heat. “Do you mind?”

The question gave Lane goosebumps. Not because he had chosen for her, but he had asked. She stepped closer and rested one hand against his chest, feeling his heart kick beneath her palm.

“No, not at all, Papa,” she answered.

Whenever she called him by a pet name his body roared with need. Lane smiled slowly because she knew what she did to him. His erection was growing against her plush midsection.

His eyes darkened, but his voice stayed controlled, barely. “Say that again.”

“You heard me.”

“I did.” His hand slid to her waist. “I want to hear it again.”

Lane tilted her head, letting her gaze drag over him with deliberate sweetness. “Show me what you picked, Papa.”

His jaw flexed and he could see the satisfaction that moved through her was almost better than dessert. Lennox took her hand and led her toward the closet. When he opened the door, a garment bag hung from the inner hook, waiting to be revealed. He unzipped it slowly, then reached inside and pulled out the set.

Lane mewled at the luxury. The lingerie was equal parts elegance and temptation. The bra was sheer black mesh with lush emerald floral embroidery blooming over the cups. The green rich enough that she knew it would glow against her skin. The matching thong mirrored the bra with emerald blossoms climbing across transparent mesh before giving way to silky black fabric in the center. The garter belt looked made for her wide hips with slender satin straps designed to drape down her thighs and wait for stockings to complete the look. Tiny satin bows and gold-toned hardware added just enough detail to make the ensemble feel sexy, feminine, and provocative.

All chosen by him, Lennox had committed her body to memory. The set was refined but sheer enough to invite curiosity. Embroidered enough to feel like wearable art, and so beautifully tailored it looked less like lingerie and more like a secret he’d chosen to wrap her in.

Lane touched the embroidered flowers with the tips of her fingers. “Lennox.”

“Yes, Baby.”

“You bought this for me?”

“Yes, Baby.”

“You knew my size?”

He smirked at the question. “I study you, Lane. You're my favorite work of art. I know every dip and curve.”

“Careful,” she told him as her nipples pebbled at his admission.

“I checked the label on the dress you left at my place months ago,” he said, “Then confirmed with the boutique.”

Lane narrowed her eyes. “Look at you avoiding cyber-sins,” she tittered.