Bethany had the strangest desire to jump in front of him, wielding the hanger in her hand as a weapon until they all stopped looking at her man. The problem with that was he wasn’t hers, and even if he were, she wouldn’t be able to blame them for staring. Without exaggeration, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and she’d grown up around models in a city that was one of the fashion capitals of the world.
When a guy like that asks you how he looks? You take that opportunity.
So she ignored the rest of them and gave him a thorough onceover.
BD had already left a pair of faded jeans, black boots and a plain black t-shirt at the counter, but he’d said that was for their after-party plans. What he was wearing now was for the wedding. Linen pants the color of hemp clung to his strong thighs in a way that made her own tremble. His thin white shirt was even better, managing to be elegant and pornographic at the same time. She could see the outline of his smoothly sculpted torso beneath it, and knew everyone who looked at him tonight would be imagining him naked.
She found herself wishing a cold front would hit Louisiana, so she’d have an excuse to bundle him up in a snowsuit. As if that would help.
This was BD as an ordinary human. No extra bells and whistles. He was born this way, though she had no idea when or what cosmic confluence had existed in the past to create such a flawless specimen. No wonder his voodoo superpower was orgasms.
He waited patiently, a question in his eyes, and she knew if he could read her mind his ego would grow to unmanageable levels. So she lifted her chin in approval. Barely. “That’ll work.”
The salesclerk’s expression questioned her sanity, but BD just chuckled and preened, as if she’d given him an actual compliment.
“I’m so glad you approve, Blue Eyes. I’ll take it.” He held up one of Ben’s credit cards and waved it enticingly. “And then it will be your turn.”
Oh hell. Why had Allegra sent her shopping with this wicked man while she and Michelle went to the hairdresser’s? And why had she agreed so readily, almost defiantly, when Michelle had hesitated at the idea?
Because she was a grown ass woman, and she could handle herself. Michelle knew that. She’d already proven she could take him down, hadn’t she? Right before she’d stuck her tongue down his throat.
Still, they were shopping. The antithesis of fun. They should be fine, and back to the salon before the girls noticed they were gone. She had this.
Less than a minute later, she had to wonder who was doing the actual handling when BD paid for what he was wearing, grabbed his bag and her hand, and dragged her out of the store without a word.
“You’re going the wrong way,” she informed him breathlessly. “Michelle said the dress shop was—”
“I know what she said. I also know where I’m going. I’ve been in this city much longer than she has,” he reminded her. “I know about places she’s never even heard of.”
She was sure he did. “You’ve never needed clothes before.”
His laugh made her thighs tingle. “Because of what I am? You’d be surprised what some people find arousing, Blue Eyes.”
Him. People found him arousing from the sheer number of double takes he was receiving. Women and men.
“It’s a good thing you aren’t usually visible,” she grumbled under her breath. “You’d be mobbed every time you had to pick up your groceries.”
“I think I heard a compliment,” he said, amusement still lingering in his voice. “You aren’t going to ask? People usually want to know what other people find arousing.”
“I’m not big on gossip. And I can’t imagine that you’d want to talk about work on your one day off.”
He slowed his steps, his thumb caressing her wrist thoughtfully. “I’ve never thought of it as work. It’s always been who I am. But you’re right. I don’t want to talk about anyone else’s proclivities at the moment. You’re the one who interests me. Tell me about these dreams.”
She tried to tug her hand away but he wouldn’t allow it. He was still pretending he didn’t know? Fine. “There’s a man Isabel talks about. She seems to be in an illicit relationship with him.”
“Marcel,” he said with a nod. “You said his name before you kissed me.”
“Right.” She was glad she didn’t have to look him in the eye at the moment. “Isabel calls him M, but in my dreams, that’s his name.”
“He makes love to you.” It wasn’t a question.
“You make—I mean, he looks exactly like you, so after we found you in the cemetery and Michelle told me what you were, I assumed it was you.”
His fingers tightened almost painfully on hers, but he still didn’t look down at her. “I’ll admit, if I’d known you existed before this morning, I would have been by sooner. But my style is more straightforward as a rule. Why sneak into your subconscious as another, when I’m more than temptation enough as I am?”
Arrogant. But it had a definite ring of truth. “The other option is I’m psychic and I saw you coming. I’ve always wanted to be.”
He smirked. “You’re not. Because I’m not, and I saw something when you kissed me as well.”
She frowned. “You did?”
He nodded sharply. “Someone might be playing. The Loa do enjoy their games. The best thing to do is ignore it. Nothing is going to disrupt this day.”
Bethany looked around, thoroughly lost. “Where is it you’re trying to take me?”
“I’m trying to take you to bed so I can explore every inch of you with my tongue, but I thought we’d go shopping first.”
She took a steadying breath at the graphic visual. “I hate shopping.”
“All women love shopping.”
Bethany snorted. “That’s such a guy thing to say. Declarative, a little sexist and a lot wrong. I thought you were an expert on women, BD.”
“So did I,” he said under his breath.
“I shop online for things I need, sure. And I enjoy shopping for other people, just not for myself.”
“Why?”
There was no harm in honesty. “I don’t like trying things on, and I hate dressing rooms, especially the harsh lighting and realistic mirrors. I’d rather live in ignorance of my wobbly backside. I can’t see it, so I don’t have to think about it.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned his head to snare her gaze. “There is nothing wrong with your backside, Blue Eyes. On that, I am an expert.”
“Mirrors don’t lie,” she quipped.
His amber eyes sparked with irritation. “You’re mistaken. They reflect what you see, and what you see isn’t always what’s real. It won’t tell you what a man sees when he looks at you. What I see. So when you’re trying on the dress you don’t want to shop for, you won’t trust the mirrors. You’ll trust me instead.”
He tilted his head up at a sign that bore a picture of what looked suspiciously like a corset and nodded. “We’re here.”
She tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let her go. “I don’t need underwear, BD. I have underwear. I even brought a few back up pairs. What I need is a dress. A simple dress. A comfortable, loose-fitting dress that says, go ahead and fill your plate, you’re not in the wedding party and no one will notice.”
He snorted. “You do like to hide, I know. But you’re in New Orleans and you’re with me. Tonight isn’t the night for camouflage. And what is it they say? What is underneath is the most important thing.” He opened the glass door and practically threw her inside.
“Careful now, Tarzan, my arm likes being attached to my body,” she muttered grumpily. “And that saying is about personalities, not thongs.”
“May I help—oh my.”
Bethany rolled her eyes.
“Good afternoon, sir. What can I do to you today? For you. I meant for you, of course.” The tall, stunning woman with short, natural curls and flawless dark skin was obviously knocked breathless at the sight of him.
Join the club, lady. Now back off.
Flutter, for God’s sake.
“I have come to find the perfect undergarments for this gorgeous creature.” He tugged Bethany closer, his arm curving around her shoulders. His body was so warm. That had to be why she felt flushed.
The woman looked her up and down, her smile dimming as she pointed to the far corner. “She should find something in her size over there.”
Reason number two hundred and twenty-three why books were better than people: The jealous, pretty chicks always got taught a valuable lesson in the end.
“Come on, Blue Eyes. I need to see you in lace and silk.” His voice was low and intimate, making her forget her irritation.
She walked directly to her normal cotton panties and bras automatically, thinking she might go a little wild and get a matching set in purple or blue, when he tapped her on the shoulder.
“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, Bethany?”
“Buying underwear?” Duh.
He made a face at the pile of cotton. “Those are not for you. I already have everything you’ll need.”
“I’ll bet you do.” The saleswoman must have moved in when Bethany wasn’t looking. The innuendo-laced comment made her fists clench.
Did this lady want a knuckle-sandwich? Because she could deliver.
BD sent the woman an innocuous smile. “Do you have a private dressing room?”
Sales-jerk batted her eyes at him suggestively. “Right through those curtains. Our rooms all have locks for guaranteed privacy. Do you, um, want me to show you?”
I’m right here, Bethany felt like shouting. Usually she was fine with being invisible, but this was ridiculous. A sexy man was choosing her underwear and he was still being hit on by another woman.
There was a line.
“You are as gracious as you are lovely, cher. Which is why I know you’ll understand that my Bethany is shy, and I am very particular about what touches her skin.”
My Bethany.
“I plan to spoil her and spend large amounts of money here, so I hope you won’t disturb us until we are fully satisfied with our purchases.” He turned away from her without a backward glance, leaving the borrowed credit card in her hand as they walked around her and disappeared behind the curtain.
Okay, that shocked look soothed her ego a bit.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any special abilities today.”
His lips twitched. “People appreciate manners, love.”
“Manners,” she huffed. “That’s not what she was appreciating.”
He led her inside the small mirrored cubicle, and she flinched as he shut the door. “Take off your clothes.”
Her eyes widened and she looked around the small room nervously. Exactly what she needed—a three-sixty view of her standing beside her very own Loa centerfold.
“We aren’t really going to sit here trying on underwear, right?” she whispered. “We’re kind of on a time crunch. I-I mean with the wedding and all.”
He sat down on the bench behind her, gathering the black lace he’d brought in his hands as he met her gaze in the reflection. “Oh, but we are. I seem to recall a certain feisty blue-eyed bombshell wondering about pretty men and lace panties.”
She bit her lip. “I was really hoping you’d forgotten about that.”
He reached for her hips and turned her toward him. “Not one single word. It made it impossible for me not to think about you in nothing but lace. Take off your clothes, Bethany.” She hesitated and his smile faded, his eyes darkening with need. “Please, Blue Eyes.”
One day. What did she have to lose?
Bethany took a deep breath and pulled off her t-shirt, revealing her comfortable, but ugly-as-sin white bra. Bone Daddy licked his lips and she hesitated on the elastic band of the black stretch pants she’d thrown on for quick-change ease. Nothing like getting trapped in tight jeans in a dressing room.
“Those pants have been torturing me. Clinging to your ass, your pussy as you walked. I wanted to fight every man that saw you in them.”
Really? “They’re yoga pants, BD. I’m sure you’ve seen them before. They’re very comfortable.”
His focus between her thighs made her shiver. “Take them off and let me see what they’ve been tempting me with.”
“A little bossy, aren’t you, Mr. Manners?” But she slipped out of her tennis shoes and slid out of her pants.
“You like it.” She glanced up at Bone Daddy’s harsh whisper, but his gaze had shifted over her shoulder to study the mirror behind her. The one that showed a brightly lit, unvarnished view of her not insubstantial ass.
She stood up quickly. “This wasn’t a good idea. Let’s just buy those, I’ll find a dress, and we can go home.”
He spread his legs, adjusting his erection in a way that should have been crude, but instead stole her breath. “The rest, Beth. Take off the rest.”
There was nothing but desire in his expression. Desire for her. It gave her the courage to reach behind her, sliding the bra, with the attached locket, onto the floor beside her pants.
“Magnificent.”
She looked up at the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. “You’re honest, remember? I’m sure you’ve seen better.”
“I believe you need a lesson, Blue Eyes. You don’t seem to know sexy when you see it.”
He was wrong. Sexy was sitting right in front of her, studying every curve and imperfection of her body with lust in his eyes.
“My Aunt Sally was one of the highest paid models around before she had to give it up to take me in. She started her own agency, and sexy was her stock and trade. Before I got to high school I knew more about facial symmetry, body measurements, and what heels can do for your calves than I ever wanted to.”
For a while she’d tried to make Bethany care about shoes and clothes and waistlines as much as she did, but it was a lost cause. She was too introverted and cerebral. Too awkward, her aunt told her time and again.
She didn’t care. It meant she had more time alone, more time to read and reread the dusty old books her father had loved. She walked on her treadmill every day, so she wasn’t weak, despite her sedentary lifestyle. But she never fooled herself into believing she was something she wasn’t.
She wouldn’t let him fool her either.
“Turn around and look in the mirror.”
Bethany obeyed silently, part of her wondering why she’d shared so much with him. Did he feel safe because he was so temporary? Like some seductive, immortal confessional?
Maybe you trust him.
Wouldn’t that make her foolish?
As the seconds stretched, she covered her breasts with her hands and stood awkwardly in her white undies with the stretched out elastic band. Why hadn’t she worn her lucky, pretty panties? Hindsight was a bitch.
She let out an embarrassing sound when two large hands appeared, tugging her underwear down until she was forced to step out of them. His breath was hot and heavy against her lower back, and she bit her lip, a shot of need arcing up her spine.
“I don’t know this aunt of yours, but I believe I’m far more qualified than either of you when it comes to the subject of sex.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“The bustle, the corset, the string bikini; women have always twisted themselves in knots to conform to the current idea of beauty. To be desirable to others. To be considered attractive according to someone else’s standards. I’ve seen how industries and fortunes were built on this premise. But it’s all an illusion.”
Still kneeling behind her, he lifted her foot to slide one leg through the black lace.
Her heart was racing, her breath growing shallow as he slowly covered her, his fingertips caressing her skin as he went. When the panties were on, he reached behind him for the matching demi-cup bra.
He stood and, like a child she opened her arms, allowing him to dress her.
“If what you wear feels good, and caresses your skin in a way that reminds you of a lover’s touch, that is sexy. If you can look at your own body, appreciate it for what it can do for you and how it responds to the right person…”
He closed the rosette clasp, his arms around her, body pressed firmly against her back. He pushed her braid to the side, draping it over one shoulder, placing his chin on the other. “Look at yourself, Bethany. See what I see.”
The bra made her breasts look bigger, rounder. Her nipples were hard with arousal and poking through the black lace, the color giving her skin a creamy luster. His hands covered her, fingers circling her nipples until they ached.
“If you weren’t the Love Doctor Loa, you could make a living selling clothes,” she offered breathlessly. “I mean it. I’m not sure what you’re seeing, but I’ll never look at bras the same way again.”
His laugh was short and surprised. “You are a puzzle, Bethany. One I plan to thoroughly enjoy solving. Now stop distracting me and keep your eyes on that mirror.”
He caressed her sides, her hips, and traced the high cut of the underwear that seemed to make her legs look longer, sleeker. She watched, riveted, as one hand slipped beneath the lace to cup her damp curls.
“Oh God.”
“That is sexy,” he growled against her skin. “How wet I can make you. How hard I get every time I’m around you.”
He ground against her and she moaned as his thick erection pressed between the cheeks of her ass.
His talented fingers worked beneath the fabric, touching her in a way she’d never experienced or knew she needed. He knew when to be rough, and where she was sensitive. He knew that teasing her entrance with quick dips and firm strokes would wind her up until she was ready to pop. He’d barely gotten started and she was close to coming harder than she’d thought possible. “You’re so good at this.”
“I know.” He rolled her clit between his fingers. “Are you watching? Do you see that passionate woman fucking my fingers? Responsive and nearly hungry as I am. You can hide what you are from everyone else, but never from me.”
Undo Me (Bone Daddy Book 3) Page 7