by Ivy Layne
Aiden overrode my objections, hooking his arm through mine and pulling me into the store. I’d never seen anything like it. The inside was sumptuous and seductive, all velvet curtains and thick carpet, silk and lace everywhere. A saleswoman approached in a tight pink dress, her garters showing clearly beneath the short hem.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her eyes glued to Aiden, quickly taking in his custom tailored suit, the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist. She could smell money, and she looked eager to help him spend it.
I was the subject of her appraising glance a moment later. Her shiny red lips curved in a slow smile. “I have just the thing for you.”
Taking my hand, she led me to the back of the shop, past lingerie like I’d never seen before, straps and buckles and black lace. Bustiers, corsets, barely-there bras and crotchless underwear. Garters and silk in all colors of the rainbow.
I looked back over my shoulder to see Aiden stalking behind us, his eyes taking in all the store had to offer.
The saleswoman stopped at a floor-length silk negligée in deep, smoky lavender. The high neckline, suspended from two delicate silk straps, would leave nothing on display below my collarbones. The back, on the other hand, dipped so low it would expose half of my rear end.
The silk was so fine, so delicate, it would hide almost nothing of the skin it covered. Every contour of my breasts, the peak of my nipples—the silk would mold itself to my body, showing everything it pretended to hide.
I caught sight of the price tag. Over five hundred dollars. I started to object when Aiden said, “Put it in the dressing room.”
The saleswoman nodded. “Certainly, sir. I have a few other things in mind?”
“Let’s see,” Aiden invited. What followed was a deluge of lace and silk. I refused to look at the price tags.
At one point, as he contemplated a bra and thong set of the palest pink lace, I hissed, “You cannot spend over four hundred dollars on underwear, Aiden.”
“I can spend my money on whatever I want, sweetheart.”
The look in his eyes as they moved from the transparent lace to me was so hot I almost bit my tongue before I said, “Well then, you can’t tear them off.”
“Maybe we should just skip the underwear altogether,” he said, so quietly I barely heard him.
I didn’t dignify that comment with a response.
He didn’t try to join me in the dressing room. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
I was relieved.
I was.
I was not the kind of woman who fooled around in the dressing room of a lingerie shop. At least, I never had been before. Aiden did peek, once. I’d barely pulled a short lace slip over my head when he rapped his knuckles on the dark wood trim around the dressing room doorway.
The lace slip was semi-transparent but dark enough that it wasn’t completely revealing. With butterflies in my stomach, I reached out and inched the heavy velvet curtain open just enough for him to stick his head in.
He took a long, slow look from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. At first, I kept my eyes firmly glued to the crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling. It was one thing to let Aiden look and another to watch while he did it.
I risked a quick glance and the tight set of his jaw, the look in his eyes, had my lower belly clenching.
My nipples hardened under the soft lace. Aiden’s eyes heated as he watched.
In a choked voice he said, “Are those thigh-high stockings?”
I glanced down at the stockings I’d pulled on when I’d dressed on the plane. I always wore thigh highs, the kind with lace at the top and sticky rubber on the inside to hold them up. I couldn’t stand garter belts, and I didn’t like the way pantyhose felt around my waist. I didn’t usually think of them as particularly sexy—they were just part of my work wardrobe. No one ever saw them but me.
“Yes,” I said, “why, do you like them?” I don’t know where I found it in me to tease him. The flare of his eyes at my words sent a rush of heat between my legs.
“I like them.” Squeezing his eyes shut tight for a long moment he said, “Try everything on and, if it fits, we’ll get it. I’m staying out here before I do something I’ll regret.”
I tried everything on and, as ordered, divided the haul between two hooks on the wall of the dressing room—things that fit and things that didn’t. From the items that fit I chose the two least expensive. Once again dressed in my suit, I pulled back the heavy velvet curtain and handed Aiden the two hangers. He took one look and shook his head.
“I know more than that fit.” Scanning the dressing room, he said, “Which ones?”
“Aiden, you can’t. It’s not appropriate. This isn’t—I can’t—”
Why was this obvious only to me?
He shouldn’t be buying me anything. Taking me away for the weekend on the pretense of business was bad enough, but spending this kind of money buying me lingerie was just… Inappropriate didn’t begin to cover it.
I wasn’t his girlfriend. I wasn’t his mistress. I didn’t want to force the issue, especially not there, in the dressing room, surrounded by silk and lace, my head clouded with thoughts of sex and Aiden.
I tried again. “Aiden, this is fun, but it’s just for this weekend. You know that. I can’t let you waste your money on all of this—”
I waved my hand at the thousands of dollars of lingerie hanging on the wall behind me. I opened my mouth to speak, and Aiden pressed his finger to my bottom lip in a shushing gesture that immediately pushed me from helpless confusion to ice queen.
Before I thought better of it, I pulled my head back and nipped the tip of his finger.
Hard.
Aiden groaned low in his throat and took my chin in his hand. His touch was light, gentle. I could have stepped away. I don’t know why I didn’t.
His warm brown eyes studied mine and, beneath the heat of lust, there was more. Emotions I couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to mine once before moving them to my ear. “You make your choices, and I’ll make mine. I’m buying everything that fits. If you don’t want it, you don’t have to keep it. My buying it doesn’t obligate you to anything. We’re starting with this weekend. Then we’ll see.”
The touch of his warm lips to my cheek contrasted with his practical words, mesmerizing me. If he’d given me some vague condescending reassurance, I would have smacked him down. But this? Before I could think of what to say, he pointed at the two hooks on the wall and repeated, “Which one?”
Deciding I wouldn’t sacrifice my dignity over an argument I couldn’t win, I pointed at the hook on the left, holding the lavender gown the saleswoman had chosen when we arrived, the dark lace slip Aiden had watched me try on, four sets of bras and panties, a bustier and matching thong in petal pink, and a slip and matching robe in a deep plum.
I refused to consider the total of the price tags. I didn’t want to know. If Aiden wanted to waste his money, that was his problem. I had too many of my own already.
Chapter Seventeen
Violet
I left Aiden to pay and strolled to the shoe store a few doors down. The last thing I needed was another pair of shoes, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look.
Aiden joined me at the window, carrying the pink and black bags from Agent Provocateur, and said, “Do you want to go in?”
“No,” I said. “I’m over my budget on shoes for the month as it is.” He started to speak and I held up my hand. “Don’t even think about it. All of that is one thing,” I said, waving my hand at the bags he held. “Shoes are different.”
“How are shoes different?” he asked, taking my hand as we strolled back toward where we left the SUV and driver.
“If you have to ask, I don’t think I can explain it,” I said. I wasn’t sure I understood myself. I could argue that the lingerie was for him. I’m pretty sure that was a lie, but it sounded like the truth. Still, he’d get something out of the lingerie.
Shoes, tho
ugh…shoes would be for me. They were my special indulgence, my favorite splurge. Every pair in that shop window had been so far beyond my normal budget I never would have bought any of them on my own.
If Aiden got them for me… It just felt too intimate. A man might buy lingerie for a fling, but he bought shoes for a girlfriend. I didn’t need to get confused about Aiden. I knew where we stood.
He let it go, and as we made our way back to the Delecta we kept the conversation light, talking about the details of the project he and Jacob would build with Dylan.
I barely remember dinner.
Dylan’s wife Leigha was nice, and not at all what I’d expected. I’d been looking for a tall blonde showgirl and instead got a very curvy, very sweet brunette. They were no longer newlyweds, but Dylan couldn’t keep his eyes, or his hands, off his wife.
One of the Sinclairs, Axel, lived in Vegas, and he brought his wife Emma, a redhead with a bombshell body who was just as nice as Leigha. The food was amazing, the company fun, and I was too distracted to enjoy any of it.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen after dinner. About the big, wide bed in the hotel suite. About all the things I wanted to do in that bed.
And I did want it. I would never have gotten on that plane with Aiden if I hadn’t wanted to go to bed with him, hadn’t been absolutely sure about it.
I was still absolutely sure I wanted to have sex with Aiden Winters.
I did.
I really, really did.
And I was a total mess over it. My skin was too tight, every nerve in my body on edge. If one more emotion decided to swirl inside me, I’d split open. My body wanted him.
My nipples had been hard, my breasts swollen, ever since I pulled on the sheer lace bra Aiden had purchased. Beneath the matching thong, I was damp. Needy. His hands, his mouth, hadn’t been enough. I wanted all of him.
My body was not confused.
My brain was all over the place.
I was not going to know what I was doing. I had no game, no tricks, and I’d never in my life attempted to seduce a man. I’d had two long-term boyfriends and we’d had plenty of sex, but it was ordinary.
Turn off the TV, turn off the light, roll towards each other under the covers, insert tab A into slot B, and repeat. That was pretty much it. It hadn’t been bad, it was just…ordinary.
Aiden was anything but ordinary.
The ice queen got me through almost every situation in life that scared me. When I got nervous, I got frosty, and everyone backed off. Once people knew they couldn’t get to you, they stopped trying. But the ice queen act couldn’t help me here.
I didn’t want to freeze Aiden out. I wanted to give him everything I had—all my passion, all my need. I wasn’t sure I knew how, or if it would be enough. The thought of disappointing him had me half sick with dread. The thought of trying not to left me dizzy with anticipation.
At one point during dinner, Aiden moved my wine glass out of reach, but I don’t remember drinking too much. I didn’t get drunk, or even tipsy. He slid his hand over my knee as I was geeking out with Leigha over accounting, and I completely lost my train of thought, my cheeks burning red when Leigha said, “Violet? Are you okay?”
Aiden’s fingers squeezed. I cleared my throat. “I’m good. Just,—” I resisted the urge to look at Aiden and took a sip of water. “Tell me more about your master’s program.”
Leigha was an accountant. I’d completed the first year of a master’s degree in accountancy and had been meaning to go back and finish it. I told myself I was still trying to save up the money. I’d started through an employer sponsored program and when I’d lost that job the tuition money had dried up.
I liked bookkeeping and I was good at it, but my long-term plan had been to finish my master’s and look for more complex work in the accounting field than I was qualified for as a bookkeeper. It didn’t occur to me until we were halfway through the conversation that as far as Aiden knew, I was a project manager.
Then again, if Sinclair Security was as good as their reputation, Aiden already knew I wasn’t a project manager. He probably knew how many credits I’d had toward my master’s degree when I dropped out.
It was one more reminder that I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be with Aiden. When I got home, I was going to quit, drop this ridiculous quest to get Chase’s company back, and figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
After I got through tonight.
I barely spoke on the elevator ride back to our suite. My throat was tight, my heart thudding under my ribs. Aiden stood a foot away, not touching me, his eyes on my face.
“You didn’t eat much dinner,” he commented, carefully.
Lifting my chin, I met the reflection of his eyes in the polished doors of the elevator. “It was delicious, but I wasn’t that hungry.”
Aiden answered with a considering, “Mmmm.”
I was wound too tight to ask what that meant. We walked into the hotel suite to see an iced bottle of champagne and two glasses sitting on the dining room table. The suite was enormous. Sitting room, dining room, wet bar, and two bedrooms, everything the height of luxury.
I was pretty sure Dylan could have just put us in a room with a bed for all the use we were going to get out of the rest of it.
I was here to have sex with Aiden. Now that we were here, I just wanted to get it over with before I lost my nerve completely.
I looked from the champagne to Aiden, expecting him to open the bottle and pour me a glass. Instead, he took out his phone and tapped the screen. A minute later I heard a bloop from the small black speaker in the wet bar and the familiar tones of an old Harry Connick, Jr. song filled the room.
Aiden turned and reached for my hand. Then he did the last thing I expected. He danced with me. He didn’t kiss me, or reach for my zipper, or lead me into the bedroom.
He held me close, and we danced.
In heels, I was exactly the right height to dance with Aiden, the top of my head just even with his cheekbone. His lips were at my temple, one arm around my back, the other holding my hand.
One song flowed into the next and gradually, inch by inch, my tension eased away. I could have danced with Aiden all night. His breath against my skin, his fingers warm through the thin silk of my dress.
He still wore his suit coat, and the fabric was too thick. An itch started under my skin. I wanted him closer. Wanted to get rid of everything between us and feel him. My hands were moving before I’d thought it through, sliding up over his shoulders, beneath his jacket, pushing it down his arms.
Aiden caught it before it fell to the floor, tossing it over a chair and pulling me back into the dance, closer this time, feathering his lips across my hair. He lifted his hand from my back and stroked it over the long blonde waves I’d freed from their daytime bun.
“I’ve never seen your hair like this,” he said. “I like it.”
I couldn’t seem to get a word out. I pressed my forehead into his neck. He smelled so good, woodsy and male. I wanted to taste that scent, to taste his skin. My head was spinning, and my steps faltered.
Aiden stopped and lifted his palms to my face, cupping my chin, raising my lips to his. He nipped at my lower lip and sucked it, tracing his tongue over it before pressing his mouth to mine, urging me to open to him.
His tongue brushed mine, and all I knew was want. His kiss was hot and wet, slow and deep. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me in place as he kissed me until I was dizzy with it.
My hands raced over him, tugging at his tie, pulling at the buttons of his shirt. I didn’t care about finesse or seduction. I just wanted to touch him. I had to touch him. His shirt caught on his hands and I yanked in frustration.
Aiden broke the kiss just long enough to remove his cufflinks and toss the shirt to the floor. My hands were on his belt, and then he was kissing me again, his mouth skimming over my jaw, landing on my neck just below my ear. He sucked hard on the tender
skin and a violent shudder wracked my body.
Heat pooled between my legs. The soft lace of my bra scratched my nipples. I wanted it all off. Hooking my thumbs in Aiden’s pants, I shoved them down, taking his underwear along with them. He stepped back just enough to kick off his clothes and my eyes went wide.
He should have looked ridiculous standing there in only a pair of dress socks. My mouth went dry. Ridiculous was the last thing I would call Aiden Winters. I’d never seen him naked, not even close, and my imagination hadn’t done him justice.
Golden skin stretched over broad shoulders and tight muscles. Powerful thighs, taut abs delineated by ridged muscle, and between his legs—my eyes settled on his cock and I couldn’t pull them away.
I thought I’d gauged his size through his suit pants. I’d been wrong. He was hard and thick. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get my fingers around that cock, much less fit it inside me. I wanted to try. I reached out a hand, almost touching when Aiden’s fingers caught mine and pulled them away.
“Not yet,” he said. “The look on your face is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and if you touch me right now I’m going to disappoint us both.”
I dragged my eyes from his erection, too aroused, too enraptured by the sight of his naked body to be embarrassed. Sparks of gold flashed in the brown of his eyes, and they burned. He reached behind me and tugged down the zipper of my dress. With a dip of my shoulder, I let it fall.
Aiden stared, absorbing me in my sheer pink demi-cup bra, panties that hid nothing, and tall, spiked black heels. I lifted a foot to step out of my shoes. Aiden scooped me into his arms, growling, “Leave them on,” as he strode to his room, stopping only to kick open the door.
He set me on the bed, gently, leaning down to pull off his socks and grab something from the bedside table.
“Take off your bra,” he ordered.
It didn’t occur to me to do anything else. I reached behind me and unfastened it, letting one strap, then the other, fall down my arms. The delicate lace slid down with every breath, moving in tiny degrees until it caught on my hard nipples and hung.