Page 39 of Commander

“Get dressed,” he says softly.

I blink as if dazed. “I can’t imagine a single lady who’d want to hear you say that. They’d want to hear the exact opposite.”

“You’re not a lady.”

I scoff and, without another word, move away, but stop when my dress doesn’t move with me. Thinking my dress is caught on something, I turn, only to see D’Artaron’s holding it. He sits in my place and pulls out what appears to be a strange and rather ugly corset.

“New fashion?” I ask, wondering what polite excuse I can use not to wear it.

“My sister’s armor,” he says. “Worn under the corset.”

“It looks sturdy.”

“It is.”

I’m already uncomfortable in a corset, and this will just make me not want to breathe, but I’m sure if I argued against it, I’d lose. The commander won’t compromise on my safety. I just know he won’t.

I snatch the female military armor and wait for him to leave so I can dress, but he remains sitting.

Something sexual permeates the air. It feels the same as it had when he remained in the room while I bathed. I think he likes watching me.

“I should dress,” I say.

“That’s what I said.”

I could request he leave, and he would do so, likely never to try again, which is precisely why I would never ask him to leave. Nor would I deprive him of the view he seems to enjoy.

From the back, I untie my dress, then let it drop, but my breasts hold it at the top, my corset acting like a hook for the soft, light material.

I step between the commander’s legs.

“Someone must help you with your corset,” he says, and hooks a finger at the front of the dress to bring it down. It pools around my ankles.

“Is that what you tell yourself? That I need your help with the corset?” I ask as he stares at my breasts.

He nods. “Among other things.” D’Artaron’s gaze never wavers, and my heart’s about to flame out. I’m certain he hears it beating.

He leans in closer, his mouth almost brushing the top of my breast. Just when I think he might take my breast into his mouth, he blows on my skin, making my nipples perk.

A shiver runs down my spine.

“With permission, I would like to draw your curves sometime.”

“Anytime,” I say like an eager puppy. Inwardly, I roll my eyes. I can like this male or the way he touches me and speaks to me without sounding so giddy whenever he compliments me.

D’Artaron’s magic brings the corset, and he abruptly grabs my hips. I yelp as he spins me around and practically slaps the corset over my breasts and uses his magic to hold it in place while he tightens the laces with his hands. Not too tight, but not loose either. It’s perfect, as if he can feel it on my skin. I wonder if he can.

“I have a question about your magic,” I say.

“I may have an answer.”

“Can you feel things without touching them?”

His corset work pauses. “All kinetics can do that.”

“Yes, but let’s say you’re saddling a horse, and you use magic to put the tack on it. Can you feel the horse’s spine or the hair?”

When no answer comes, I turn my head and catch his teal gaze. He yanks a corset string, making me suck in a breath. Without answering, he spins me around again so I’m facing him.

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