Page 78 of Whispers of Fire

Looks like I’m not the only one shaken to my core.

Giving me the clothes, he watches me as I mount the steps toward his bedroom. His gaze is burning me with intensity. I wish I could hold his - dare to kiss me stare, but I don’t. Because today was too much for me to handle, and I’m not sure my legs will be able to take another life changing moment.

As I enter his bedroom, the large inviting bed reminds me of us this morning and how much I’ve loved falling asleep in his muscular arms. It’s crazy how familiar this feels, to be in his house, to sleep here, shower, eat, watch movies.

It feels like… like… home.

As I carefully slide into the black pants and t-shirt Vox gave to me, I'm struck by how they mold my body perfectly, accentuating my curves in a way that is new and… seductive.

I don’t hate it, I really don’t. I feel like one of those girls I see in the street coming out of fashion stores with their friends.

I feel… like myself.

Noticing my reflection in the foot-length mirror in the corner of the room, I spin and admire how the stretch of the fabric shapes my thighs. This is so daring… I would never dare to step out in public dressed this way…

But you are, Rose, you’re wearing it and you’re loving it.

God, I do.

This is so much more me than my brown nightgown laid on the bed covers. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I see a different version of myself staring back.

It's a new sensation, wearing sexy black clothes that are meant for a woman, not a little innocent lamb like I'm used to be seen as. These are the clothes of a woman who owns her power, and even if it’s still very new, I like it better than my thick brown dresses.

Raising my eyes to my face, I run a hand down my braid. Biting my lips, I swallow a small grin.

No braids for this new version of me.

No restrictions, no rules.

Unleashing my hair, I let it fall on my shoulders, the texture wavy and flowing on me like a cascade of silk.

Turning back from the mirror, I put my dress on my forearm and reach the stairs to get back to Vox. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, my heart pounding in my chest.

Will he like it?

Reaching the last step, I lift my face to him and get my answer right away.

Dear lord.

His eyes light up with something burning inside of them, his gaze feasting on every inch of me like a predator ready to jump on his prey. I swallow hard, the heat building in my body, his blue eyes igniting a fire within me that I’ve been trying to fight since the day I met him.

How can something so wrong feel so right?

Vox's gaze lingers on me, shamelessly tracing the curves of my body with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

God, I'm sure I’m flushed and looking like a hot mess right now.

His jaw clenches and his breathing quickens with each step I take closer to him. The tension hangs heavy in the air, so thick I could cut it with a knife. His eyes are hungry, carrying a primal fire burning bright in his pupils.

I swallow.

Hard.

No, Rose, this is wrong, you’re betrothed.

But my inner voice seems to drift farther away as each day passes, making me wonder when my last thread of obedience will finally snap. Our bodies are drawn to each other, so much so I can feel his delicious minty breath on me. Resting his hand on my hips like a husband would on his wife, he takes my chin with the other and lifts my face until our gazes melt into one another’s.

“Perfect. So fuckin’ perfect,” he says, and I blush even more at the sound of his praise.

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