Page 21 of Body

“Believe me, I want to sink my dick so far into you, you won’t know what hit you, but it would be taking advantage.” He stands and tucks his shirt back into his slacks. “I’m taking you to one of my restaurants this evening. I’ve had a dress sent over.” He grabs a box that he must have brought in because it wasn’t there when I went to sleep.

“How did you get in here?”

He shrugs. “My hotel.”

“Do you ever take no for an answer?”

“Rarely,” he admits. “Now slip this on.” He holds the box out, but away from the bed, so I have to get out of bed to retrieve it.

Two can play at this game. I smile coyly and his eyebrows rise into sculpted triangles. He has no idea what he’s in for. I pull back the covers and stand tall in a royal blue bra and thong matching set and nothing else. The cups of the bra are see-through, leaving nothing to the imagination. The pale pink of my nipples have hardened and puckered through the sheer fabric. His mouth opens and closes on a gasp. He takes a deep breath, and those ocean eyes scan me from head to toe before zeroing in on my chest.

I grab the box from him and delight in the knowledge that the second I turn around, he’s going to see bare ass with only a tiny wisp of lace above my tailbone and a string across each hip holding the garment in place. I turn and sashay toward the bathroom.

“God, woman! You’re going to be the death of me!”

In a second flat, he’s behind me, one hand on my ass gripping and squeezing the cheek, the other cupping a breast pinching the nipple through the sheer fabric, elongating it further. My back is smashed against his front. He kisses the side of my neck, across my shoulder blades, ending at the opposite shoulder, where he presses his teeth and bites down leaving a slight indentation in the skin. I moan and melt against him as he soothes the bite with his tongue and lips.

“You smell so good. Baby, I’ve never held back before, and it’s killing me.” The breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine and a new bout of need through my core. His fingers do wicked things to my nipple and I moan, leaning against him harder, pressing and rubbing my ass into his growing erection.

“Then don’t hold back,” I goad.

He pulls back and slaps my ass. I shriek and jump forward.

“Get dressed,” he says with finality, then adjusts his crotch.

I grit my teeth and enter the bathroom. Closing the door, I take a firm hold of the sink, gripping the tile. I have never wanted to make love to a man more than I do right now. He’s driving me insane waiting. After a few deep breaths, I’ve cooled the fevered emotions and hormones his mere presence sends raging. Looking in the mirror at my reflection, I go cold.

I haven’t really looked at myself since the attack. Unfortunately, I’ve seen this woman before and she’s hideous. My cheek is still swollen, though it is not nearly as noticeable as last night. There’s a garish purple and yellow bruise forming and spreading along my cheek into my hairline and up to the bandage over my right eye. I pull at the sterile strips, removing the bandage completely and take a good look at the stitches. There are five stitches accompanied by a sticky dark orange substance surrounding the area. It’s the iodine they used to prep the area before stitching it. It’s not the first time I’ve been sewn up after an attack. Hopefully, the last though. I sigh. How many times have I looked in the mirror at this ugly woman. Too many to count.

I wash away the iodine and the area looks better. The doctor did a good job stitching up the wound. Maybe it won’t scar. Concealer helps to hide the bruise and discoloration. I pull up my hair and pin it into a messy bun with the longer layers sweeping across my forehead and cheek. That serves as a nice cover to the wounded area and hides the stitches quite nicely. It’s the best I can do. I hate that I’m an expert at covering up bruises and wounds. Too many years of practice. But not anymore. I shake the thought away. Now’s not the time to go digging into the past.

Opening the box, I pull out the garment Chase brought for me. Extravagant would describe it best. I’m pretty sure I’ve never worn anything so exquisite. It’s a deep chocolate with a high neck that will cover the cuts and bruises at my throat. I slip it on, clip the back and the dress falls to just above the knee. It hugs my curves delicately. The silk fabric feels like flowing water on my skin, it’s so soft. I look at myself in the mirror and do not recognize the woman staring back. The dress is stunning and makes me look elegant. Chase might actually be proud of having this woman on his arm.

The entire back opens in a cowl style hanging just above my bottom. The little dips above my sacrum wink into sight as the fabric sways over them with the slightest movement. Awkwardly, I remove my bra.

I’m actually happy he came for me, even though I tried to push him away. In this dress, I actually feel like myself. The pounding headache from earlier is gone, thanks to the long nap and double dose of meds, but now I’m ravenous. Hungry for both food and Chase. Though, if Chase sticks to his ridiculous no hanky panky policy, I’m only going to be satisfied with one.

I slide a sheer glistening gloss over my lips and exit the bathroom. Chase is sipping a glass of wine. He hands me a glass then grasps my hand twirling me around to inspect the dress.

“You’re an incredibly sexy woman, Gillian.” His voice is seductive as he trails one finger along the open back, caressing my spine from nape to tailbone. Goosebumps appear across my flesh and I hold in a moan, biting my lip instead. Boldly, he dips his fingers into the back of the dress to trace the tip of my thong. “I love that I’m the only man who gets to do this.”

“Chase, the things you say,” comes out breathy and labored. I go to the closet and pull out a pair of nude peep toe heels, relieved that I packed the perfect staple shoes. They go with anything and everything. I step into them and the additional few inches of height make me feel better immediately.

“I have one more thing for you,” he says.

I take another sip of the wine and set it down on the side table.

He hands me a bag with “Louis Vuitton” emblazoned on the outside. “Why are you buying me things? You hardly know me,” I ask nervously.

“Because I want to. If I want to buy a beautiful woman nice things, I will.”

I gaze into his eyes and see honesty there. “Thank you.” I reply not knowing what else to say. Mom always told me that when someone does something nice you just say thank you. Don’t question it; just be grateful that they thought of you.

I open the bag and find a sleek black midsized purse. It has medium length handles and is square in shape. Very minimalist. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself. The style and color will easily go with most outfits. He has excellent taste, and it is a lovely, thoughtful gesture after mine was stolen last night.

I smile and look at him grinning. “This is amazing, Chase. Really, thank you.” I pull it out and hold it next to me. The price tag drops over the side of the strap and I catch the amount. Oh. My. God. The tag reads eleven hundred dollars. “You spent $1100 dollars on a purse! This is too much.” I push the bag toward him as if it has suddenly grown teeth. He doesn’t take it and it drops to the floor in a beautiful leather heap.

“Chase, the purse that was stolen probably cost me fifty dollars. This is more than my share of rent for a month!” I’m breathing too fast. I swallow slowly and try to avoid the mini-panic attack. I look up at Chase. His teeth are clenched and that little muscle in his jaw is ticking.

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