Page 66 of David's Chase

He flashes a knowing smile.

“It’s definitely your size,” he says, and I get a hot flash.

He learned about my size by gripping my waist and cupping my breasts.

He also learned about my size by running his hands up my thighs and holding onto my hips while thrusting into me.

I can only imagine he must’ve used the same method in that case. The story might not be relevant, but that woman surely is.

Or she was back in time.

“Do you think it would look good on me?”

He tips his head down in a soft nod.

“It’s not outdated?” I ask. “I’d hate to go out wearing out–of–fashion clothes,” I say with self-deprecating humor.

“You’ll like it.”

All my efforts to make him talk have failed spectacularly, so I go silent.

I look out the window, trying to shake off this odd feeling that I’m getting into a story that has nothing to do with me.

His hand finds mine, his touch warm around mine.

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he says seriously when I shift my gaze to him.

I’m waiting.

“It’s something I bought for someone I thought was everything to me,” he says, and my heart sinks.

I stare at him, overwhelmed, not knowing what to think.

On the one hand, there’s him acknowledging––for the first time––that someone had meant something to him, Mr. North Pole.

And then it’s this gift, which is probably a dress and doesn’t mean much right now––although it meant a lot in the past––and that gift might be perfect for little old me.

I look at him, stunned, while his eyes hover over my face.

“Breathe,” he says, smiling.

“I wish I could. The thing is, I don’t want to mess with something that brings back memories from the past.

His smile dims.

“As I said… This gift has never been for the person I thought it was intended for. So, don’t feel bad about it.”

“You’ve kept it for so long,” I argue, and he takes a troubled breath and relaxes in his seat. “You even brought it to this place from wherever you’d previously kept it. There must be a reason for doing that.”

He shifts his focus to me again, a soft smile on his lips.

“It’s one of the very few things that remind me of who I was.”

My heart stops.

“I liked the man who bought that dress,” he says, gauging my reaction.

I look at him, frozen as if witnessing a miracle.

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