Page 74 of The Chase

“Second of all, it’s Tom Ford—is the one in your closet Tom Ford? I didn’t think so. Third of all, shut up and come touch this.”

I’m scared she’ll smack me if I don’t, so I do what the lady orders. I can’t help but whistle as my fingers encounter the softest wool I’ve ever felt. “It’s nice,” I relent.

“Perfect, so we’ll try it over this…” She checks the second hanger. “Oooh, over this Saint Laurent shirt. Actually, no… You know what? I don’t think we even need a shirt underneath. I feel like the sweater might be thick enough that your nips won’t show. We’ll pair it with these trousers. Turn around.”

“Why?”

“I want to see your butt.”

“No,” I say indignantly.

“Turn around.”

I turn around because I don’t feel like losing another argument, but I throw in a silky reply just to unnerve her. “Do you like what you see? You can give it a squeeze if you want.”

She makes a squeaky noise. “Are youflirting? That’s highly inappropriate.”

“Says the woman staring longingly at my ass.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she replies, but I don’t miss the breathy note in her voice. “Okay. We’ll try the trousers, but Noah Billings’ butt isn’t as muscular as yours. These might show off a little too much ass.”

“Is there such a thing?” I ask solemnly.

Summer grins. “Touché. All right. Let’s see how this looks.”

I’m about to remove my shirt, when I realize she’s still standing there watching me. “What, I don’t get any privacy?”

“You’re just taking your shirt off. It’s not like you’re getting naked.”

Yes, but it still feels kind of…intimate. I shrug the thought away. If we were at the beach, I’d have no qualms going bare-chested. I’m being a pussy right now.

I peel my T-shirt over my head.

Summer’s green eyes widen. Appreciation heats her expression, and damned if that doesn’t inflate my ego like a helium balloon. It only gets bigger when she lets out a breathy noise that speaks directly to my dick.

“I love your tattoos,” she informs me.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

Her gaze is glued to my naked torso. Holy shit, if she keeps looking at me like that, I might not be able to stop myself from touching her. It’s already been a Herculean effort for me to draw her every night without giving in to every carnal urge that’s begging me to fuck her.

But I can’t. Not unless she makes the first move. I already blew my chance thanks to my behavior on New Year’s. Myhypercritical words had hurt her, and just because she’d accepted my apology doesn’t mean I can assume she’s into me now. The fact that she referred to us as “best friends” is probably a good indication of where I stand.

I’ve been friend-zoned.

“Permission to approach the chest?”

A hasty laugh pops out. “Permission granted?”

She steps forward for a closer examination of the ink on my arms and chest. “Did you design these yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“My God, Fitz. You’re so good.”

Embarrassment creeps up my throat. I don’t take compliments well. Never have. So I make a noncommittal sound that hopefully she interprets as a thank you.

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