Page 68 of The Misfit

Three seconds of courage.

Her latex-covered fingers brush against the silk, then she gently swipes it across her forearm, and her small gasp is worth every penny I spent on these things.

“They’re so soft,” she whispers, tracing the tiny pearl buttons. “I’ve never…”

“There’s more.” I reveal the other pairs, displaying each of them. “Different lengths, different styles. All of them are yours.”

“Lee …” She looks from the gloves and up at me, then back again. When she speaks, her voice cracks with emotion. “This is too much. The dress, the gloves, all of it.”

“There is no price tag to your comfort.” I hate how rough my own voice sounds, the words are too honest for our fake relationship. “I want you to feel safe. Beautiful. Like you belong.”

Tears glisten in her eyes. I didn’t plan to make her cry, but I won’t lie. I love how happy this makes her. “Help me choose?”

“Always.”

We end up on her living room floor, surrounded by silk and possibility. She touches each pair through her latex gloves, counting the buttons and measuring the lengths against her arms. I demonstrate how each style works, pretending I didn’t spend hours watching videos on YouTube to learn. I don’t give a fuck what the rest of the world thinks about Salem. All I care about is how she makes me feel and how I make her feel in return.

“So what’s it going to be, Pantry Girl?”

“Hmm, they’re all so beautiful.”

“Of course they are. Like I would pick anything that wasn’t for you.”

Two pink spots appear on her cheeks. She has no reason to be bashful, but seeing those spots on her cheeks … they remind me of the pink flush that covered her skin, the dusky-pink color of her nipples, and her pretty pussy.

My cock hardens at the flicker of memories in my head.

“The longest ones,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “With the pearls?”

“Perfect choice.” I collect the gloves. I’m pretty sure I have a boner now. “Want to try them on with the dress?”

She bites her lip, and I already know she’s counting the pros and cons in her head. “Will you … will you stay? While I change? I want you to be the first to see it.”

Even if I couldn’t stay, if I had somewhere else to be, there is no way in hell I would miss this moment with her. I glance around at the empty room, then lean forward, my hand hovering just above the soft skin of her cheek. I’m tempted to touch her, but I always make certain it’s something she can handle. I scan her features for any signs of anxiety or discomfort. When I find none, I gently cup her cheek.

“I guess your dad wouldn’t appreciate it if I joined you, would he?”

She laughs, her breath fanning against my lips. “Probably not.”

Her gaze drops to my lips, and when her tongue darts out over her bottom lip, I groan. “What about a kiss?”

“Okay, but only a kiss.” She smiles, and I swallow up that smile, pressing my lips to hers. I’m greedy with her, hungry for more.

She kisses me back, threading her gloved hands into the hair at the nape of my neck. When I press deeper, swiping my tongue between her lips, she meets me stroke for stroke as if she’s been just as needy as I’ve been since the first time we had sex. And I’ve been so fucking needy for her.

I push gently to ease her onto her back, but her hands come to my chest to stop me. When I break the kiss, she’s panting against my mouth. “We can’t … not here.”

I take a deep breath and glance down at my hard dick outlined in my jeans. She looks, too, and for some reason, that turns me on more. “Go before I decide I can’t let you.”

She sighs and gathers herself. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll count ceiling tiles until you’re ready,” I promise.

Her smile is small but real. “Forty-seven in the living room.”

“Forty-eight if you count the half tile by the window.”

“You noticed that?”

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