Page 48 of Passenger Princess

And he does.

TWENTY-THREE

AVA

"What is that?" Jaime asks when I step out of my bedroom four days later to head out for the day's excursion.

"A bag," I say with a smile, lifting the small cream-colored lace clutch.

"You know what I mean," he says, and I do, of course.

I went with a pink corset-esque top with bows at the shoulders and a short, cream skirt that’s fitted until mid-thigh before it flares out in a short ruffle. Although the top has an underwire to hold me in and give me much-needed support, my breasts nearly spill out the top, and although I’m wearing nude boy shorts under to cover my ass, the skirt is definitely short.

Jaime looks irritated.

"Oh, this little old thing?" I ask with a wide smile, twisting so the ruffles on my skirt flare just a bit.

"Emphasis on little," he says with a frown. I can almost see the gears in his mind working.

"Hush, it’s more coverage than half of the outfits I wore for the pageant. The bathing suit they made all of us wear barely coveredanything," I say, referencing the required swimsuit I wore for the Miss Americana pageant.

"Yeah, trust me, I know."

"You watched the pageant?" I ask, suddenly interested.

"Part of my job is knowing who I'm watching. Your photos are plastered all over the internet. Those swimsuit photos are pretty hard to avoid."

"Don't sound too happy about that, now."

"Trust me, I'm not."

"Let me guess, you're one of those guys who thinks a woman should only wear skirted one-pieces at the beach."

"No, but it would make my life a bit easier if you covered more of your ass."

I take a step closer to him and smile. "So you've been watching my ass?"

Something flares in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it comes.

"I think the entire country has seen your ass at this point."

"Maybe it's a good thing you don't like me then," I say with an eye roll.

"You can say that again," he says.

"Why, because if I was yours, you'd go all caveman on me, put me in a nun habit at all times?" Something in him seems to snap as his jaw goes tight. He steps closer with a shake of his head, and my heart begins to race.

"No, Princess."

"So you'd just never let me leave the house?" My voice is a breathy whisper, barely two feet between us.

"No, sweetheart. If you were mine, I'd take you everywhere. Anywhere. Show you off any chance I got. A woman like you, you don't tell her what to do, what to wear. You let her do it, then prepare to watch her ass as she moves, stay alert while she lives her life, ensuring no harm comes to her. You make it so she never has to realize there's a world outside of her bubble that isn't sunshine and rainbows."

His words stop my breath in my lungs, stop the blood in my veins, my heart skipping a beat.

"Sounds pretty close to what we're doing right now, doesn't it?" I ask, and even to my own ears, my voice sounds breathy and seductive, a Marilyn Monroe quality to it. "Me wearing whatever I want, doing whatever I want, you watching my ass so nothing bad happens to me?"

He shakes his head, a bit of regret in the look. "But you're not mine, Ava."

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