Page 70 of Secret Obsession
She does. Slowly.
That dress is toxic. It looks fucking amazing, hugging her curves and highlighting herassets. But it’s trouble because it almost makes me forget my anger. And the plan I came up with.
“Rules,” I announce.
Her arms fold over her chest, and her mouth opens.
“No.” I hold up my hand. “You don’t get a say. These are my rules.”
My gaze drops to her bare thighs. She toes off her shoes, leaving them just inside the door.
“Well?” Her voice is soft.
“No panties. Including thongs.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Or pants,” I add. “While you’re in this room.”
She exhales. “And why is that?”
“To make you uncomfortable.” Words she said to me just this morning.
Was it really only this morning?
She nods once, and her blonde hair swings in her face. She tucks it behind her ear and bends down, hooking her thumbs under her dress and dragging the neon-green thong down her legs. ’Til it gets to her knees and falls on its own. Then she steps out of it, slinging it with one foot to land on top of her shoes.
“Is that it?”
“No.” I move closer and hold out a shirt. “Put this on.”
She eyes the ball of fabric in my grip, then slowly steps forward. Her toenails are painted black. Not the cute color I would’ve envisioned for her. But she shakes out my t-shirt and holds it up, then lowers it.
“Is that a rule? Wear this shirt?”
“The rule is, you wear what I tell you to wear.”
“So you’re going to dress me,” she responds.
Yes. The word comes up and stops behind my teeth. I barely manage to contain it. But I nod anyway, and her gaze drops to her feet. She reaches behind her and drags the zipper of her dress down and lets the whole thing slide off her body.
My brain stops working.
My dick, however, has fully woken up. It stiffens immediately, standing at attention against the zipper of my pants.
Her tits are bare, no bra to speak of. Her nipples pebble.
There’s so much space between us, it’s laughable.
Once the shirt is on, she resumes her cross-armed stance. The bottom hem hits her mid-thigh, and I once again admire the smooth tanned skin peeking out from under it.
“Repeat the rules,” I order.
She rolls her eyes. “No pants or underwear in the room. You’re going to tell me what to wear. Although I’m not really sure on what you mean byinthe room. Is there a grace period? Like, I’ve got five minutes to take off my clothes? Or am I expected to strip in the hallway?” She glances over her shoulder. “Tony wouldn’t give a shit, but Finch might be interested in our arrangement. And Kno—”
“Third rule,” I interrupt. “No mentioning my brother.”
She presses her lips together. “In here, or ever?”
