Page 97 of Blissful Devotion

Now all I can think about is fucking her here, in that dress, the way I could wrap those straps around her arms.

The way she would look tied up in ropes.

Fuck.

I’m still staring at my phone when it vibrates again, and this time it’s a message from Des.

I call shopping with her next.

Des wouldn’t hesitate; he’d fuck her right here on the couch, but the fitting room has a curtain, and it’s not like there’s anyone else here but the workers.

I’m off the couch and moving before I can think better of it, eating up the space from the couch to the curtain. I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I’m making the right choice.

“Stupid lace.” Her low grumble lets me know she’s struggling, and that’s the last straw.

Pulling back the curtain, her back is to me, but I can see her expression in the mirror's reflection, her brows pulled in annoyance, a frown on those beautiful lips.

Her eyes fly up to meet mine in the mirror, terrified for a moment before recognition settles in and then something else.

“Oli?” Her voice is low, hardly more than a whisper, but it’s like a fucking drug going straight to my already aching cock, making me feel more like an animal than a man.

Stepping into the room, I pull the curtain closed behind me without breaking our gaze. She stands frozen, her chest heaving, eyes blown wide. Maybe my father was onto something.

Her arms are indeed stuck in the lace sleeves, about halfway down her biceps. The dress is unzipped but clearly not going anywhere.

Perfect.

I don’t think. I know if I take too long to think about what I’m doing, where we are, or anything else, I’ll overthink this.

And maybe I should; this can’t be a great idea.

No, it’s probably a terrible idea, but for once in my life, I don’t care.

I want her, and from the way she’s looking at me, I think it’s safe to say she wants me too, and that’s all that matters.

For some crazy reason, Kat wants me. I don’t deserve her. I’m not sure I ever could deserve someone as amazing as her, but I want to.

I want to be everything she wants and needs, or at least one of the men she wants and needs.

I cross the small space in two steps, crowding her back toward the mirror. She moves back, and I search her face for worry or fear but find neither.

Her eyes hold so many emotions, and beyond that, trust.

It’s intoxicating.

No woman has ever looked at me the way she does, not those I’ve fucked or the ones I’ve practiced on.

Something tells me Kat would be perfect, but honestly, I already knew that.

Her back hits the mirror, and her breath hitches. Her mouth falls open ever so slightly as she swallows hard, her chest heaving.

I’ve never been this invested in the way a woman reacts to me, but I could watch her like this all day.

We don’t have all day, though, sadly.

I reach down, gather the excess fabric of her sleeves, and use it to spin her around. She nearly stumbles but catches herself, not that I would let her fall. Her eyes jump back to mine in the mirror the second she’s spun around, her lip caught between her teeth.

With the fabric still in my hand, I lift her arms, pressing my hand to the mirror so that her arms are up above her head as my eyes trail over her back.