Page 91 of Perfect Satisfaction

I love watching him like this.

A lock of hair has fallen in front of his face. Carefully, I lean over and brush it back. I hold my breath as the fan of his lashes begins to flutter. I don’t move.

I can’t.

If I do, it’s going to be to lean into him instead of away from him.

I’m rescued by the next text I receive from Brendan.No lying. Right now, if you could do anything to him, what would it be?

Kiss him.

Then why the hell aren’t you?Comes my brother’s immediate reply.

I squeeze my eyes shut and draw up my knees so I can lay my head against them. I breathe, “Because I’ve lived with more rejection than one person can take.”

Without typing a response, I put my cell on the end table. Rolling over to my side, I twist so I’m within arm’s reach. I wonder whether he’s realized I’ve slipped from his embrace.

I was terrified earlier when he was waiting for me.

Would I have been strong enough to have turned him down?

Swallowing a knot in my throat, I already know the answer. No. The simmering boil between Arek and myself is starting to bubble over. When it does... I shiver. I remember the way his hands drove my body insane.

But can I give myself to a man who is in love with another woman? The thought plagues me long after I should have fallen back asleep.

Arek’s eyes open. He pulls me closer into his warmth giving me the only answer I need.

Him.

CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE

Danielle Madison strut down the runway of Amaryllis Designs spring fashion show, once again demonstrating to the world that grace and beauty have absolutely nothing to do with age.

They come from a person’s inner power and fire.

Emily Freeman used that as the theme for her collection, featuring models of all shapes, sizes, colors, and gender fluidity.

There is little doubt appointments at Amaryllis Designs will again be booked quickly.

Damn, there goes my chance to get a custom-made gown. Again.

—Moore You Want

Checking my reflection in the mirror,I hold up my phone so Angie can get a load of what I’m wearing. Doubtfully, I remark, “I’m not so sure about this. I mean, we’re going to be in the front row.”

The stretch mini dress Dani asked Emily Freeman to pull from her collection has a mock turtleneck exposing my entire left shoulder and parts of each of the long sleeves cut out.

It’s also short. Spinning, I check out my ass and tug a bit. “I’m honestly afraid to wear panties and I desperately need them.”

Angie giggles. “Ward almost had a heart attack when he saw mine.”

“Show me,” I demand.

When she does, I whistle. “That looks fabulous on you.” I gather my handbag and shove in my lipstick, credit cards, and some cash. Making my way to the door, I wonder, “Is he going to let you out of the house or am I going to the show alone?”

“You yourself may not be leaving. Jesus Christ, Ursula,” comes from the living room.

Angie quirks a brow. I roll my eyes. “The car is picking you up in five. I’ll see you a few minutes after. We should have plenty of time to make it backstage to help.”