“Oh?” He hangs his hat and coat on the rack near the door, shooting me a curious glance over his broad shoulders.
“I know how hard it is for men to admit when they need help with something.” I’m purposefully pushing buttons, or looking for buttons, rather, testing to see if he’ll give me some kind of adverse reaction. So far Callum Reid is perfect—too perfect—surely he must have a flaw, and tonight I hope to find it. If the man is an asshole like the other monarchs, turning him over to Lady M won’t be so bad. “Especially asking for help with something as delicate as intimacy.” It’s a reminder to both of us as to why we’re supposedly here.
“I need help with a lot things, my lady. It would be foolish to believe otherwise.”
I close my eyes for half a second, using the brief respite from his earnest face to remind myself what the end goal is here.
“Shall we dance?” Callum unfastens the buttons at the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling up his shirt to bare his forearms, covered with a light smattering of freckles and golden copper hair and roped with muscle. He’s dressed more casually tonight, in black pants and a black shirt covered with a red brocade vest.
And how am I supposed to focus on finding his flaws with forearms like that. I swallow thickly. “We won’t be dancing tonight, actually.”
“What’s the plan, then?” There’s a hint of fear in his eyes.
That fear bolsters me. I have the upper hand here. Callum Reid is already under my thumb; all I have to do is keep him there. I pull back my shoulders. “Undress me, Your Highness.”
The color drains right out of his face, leaving him even paler than he was before. “I’m sorry?”
“That’s tonight’s lesson. Undress me.”
“Is that really necessary?” He asks the question like I’m not gifting him with an opportunity plenty of people have paid good money for.
I cross the room, landing right in front of him, tilting my chin up to meet his solid blue gaze. “Ladies’ garments are tricky, and nothing kills the mood faster than having to call a servant in to help remove your partner’s clothes.”
“Can’t you just explain how to do it?” His voice rises in pitch, and I wish I didn’t find his hesitation so charming.
“You are going to have to put your hands on me at some point, Your Highness.” I spin around, my back to his front, peeking at him over my shoulder. “Now, take off my clothes.”
He sighs and I don’t feel his hands on me for a full minute. Butthen his fingers take to the buttons lining the back of my dress, popping each one quickly, like he has done this in the past.
I don’t know why the thought of his hands undressing other women bothers me, but it does.
“Good. Now, it’s important to remember that undressing can be a form of intimacy all on its own. Slide the dress off of me and let your hands explore the skin that’s revealed as you go. Take your time, make this part of the seduction.” I’m grateful I don’t have to watch him while I deliver my directive, certain that one glance from those eyes or a hint of a smile on his perfect mouth might send me into a state of combustion.
He hesitates again, but then his warm hands land on my upper back, slipping underneath the silky fabric of my dress and sliding it off my shoulders. His fingers linger on the trio of freckles on my right shoulder and I have to bite my lip to stifle a gasp.
I’m even more grateful he can’t see my reaction—a reaction I shouldn’t even be having. But the gentle trace of his fingers over my bare arms sends a burst of heat through me.
The dress pools around my hips, the swell of them preventing the fabric from falling fully to the floor.
I peek over my shoulder again. Callum’s eyes are locked on my bare upper back like it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. And surely it can’t be, unless he was lying to me about having previous partners and is somehow just really good with buttons, and yet I almost want it to be. Reaching back, I take his hands in mine, guiding them to my hips.
His thumbs stroke the lace-covered skin there and I have to hold in a gasp. He pushes the fabric of my dress down and I kick it away from my feet.
I turn to face him, dressed now in just my corset and panties,garter belt, hose, and shoes. A fair number of items providing not a whole lot of coverage.
Gently pushing Callum back so he is seated on the chaise, I lift one foot and place it on his thigh. Channeling the character I only slip into for the most offensive of my clients, I fit a mask firmly over my face, determined not to let him see me sweat. I point at the buckle of my strappy gold shoe, afraid that if I open my mouth to speak, nothing will come out. He obliges, slipping the heel from my foot.
I cover one of his hands with mine, dragging it slowly up the curve of my calf until it’s resting just below the edge of my hose.
When I pull my hand from his, he drags his fingers higher up my leg, landing on the dagger sheathed at my thigh.
“Do you always wear this?” He runs a finger over the hilt, tracing the intricate patterns carved into the metal, lingering on the ruby-red gem, and my skin burns.
“Sort of a necessity in my line of work.”
He tilts his head up so his eyes meet mine. “How often do your clients try to take things too far?” There’s no judgment in his question, only curiosity, and maybe a hint of anger.
“Not often anymore. There are strict rules here at the club. And I have a reputation.” I flash him a wicked grin.
