“And now I’m going to have to eat my shoe.”
The image pleases me to no end. “Or I could just give you a seven-layer bar on the house,” I say, feeling a little like victory is mine.
She pffts. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll buy it. In fact, I’ll take a half dozen for the knitting club.”
“Coming right up,” I say, boxing up the bars and handing them to her.
She pays and harrumphs her way out.
“Turn around. Let me see that ass.”
Corbin huffs, like it costs him something to do my bidding in the suit shop. But he obliges. Slowly, he shifts, facing the other way so I can appraise the wine-colored suit, and I growl.
I might even roar.
“That is one fine backside,” I tell the hockey star as I admire the hell out of the way this suit is fitting him—hugging his thick thighs, worshipping his muscular ass, showing off his strong body.
When he faces me again, he gives me a satisfied smirk. “Glad you approve.”
“So much I want to take it off you,” I whisper.
He slides a hand down his face, muttering, “I can’t take you anywhere.”
Corbin returned home last night, and since Charlotte went to Sarah’s house this morning, this is the first time I’ve seen him. Aisha is closing up Afternoon Delight, so it’s just us here in the city, shopping via private appointment at Ruiz and Sons on a fancy stretch of Union Street.
Corbin’s gaze drifts to the owner of the shop, who’s working on his computer on the other side of the store. A small Mexican flag sits in a cup next to the screen. The man is giving us space, it seems. Corbin grabs my hand and jerks me against his hard body. “You sure you like it?”
I arch a brow. “Is this a gift for me?” I rub up against the outline of his erection.
“Unwrap it.”
I gasp.
But he just shrugs, cocky, kind of challenging.
I’m not sure if he means it though, and I’m both flustered and entirely turned on. But there’s nothing to be done about it, so I clear my throat. “Try on the blue plaid suit I picked out.”
“Whatever you want, Firecracker,” he says, his eyes traveling over me like he’s very happy to see me, before he shuts the door to the dressing room.
I try to clear the lust from my head as I wander around, perusing ties and shirts while the man behind the counter glances up, his close-cropped hair catching the light of the chandelier overhead. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“I’m all good, Mr. Ruiz.”
I return to Corbin as the dressing room door creaks open. He steps out, and wow.
“I love suits. I just do,” I say as I fan my face. The blue is rich, the pattern sharp, the fit perfect. All I want to do is push off the jacket, undo the buttons on the shirt, and strip off the pants.
He tilts his head, asking innocently, “Color gets you going?”
“Yes. It’s the color, Corbin,” I say, then fiddle with the lapels of the jacket even though I don’t need to. I just want to touch him. As I smooth them, his hands come down on mine, clasping them.
My breath hitches from the contact. From the strong press of his palms. And from the low, rumbly noise he makes.
I bite the corner of my lip.
His eyes blaze. They’re a darker shade of green than I’ve seen before. “You want me to get this suit?”
I nod. “This suit is a big yes. But so’s the wine-colored one.”
