“Do you need help with anything?” I asked somewhat nicely.
He smiled. “I think youcouldhelp me, Tori.”
I gasped, his cologne snaking down my throat.
He actually knew my name? I thought women were all just pigeons to him. Annoying, flighty things that got in his way, like I had today.
But maybe I could help him.
I gestured to the thong. “Would you like to try that on?”
Angel widened his eyes, then burst out laughing, a warm shock to the chest.
I bit back a smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
He wiped his face. “I didn’t realize you thought so ‘little’ of me, pidge. I’d need a much bigger size than this, lots of stretch.” He drew out the elastic in front of his waist in an obscene gesture that lit my imagination on fire.
My mind filled with the image of tight, tiny underwear strained over a big, erect dick. Angel would be playing with the string waistband, waiting to spring himself free for whoever begged the prettiest.
But that wouldn’t be me.
I tore my gaze away and threw the undies in the bin, my cheeks hot.
“So, what do you want?” I asked. I didn't have all day to play games.
“I need you,” he said, clasping my hand.
“Me?” My pulse jumped. I must've misheard him.
He smiled thinly and guided me deeper into the store. “Come on. I want to try something.”
“It better not be the underwear,” I said, stumbling after him.
If I didn’t sell him that thong, I’d have to burn it.
Chapter two
Perfume
Angel led me to the perfume display with its mirrored tabletop and glistening bottles. “I’m in the market for some perfume, pidge. Let’s try this one on your wrist,” he said, lifting my knuckles almost as if he intended to kiss them.
I yanked my hand back and clutched my fist over my racing heart. “Why can’t you wear it?”
“I'm already wearing cologne.” He opened his arms, inviting me to bask in his aroma.
That’d be a bad idea.Best to keep my distance lest he think I liked him.
“We could spray it in the air. Or on a strip of paper,” I said, gesturing to our sample kits.
“The scent would change based on body chemistry. Remember Bio-Chem? I need this on a woman,” he said.
The suggestion pinched my brain and my gut. Technically, he was right. And here I thought he’d slept through half his classes.
“It might smell different on your girlfriend,” I mumbled, rolling up my sleeves.
“Who said I have a girlfriend?” He gently clasped the underside of my upturned hand, the fine hairs on my body prickling to attention.
He didn’t have a girlfriend?
