That lasted five seconds.
He stopped dead in front of a mannequin in the men’s section. “Remarkable. The modern sculpture techniques are flawless. Look at the smoothness of the stone. Who is the artist?”
“That’s plastic,” I said.
He blinked. “The artist’s name is Plastic?”
I rubbed my temples. “No. It’s… never mind. Focus.”
Cristian moved down the row of clothing racks, studying every detail with quiet disapproval. “You want me to wear these fabrics?”
“Yes.”
“They look flimsy.”
“Welcome to fast fashion.”
He sighed. “Very well. Choose what you deem appropriate.”
I picked out jeans, a pair of slacks, some shirts, and underwear. He held up the last item between two fingers. “What purpose do these small garments serve?”
“They’re… necessary. Trust me.”
His expression remained skeptical, but he followed me to the changing rooms.
He stopped in front of the door. “You expect me to remove my clothes in a public building?”
“They’re private rooms,” I said. “No one will see you.”
“That seems optimistic.”
“Just try them on.”
The door closed. A few minutes later, it opened again, and my entire brain went offline.
Jeans. Light blue henley. Bare forearms.
He looked at me, waiting. “Does this look acceptable?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. Um. Perfect. That’s… fine.”
He turned slightly, testing the fabric. I pretended not to notice every muscle shifting under the shirt.
Two women across the aisle stopped mid-conversation. One whispered, “Oh my God.”
The other said, “That jawline should be illegal.”
I understood completely. Then I hated that I understood. My hands twitched at my sides, an involuntary little flare of something sharp and possessive.
He went back into the fitting room. When he came out again, he was wearing slacks and atightdark sweater with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked expensive. Composed. Like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread about brooding immortals with perfect hair.
“How do you evenknowhow to wear clothes?” I muttered.
He arched an eyebrow. “I have dressed myself before, believe it or not.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, a little too fast.
The tether between us hummed again, stronger this time. I felt it low in my stomach, heavy and distracting. I snatched a pair of shoes from the display and tossed them toward him before my brain could do something catastrophic, like push him back into the dressing room and make bad decisions.
