1
AMARA
All of Ransome Rozanov’s shirts look good on him.
But this one is my favorite.
When he puts this one on, the Armani silk runs sleek and smooth over his broad chest, showcasing just how much time he spends in the gym. How many presses he is capable of doing with those pecs. How much ass he could kick if he really wanted to.
Not that he would. Ransome, my Ransome, is a gentleman. Hence the Armani dress shirts. He has over fifty of them in his penthouse closet. White for everyday wear. Endless shades of blues and reds for fancier occasions, occasions where he just might tempt the world with a smidge, a hint, a tease, a quarter of his red-hot smirk, which is something he doesn’t offer easily.
He saves the black for serious occasions.
Fuck me, he looks good in the black.
That’s probably why, in all of my…less than professional… moments with Ransome, he is wearing the black. It justdoesthings to me. A wall of black silk as he stalks across the room, eyes zeroed in on me, jaw taut, no sign of that quarter-smirk in sight. When he’s wearing the black, he means business and he gets what he wants. No—takeswhat he wants. And it always, always ends with that black dress shirt on the floor, right next all of my clothes and my inhibitions.
Right now, though, it’s just me. No Ransome anywhere. I do have his shirt, though. As I wake up to the sound ofKiller Queenset as my phone alarm, I press my nose to the shirt and inhale his scent.
Ahhh,perfection. As always.
This one happens to be white. I took the liberty of snagging it out of his closet the last time I was organizing his suits.
I chose the white to sleep in because it’s the sultriest. While it fitshimperfectly, it’s a dress on me. I don’t mind at all—I like being swaddled in him, his fabric, his smell, his things.
That’s why I love wearing it to sleep. I can smell him all night long, even after he goes to work. I can imagine he never left the bed.
And when I stumble out of bed in the morning, making my way to the shower, phone and coffee mug in hand, the first thing I see is my own reflection in my body mirror, wearing his shirt.
Wearing him.
Ownedby him.
Just like it ought to be.
But I’m running late already and it’s a busy day, so I can’t lie around in bed and dream of Ransome. My phone is buzzingwith a cacophony of alerts, notifications, messages, emails and reminders, all of which need my attention.
So I shower quickly. Shampoo, condition, and—shoot, I’m out of my usual body wash. But my sister Eliza left some of hers behind last time she stayed over here, so I squirt some of that in my hand instead.Jasmine/Rose/Patchouli Blend,it says. It smells more floral than I’d usually go for, but that’s going to have to suffice. I’m already late, after all.
I shave in a hurry. I shave everything every day. Not one hair is out of place when I am around Ransome. He likes things neat. And I like when he’s satisfied.
It thrills me to satisfy him.
I pick up the dress shirt and hang it in my closet—away from my own clothes so the smell stays uniquely him. I wonder if he realizes I stole it. Ransome is a very detail-oriented man. He knows exactly how many white shirts he has in his closet and sooner or later, he’ll notice if he is missing one.
For that, I would be punished, no doubt…
The very thought of it makes my thighs tingle and my nipples perk up.
“Focus, Amara,” I scold myself as I slip into a black matching lace panty and bra set. I go for a black dress today, with a gold zipper. It’s medium thigh length, though the bunching in the back makes it appear a little shorter.
It also makes my ass look great, if I do say so myself.
I curl my hair because flouncy looks good with this dress. A little fun with the formal, right? I apply my eyelashes and the rest ofmy makeup. Just enough blush to make me look flushed. Just enough gloss to give me a pout.
I bite my lip a lot. It started as a nervous habit because the butterflies I get around Ransome are hard to distinguish from regular old anxiety. But when I noticed it makes his jaw tense in the corners, I started doing it more. I think it makes him think of me. Of what he can do to me.
It also makesmethink of what he can do to me.
