“I insist,” he says, handing me the amazing garment.
I head into the small changing booth he directs me to, take off my shirt and bra, and loosen the back ties on the corset. My breath quickens as the skin on my back warms where I sense his gaze trailing down my spine despite the opaque fabric of the makeshift changing area.
I slip the corset on, buckle up the front, and adjust my breasts into the high cups. Even without it being pulled tight, it’s stunning and damn, I’ll admit, I look hot in it.
“I’d love to see you, Lieshe,” Luke calls, caressing my name with his silver tongue. It feels deliciously sinful. I come out, feeling a little shy until I see his face light up.
“Belle fille.You look incredible. I would love to see the full effect. Come, stand in front of the mirror and I’ll pull your laces,” he replies. How does every word that falls from his lips sound like a sexual proposition?
I follow his command, watching how his eyes follow the path of his fingertips as they ghost up my arms. Despite the lightness, his touch blazes a trail of fire along my skin. The stark contrast between the inferno that is Luke and the cool air of the expo center raises goosebumps on my exposed flesh.
His eyes lock on mine in the mirror as he traces his fingers across my exposed collarbones and up my neck to take a braid in each hand. He pulls them in front of my shoulders, running his hands sensuously down their length, only to wind them around his wrists.
I’m shocked the mirror doesn’t melt under the combined power of our heated stare. Luke bites his bottom lip, and with a wink, releases himself from the bondage of my braids, letting them hang back down the front of my body.
Luke Devlin should be illegal.
He moves his hands behind me and proceeds to pull the laces from the top and then the bottom, making quick and practiced work of lacing me into this Victorian deathtrap. The corset was already flattering, but as he finishes tightening it, I know I’m buying both pieces, no matter the cost.
The corset comes down low in the center and pushes my breasts up high and full. My waist appears narrow compared to my hips, giving me the illusion of Victorian perfection. The buckles down the front add some steam punk flair, but I could certainly wear it for other events.
“Tu es magnifique.If you had something to hold on to, I could make this so tight you could scarcely breathe,” he whispers like a promise, words tickling my ear with his closeness. His yellow-green gaze meets mine again in the mirror, mesmerizing me. It reminds me of the jungle story and its hypnotic snake.
I lose myself in his strangely colored gaze, noting the striking similarity between the color of his eyes and the splash of color in mine. I’ve never seen anyone with amber eyes like mine and certainly not with the odd yellow-green color, and now in the span of a week, I’ve met two men who match my eyes exactly. What a strange coincidence.
My overactive imagination conjures Luke pulling the laces tighter and tighter and my breath coming shorter and shorter, as if I am indeed trapped in the coils of the literary python. He ties off the laces at my waist in an elaborate knot and rests his hands on my flared hips, snapping my focus back to the present where I am free to breathe.
My gaze drops to his too familiar touch, taking in the painted black nails and scattering of rings across his fingers. Another raven’s skull, like his belt buckle, but this one carved of black stone, covers almost his entire pointer finger.
I meet his eyes again in our reflection, and his lips curve up wickedly, like the cat who swallowed the canary. And I am quite certain I am the canary.
“It seems a shame to cover beauty such as this,” he says as he helps me back into the overcoat.
I can’t help but smile at myself in the mirror as he compliments me. The two pieces together are stunning.
“Wow. This is just perfect, Luke. Thank you.”
I want to believe that he is just one hell of a salesperson almost as much as I want to pretend that he has no effect on me. But my traitorous body isn’t listening.
Luke induces a strange combination of intense arousal oddly tinged with mild disorientation and fatigue. Like spending the day at a carnival riding the rides and eating all the treats. I’m sure it’s just the frantic pace I’ve set for myself with so much travel.
No wonder I had another dream episode with all this excitement and the rotten night’s sleep I had last night. I am surprised by a sudden jaw cracking yawn but thankful it breaks the building sexual tension. Does he feel it, too, or is this just who he is, beauty dripping with confidence and smoldering sexuality?
I laugh behind my hand as I cover my enormous yawn and say, “Excuse me, it’s certainly not the company. Just a long night followed by an exciting day. I can’t wait to wear this outfit. Thank you for your help.”
“I’d love to see you in it again. What are your plans for this stunning beauty?” His eyes twinkle with mischief.
“I wanted a new outfit for the steampunk Poe convention in Baltimore. Will you be there? I'm sure you would make bank at the market.”
He smiles his feline smile and responds, “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“I guess I’ll see you again, then.” Must be the corset making me sound so breathy.
“J'ai hâte, mon petit chou,” he says with a small bow. “Until we meet again.”
“I should get changed,” I murmur, melting in response to his French yet again.
As I take a step back toward the changing booth, I’m brought up short. His hand feels like hot steel circling my wrist and the image of Luke restraining me in handcuffs flashes bright in my mind.
