“I was helping you,” he said quietly.
Amara let out a disbelieving laugh.
“That’s what all men say,” she shot back. “Pretend they’re helping, then suddenly the zipper is down and the woman’s dress is halfway off.”
The moment those words left her mouth, something changed in Elias’s expression.
The teasing vanished completely.
His eyes darkened.
Then he stepped toward her.
Amara instinctively stepped back until the backs of her knees brushed the couch.
Elias stopped directly in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.
“How many men,” he asked quietly, “have tried to pull your zipper down before?”
Amara blinked. “What?”
“Tell me.”
His voice had gone low and rough now.
Amara swallowed as she adjusted the slipping strap of her dress back onto her shoulder. But Elias’s eyes tracked the movement immediately, his gaze growing darker.
“How many?” he repeated. “Who tried to take your dress off before me?”
“That’s—”
“Who was it?” he cut in instantly. “Did you have someone before me?”
He stepped even closer until she could feel the heat pouring off his body again.
“Who touched you?” he asked in a low voice. “Who told you to undress for them?”
His eyes searched her face intensely.
“Who tried to unzip your dress?”
Amara’s lips pressed into a thin line.
For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then she straightened on her feet, smoothing a hand over her dress as though completely unbothered by the storm raging in front of her.
One brow lifted slightly.
“How many did I tell you there were?” she asked casually.
Then, as if she had already lost interest in the conversation, she tried to move around him and walk away.
She barely made one step.
Elias immediately moved into her path again.
The look on his face was almost unbelievable—shock mixed with jealousy and something dangerously close to offense. Like she had personally shattered something inside him.
“You told me I was the only one!” he said immediately.
