I don’t move. I’m mesmerized. I stare, my fingers curling into tight fists until I feel like I’m about to snap.
Deep down, I know what the prudent thing to do here is. I should find a short term rental for her, or even a hotel suite, and foot the bill. I should step away from the situation given the intensity of my wildly taboo attraction to her.
I also know that I’m not going to do that.
She hurries toward the car, and I’m going to hell for noticing the way her breasts bounce beneath her sweater dress as shemoves. My driver opens the door for her, and she slides in beside me. My blood heats when I catch the faintest whiff of that warm, floral smell.
“Hey,” she says, slightly breathless from her jog to the car.
My tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of my mouth. I can’t stop staring at her, and her cheeks go rosy under my gaze. Her eyes are sparkling, and I have the insane urge to ask her if she’s as happy to see me as I am her.
But I don’t. God, what the actual fuck is wrong with me?
“Hi,” I finally say, clearing my throat when the single syllable comes out all raspy. The car pulls away from the curb, maneuvering back into traffic, and I force myself to look out the window, as much as it pains me to not be looking at her when she’s right there.
The car moves through the city, eventually turning onto a street lined with sleek storefronts and elegant awnings.
“This…Um, I thought we were going to go to like…the mall,” she says, her knuckles white where her fingers are curled around the strap of her bag.
“I think we can do a little better than the mall, sweetheart.”
She swallows thickly. “It’s just that…” She trails off, chewing on her bottom lip.
“It’s just that what?”
“I don’t need to go anywhere fancy,” she says, but I can tell there’s more to it than that.
I lean back in my seat, studying her intently. “What’s the fun in being a billionaire if I can’t shop like one?”
An unreadable expression flickers across her face, and she shakes her head. “I just…maybe we should just go to the mall.”
“Camryn,” I say, waiting until her eyes flick up to mine. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” She presses her lips together, and I can see it now. The worry, the hurt, the fear shimmering in her eyes. “Most luxuryboutiques don’t carry my…my size. Most of them cut off at a 10 or a 12, and I’m…bigger than that.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “I’ve done my research. I’d never bring you somewhere that doesn’t have what you need, or put you in a situation that might make you feel embarrassed.”
A flush creeps up her neck, and she shifts in her seat. “I…I just…” She can’t seem to get the words out.
“Not that you have anything to be embarrassed about when it comes to your body,” I say, dropping my voice to a low murmur. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you. Every single curve. Absolutely stunning.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her lips parting. The air between us is suddenly thick, pulsing, charged.
I want to say more. I want to tell her how much her gorgeous curves arouse me. How the way her waist dips and flares makes me want to grip her hips as I pull her against me. How the thought of her in something that hugs every inch of her body makes my balls throb.
But I don’t.
Our eyes meet, hold, and her blush deepens, her chest rising and falling faster. And it’s both the best and the worst thing, because I now see with complete clarity that the attraction between us…it’s not one-sided.
But before I can fully process that, the car rolls to a stop at the curb, pulling up directly in front of Gild, one of Toronto’s most exclusive luxury boutiques. The glass windows showcase mannequins dressed in sleek blouses and glittering dresses. My driver opens the door for us, and I step out first, then turn, extending my hand to Camryn.
She hesitates, just for half a second, and then puts her hand in mine. Something in me settles at the contact, and I know I’m playing a dangerous game. She’s been back in in my life for lessthan twenty-four hours and I’m already unraveling in way that feels mildly illegal.
And yet, now that her hand’s in mine, I find myself wholly reluctant to let go. So I don’t as we walk toward the entrance, a doorman pulling open the glinting gold-plated door for us.
The interior of the boutique is lush, with polished wood floors, cream-coloured walls, and gilded crown molding lining the edges of the ceiling. A massive chandelier hangs in the middle of the space, and the clothes are displayed in recessed cream-and-gold alcoves, backlit and glowing softly. Accessories are displayed on dark wood tables, arranged thematically.
“It even smells expensive in here,” Camryn says softly, and I chuckle because she’s right. The air smells like cashmere and roses. Ambient music floats from a hidden speaker somewhere.
