Page 144 of Reign

“I’m still dressed.”

“I’m aware.”

His eyes return to mine.

“Don’t rush, princesa.” His voice lowers. “I want to enjoy this.”

His eyes leave mine.

They make one slow sweep of my body, traveling from my shoulders to the hem of my dress and down the length of my bare legs. I feel their path like something warm sliding across my skin.

Most men would linger over my breasts or the amount of thigh beneath my skirt.

Luciano’s eyes return to my face.

They stay there, studying the heat spreading across my cheeks, the shallow rise and fall of my chest, every tiny reaction I’m trying to hide.

Apparently, watching me feel his attention is the part he likes to enjoy.

The silence stretches.

I last as long as any reasonable woman could.

“Do you want to help me get undressed?”

A quiet chuckle leaves him. “You lasted almost a full minute.”

“I thought we agreed my suffering has been heroic.”

He rises from the chair. “Turn around.”

Excitement skips through my stomach.

I face away from him and sweep my hair over one shoulder. His footsteps cross the space behind me, slow enough to make me aware of every one.

He stops close. His cologne wraps around me first, followed by the warmth of his body.

His fingertips brush my nape.

A shiver slips down my spine as he finds the zipper and begins lowering it. The quiet rasp seems impossibly loud in the room. Cool air follows the path of his fingers, but his knuckles graze enough exposed skin to leave heat behind.

He hooks one finger beneath each strap and eases them over my shoulders. The dress loosens, whispering down my body until it gathers around my feet.

Thank God I wore the pale-purple lace.

I almost chose the plain cotton set this morning.

Excellent instincts, Elena.

Luciano steps away.

I resist the urge to look over my shoulder as he returns to the armchair. Leather shifts beneath his weight, and then the room falls quiet again.

“Turn for me.”

I step out of the dress pooled around my feet and I face him, but his circling finger makes it clear he means more than that.

So I give him a slow spin, modeling the lingerie as if standing half-naked in his bedroom was my idea all along.