13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
C ARLY
Micah’s stunned jaw-drop was gratifying at first, but now it’s starting to disconcert me.
He’s been staring at me wordlessly for what feels like hours even though it’s probably just seconds. His emerald-colored eyes continuously crawl down the length of the silky red dress to the heels on my feet, and then they crawl back up just as slowly.
When he reaches the point where the fabric clings to the swell of my hips, he licks his lips. Like someone just offered him a tempting feast.
I’m wearing a simple floor-length gown with a boatneck Audrey Hepburn bodice, form-fitting skirt except for a slight mermaid flair, and gemstones in a flamelike pattern from the hem of the dress up to the knee.
Does it look bad? Or do I look so good that he’s struck him speechless?
Something tells me it’s the latter.
As evidenced by his stare when his eyes finally reach mine.
The green is glowing, his gaze scorching hot.
Heat explodes through my entire body in response, quickening my pulse, and awakening lust that had been simmering till now. Anticipation races through me. I’m immediately struck by the memories of that night together in the alley parking lot and then in his car.
I want that. Want him again.
I exhale to rid myself of the lustful thought and I think I hear the growl echo in his chest.
“So…” The attendant’s loud voice breaks the silence. She looks between the two of us, clearly oblivious to the sexual tension thickening the air. “Do you like it? Or do we try on more?”
“I like it,” Micah finally responds, his voice deeper than it was before. “But let’s try more. More like this. But also more... different.” Contrary to his usual eloquence, his words are now short and clipped as though he has to make an effort to get them out, to have them make sense.
As though he’s just barely winning against the desire stealing his sanity.
“Alright.” The attendant, instantly seeing dollar signs, immediately heads to the other side of the store, selecting more outfits, hanging on a rack. “We’ll have to get a few of these tailor-made to fit your gorgeous figure, and that can all be done and shipped to your address within a few days.”
“Oh?” I make a mental note to have it shipped to Micah instead. I shudder to think of what my mom would do if these were to show up at my doorstep.
“Yes, of course,” she continues. “We also have a few pieces from the new haute couture collections. These haven’t officially hit the shelves or the runway yet, so they’re still samples, but we get ahead of the waitlist due to our long and illustrious history with various designers. For example, this Vivienne Westwood.” She takes the dress off the hanger, adds it to the pile in her arms, and then points. “Chanel.” She takes that one too. “And of course, the lovely St. Laurent.”
“Um…” As the pile grows, I start to get worried. It’s going to be a lot trying all that on. Also, it’s all starting to get very… expensive. I’ve never bought a designer piece in my entire life but I at least know how much stuff like that costs. And I doubt that anything hanging over her elbow is under a thousand dollars.
As she continues to add to that number, I figure we’re quickly edging toward fifty grand easily.
I glance at Micah expecting him to put a stop to it at any moment now, but he’s distracted staring at the jewelry in the pristine glass display cases in front of the store. He’s talking to the other attendant, pointing and having her bring something out.
He’s buying me jewelry too? Oh, this is too much. We’re going to blow a hundred thousand dollars on shopping if we’re not careful.
But before I can protest, the friendly woman blocks my view with her blinding smile, hooks her arms through mine, and says, “Let’s try on these before we get some more.”
With a weak smile, I succumb to peer pressure and let her drag me away again.
I don’t make it through the whole pile. After trying on the first dozen pieces, I’m exhausted. Not only from trying it on but from the discourse that ensues after. The attendant, Lacey, is very thorough and attentive, and wants to discuss how I feel in the dress, how movable it is, if I want to adjust or loosen anything, if I want more detailing, what shoes will complement the dress…
On the one hand, it’s almost touching to be treated with such consideration. Most of my experience shopping at higher-end stores–not this high end, obviously, but higher than Marshall’s–as a curvier woman is that a lot of things don’t fit me quite right. But for some reason, this woman has a lot of things in my size and is very conscientious about how they fit. I don’t know how Micah found this store, but it’s really a godsend and if I ever become a billionaire, I know where to shop.
However, it’s also exhausting having so much attention on me.
After about an hour passes, I finally step out of the dressing room for hopefully the last time and say, “Micah I think we have enough–holy moly, what are you doing?”
There are gift boxes lined up in stacks on the counter, nearly reaching the ceiling. Micah gives me an innocent look. “What?”
“Did you buy all that?”
He glances at the pile consideringly and then turns to me and says, “Yeah.”
“For me?”
“Yup. With one or two matching pieces for myself, so we can wear them together.”
I shake my head, utterly stunned. “How did you even find that many things to buy?”
“Well, it’s easy. I saw this one bangle and I really liked it and wasn’t sure whether to get it in gold or silver. I mean you’re pretty neutral-toned, but I think silver looks best on you. Nevertheless, you really can’t beat gold for quality so I just got the bracelet in both. And then they had one with diamond stud detailing so I bought that too. And then there were matching earrings. And a necklace that would also go well with it.” He shrugs. “It all kind of spiraled from there.”
How on earth does it spiral from that into what looks to be about fifty pieces of jewelry?
“Okay, we’ll... discuss that later. I think I’ve tried on enough dresses.”
“Good.” He glances at the attendant behind me. “Make the necessary adjustments and send them all to my condo. The address is on file.”
“Micah, I truly don’t need all of them.”
“You don’t like them?” he says. “Alright. We can keep looking if you want. I know a few other stores we can try too.”
“No, I don’t want to keep looking.” I may never want to try on another piece of clothing for the rest of my life. “The dresses are fine. I just don’t need that many.”
Micah gives me a look. “You realize we’ll be attending more than just a few events together, right? And you won’t be allowed to repeat outfits with them.”
“Yes, but…” I glance at the woman who’s still standing there eyeing us hopefully. After she’s caught, she immediately moves back behind the counter, to give us some privacy.
I move closer to whisper, “Micah, that’s a lot of stuff. A lot of very expensive stuff.”
Micah simply gives me a bemused expression. “Just who do you think you’re talking to right now?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re a billionaire, but it’s just… I’m not used to owning this much stuff. What if I lose it?”
“It’s yours. You can lose it if you want.”
I frown. “You mean I keep it after our deal?”
“Yeah.” Micah seems even more bemused, with a touch of offense. “What, did you think I was going to take it back?”
“Well…”
“Okay, now I’m feeling a little insulted. Babe, it’s a gift. All this is a gift. You can take it, lose it, keep it, toss it away, donate it, wipe your ass with it… whatever you want. It’s all yours to do with as you wish.”
I stare at him, fighting the urge to protest. Deep inside, I know I’m probably overreacting. Micah is a wealthy billionaire from a very affluent family, and spending money like this is probably nothing to him.
But that little girl who insists on not needing anyone, the one who’s trying to make it on her own to prove everyone wrong, is rejecting this with everything inside me.
Micah seems to understand because his expression becomes softer. “You don’t get a lot of gifts, do you?”
It’s not said in a mean way. In fact, it’s said in the nicest way possible but somehow that hint of pity strikes a sensitive part of me and makes me jump on the defensive.
“I receive plenty of gifts,” I say tersely, and it’s true. I’ve spent too many birthdays with loved ones, receiving thoughtful handcrafted jewelry or paintings from Emma, my own fishing pole from Grandpa, and books from Mrs. Peach. They may not be as expensive, sure, but those are the gifts that truly matter, not overpriced dresses. “But I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can accept this from you.”
“Why not?”
“We barely know each other. And once our deal is over, I won’t even know what to do with them.”
“Sell them.”
“That’s too much money on top of everything else you’re already giving me. I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Micah watches me closely. His gaze feels so perceptive that I duck my head to avoid it. It feels too much like he can see through me.
“We can just go shopping whenever we need a new outfit,” I say. “After all, we’re not sure how long this is going to last.”
Micah pouts. “But then I may not even get to see you try it on. And I haven’t seen you in these either.”
“Micah…”
“Please.” His voice is suddenly serious, surprising my eyebrows into my scalp. “Please. I really, really want to see you in these dresses.”
Micah strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn’t use the “p word” a lot. Especially with that expression, so lacking his normal brand of humor. He’s dead serious now. And I don’t know how to deal with it.
It makes me falter. It makes my heart stumble in a way that scares me and I have to tear my gaze away.
“Fine,” I say.
“You’ll try it on for me?” He walks closer surrounding me with his scent, bringing his body flush against mine.
“Sure.” I can’t look at his eyes. Not with him so close. Not only is his scent spiking the desire inside me, but my heart is reacting dangerously.
Especially when he leans down and kisses my forehead. “Good girl.”
Shit. The words send my heartbeat into overdrive.
And I don’t understand why, this weird reaction to him.
As we drive home, it’s not just me that’s lost in my thoughts. Micah is also quieter than usual. Per his insistence, I’m still wearing one of the dresses I got from the store, the red one that I tried on first. Micah stared at me when I wore it again, his look telling me everything I needed to know.
The atmosphere is tense with thoughts and unspent desire. I feel the urge to break the silence, at least to distract myself.
“How did you find this store anyway?” I ask. “Frankly, I didn’t even know mainstream designers make samples in my size.”
“They don’t when you’re a regular person,” he says. “When you have the means and the contacts, you can get anything you want in any size you want. The owner of the store is a millionaire so she gets the samples in whatever size she wants.”
“Ah. So that’s how you discovered it? Through the owner?”
“Nope. I dated a woman once and this was her favorite store.”
“Really? How nice.” There’s an odd note in my voice. I guess I don’t like hearing about the girls he dates.
“Jealous?” he teases.
“No,” I say, with the same odd note and he laughs.
“I don’t even remember her name if it makes you feel better. Just that she brought me here a few times to shop.”
It really doesn’t. Because pretty soon I’ll be the girl whose name he doesn’t remember too.
More tumultuous feelings arise at that realization and they last even as Micah takes me up to his penthouse in Bel Air.
It’s at the top of a luxury hotel and when we arrive, I greet the elderly doorman with a friendly smile and he grins back and then winks at Micah. “Owee. I know you do well with the ladies, Mr. Landing, but you really got a smokeshow tonight. If I were twenty years younger, I would try to steal her from you.”
“You would have gotten a black eye for your trouble. Don’t stare too hard at my woman, Patrick,” Micah teases.
Patrick chuckles. “Or what? You’re going to kick an old man’s ass, boss?”
“No, I’m going to call your wife and let her do it for me.”
I blush at the man’s compliments, and his hearty laughter follows us to the elevators.
When we get up to the topmost floor, Micah enters a code into the keypad, letting me into the large, art deco living room and then I have a sudden thought.
In times of confusion, turn it back to what you know.
Sex.
Once we get into the house I don’t waste time. I kiss him, deeply.
And promptly find my back pressed against the wall.
Micah groans into my mouth as he swallows the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine. His hand clutches the back of my hair, a note of desperation in his touch that tells me he’s been thinking about this as long as I have.
That he’s wanted to do this all day too.
I fling my mind to the wind and wrap my arms around his neck. Once again, I cease to care about anyone or anything else. Just the taste of him, like wine and sin. The scent of him, strong, solid, and spicy. The feel of him, hard and relentless.
He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. It’s crazy how easily he carries me. He walks with me too, a few steps until, suddenly, my back is against a plush couch.
His arms grip my thighs, forcing them open, ripping off my panties.
And then with a dragged-out curse, his lips are suddenly on my pussy.