Chapter 8
SABLE
"I know you don't want to do this," I said to Woody as I worked my way through the rack of dresses.
Hopefully I'd find something here in Amalie's boutique. A tailor would take too long to make the dress Forrest described. The good ones were booked out months in advance, if not longer.
"Who says I don't?" Woody leaned against the window, his shoulder on the pane. His gaze slid up and down the street and around the store. Every muscle in his body was taut and ready.
"You don't strike me as the sort of person who enjoys dress shopping," I said. Or shopping of any kind, even online.
"Is this where you insult my wardrobe?" he asked, glancing down at himself. "I like to be comfortable." His dark jeans, fitted t-shirt, and leather jacket looked exactly that, but timeless at the same time. Very Woody.
"There's nothing wrong with your wardrobe," I said, sliding another dress along the rack for a better look. Pressing my lips together at the price on the swing tag. It was enough to feed a family of four for a year. I made a note to make another donation to a worthy charity. Or three.
"Damn right there isn't," Woody said. "I'll leave the expensive suits to Forrest and Leif."
"I bet you own a suit." I looked at him over the raw silk fabric. "I bet you look good in it too."
He leaned over and said, "I look even better out of it."
Goosebumps rose on my skin as his breath brushed the back of my neck.
"I've noticed."
Was he going to talk about what happened earlier this afternoon at some point? He got me off, then ran out of there like a dog with his tail between his legs. Gotten himself off in my shower. What was he so scared of?
"Of course you have. That one's not good enough for you." He nodded towards the dress before taking it out of my hand and sliding it forward.
"I didn't know you were an expert in women's clothes." I looked at him sideways.
"I'm not. I know what won't look good on you," he said. "That one would look like a tent."
"I'm not sure it's that bad," I said with a laugh. I moved on to the next one anyway. He was right, it wouldn't have suited my body shape.
"Which one would you suggest?" I asked.
He stepped over beside me and started to look through the rack. He dismissed dress after dress before handing me one in dark green.
"That looks nothing like what Forrest had in mind," I said.
"Fuck Forrest." Woody grunted. "Try it on." He held it out to me, a challenging look in his eyes.
I pretended I was going to argue, but then took the dress and stepped over to the fitting room. I gave him a quick look before closing the door behind me.
"No peeking."
I caught his smirk right before the door shut.
Hanging the dress on a hanger on the wall, I started working my way out of my clothes, placing everything carefully in a folded pile on a chair in the corner. I unhooked my bra and placed it on top of the pile before stepping into the dress and pulling it up over myself.
He had a good eye, it was perfect for me. Not to mention it would do exactly what Forrest described.
"It looks nice," I called out. "I'm going to need your help to zip it up."
"Of course you do."
The handle turned slowly and the door swung open. He stuck his head inside and looked up and down. His eyes darkened.
"Like what you see?" I asked, swishing the skirt back and forth.
"You're all right." He shrugged one shoulder and stepped into the fitting room, closing the door behind him. "Turn around."
I stood with my back to him, gaze on my reflexion as he stood behind me. He took the sides of the dress from my hand and held them while slowly pulling the zipper up, his knuckles brushing against my skin. Calloused and oh so slow.
"It's a perfect fit." I appraised myself. "Better than I thought it would be."
He placed his hands on my hips. "I missed my calling. I should have been one of those guys on Say Yes to the Dress."
"I can see it now. Say Yes to the Dress, New York. Starring Woody…" I trailed off, stopping short of saying his last name. It didn't come with good memories. Honestly, not taking Wolfgang's name was one of my better life choices.
"He was an asshole, wasn't he?" Woody said, his eyes still on my reflexion.
I didn't need to ask who he was referring to. We both knew.
"Yeah, he was," I said. "You were better off without him in your life." That might not be my call to make, but I wasn't wrong. No one should grow up with a father like that.
"You're better off without him in yours, aren't you?" Why did he look sad?
"I'm definitely better off without him," I said without hesitation. "What they did…" I didn't mention Harlow and Archer by name. "They did me a favor."
Was he going to get angry again? Start trying to kill them? He seemed resigned instead, as if he finally understood his father got what he deserved. He didn't like it, but he understood it.
"Was he around when you were a kid?" I asked gently.
A frown flickered across his face.
"Not really. I remember a birthday, a Christmas here and there. Mostly he'd come in, look at me like I was a piece of shit, then leave again."
"But you wanted him to stay," I said. "You wanted him to be a father."
"We don't always get what we want."
"Sometimes we get what we need." Being as far away from his father as he could get was definitely something Woody needed, even if he didn't accept it yet.
Relationships were complicated, especially with our parents. Mine were almost as disappointing as his. What would have happened if they gave me more of their time when I was growing up? I could have ended up like them. Hard no fucking thank you.
"Sometimes we want things we can't have," Woody said, stroking his thumb over my hip.
"Sometimes we can have things, but we don't let ourselves take them," I said meaningfully.
He leaned forward until his chin was almost resting on my shoulder. "After what I did to you, you should have grabbed one of the ties off the rack out there and strangled me with it."
I smiled. "Who says I'm not planning to do that as soon as we're finished in here?"
"You probably should," he sighed softly. "I might not put up a fight."
"Of course you'll put up a fight," I said. "There's no way you're going to let someone strangle you with a silk tie."
"Because I'm too lowbrow for that?" His reflexion raised an eyebrow at me. "You think a rope or an electrical cable would be more appropriate?"
"No, I think your survival instincts are stronger than you're suggesting," I said. "Otherwise a silk tie would be appropriate. Preferably one in bright colors with cartoon characters on them."
He laugh-grunted, then slid his hands down lower, cupping my ass.
"Maybe I'm the one about to do the strangling." One hand still on my ass, he wrapped the other around my throat, his long fingers gripping firmly.
A flutter of surprise passed through me, but no more than that.
Should I be scared? Possibly. Instead I was turned on as hell.
"Don't wrap your hand around my throat unless you mean it," I said, my voice husky.
He swallowed and his eyes darkened further. "You should be kneeing me in the groin."
"I can if you want me to," I said. "But I'll probably impale my knee on your cock." I wriggled my ass against the front of his jeans, feeling him harden between the layers of fabric.
He groaned. "If you keep doing that…"
"There you go with that lack of self-control again," I scolded. "I think you have more of it than you're letting on." I wriggled against him again.
"I really don't," he said, pushing his ass out so his cock was out of reach. "You deserve better."
"Better than fucking in a fitting room?" I asked over my shoulder.
"Better than me." He stepped back to the door and closed his eyes. "That first night when I came after you, I was going to kill you. If it wasn't for Forrest, I would have."
He said the words, but the certainty wasn't there. Maybe he would have killed me, and maybe he would have scared me and left. I wasn't sure if he knew what really would have happened.
"I know that was the plan, but you didn't," I said. "You weren't going to let me die in that house, were you?"
He opened his eyes just a little. "I don't know. I guess I would have got you out. You were starting to grow on me at the time."
"I'm flattered," I said sarcastically. "Maybe I do deserve you."
"Nah, you're better than that." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
"Is that why you walked away earlier? Because you don't think you're good enough for me?”
"I'm not good enough for you," he said. Now the certainty was there.
"You want to be good enough, don't you?" I ask. He was as reluctant to walk away from this as I was. Crazy as it seemed, there was a connection between us, a bond. One that had been stretched to its limits, but hadn't broken.
"Sounds like a lot of hard work," he muttered.
I sniffed. "You really do know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?"
He smirked. "I wouldn't have a fucking clue. Never cared to before."
He stalked back over to me, took hold of the zipper and eased it down.
The dress slid down my shoulders and landed in a pool at my feet. Before it could get too wrinkled, I stepped out of it, snatched it up and placed it back on the hanger.
He appraised my reflexion. My bare breasts and lacy black thong. I made no attempt to cover myself.
"You look better out of that dress." He gripped my shoulders, turned me around and pressed me down to the other chair beside the one that held my clothes. He knelt in front of me and parted my thighs. Eyes on me, he pulled the front of my panties aside and grazed his fingers over my entrance.
"Are you always so wet or is it just when I'm around?" he asked.
"You seem to have that effect on me," I said, holding back a groan. The whole store didn't need to hear.
He leaned down to place his face between my thighs and drew in a long breath. "You smell so fucking good." He flicked out his tongue, barely touching my clit. It was enough to send a full body shiver all the way through me.
"I'm not going to fuck you until I'm worthy of you," he whispered. "But I'm going to taste you."
He lapped at me again. With one hand, he palmed my nipple, making it hard. With the other, he spread my arousal around my pussy before sliding a couple of fingers inside me.
I bit my lip to hold back a groan, my hands on the chair on either side of me. Knuckles white, I held on while I rocked my hips against his face, my breasts bouncing with each movement.
"You taste incredible," he said between licks. He fastened his lips on my clit and sucked, working me inside and out until I came, holding back a cry as best I could. Shattering into uncountable pieces spread across a million universes.
I came back to Earth as one of the store assistants knocked on the door.
"Is everything okay in there?" she called out, in a cheerful tone.
I fought back a laugh, cleared my throat and called back. "Everything is perfect. Thank you."
Woody smirked and wiped a hand over the back of his mouth. "You're going to buy that dress, then we'll get some dinner and take it back to your place."
"Right." That reminded me why we were meeting Forrest and Leif back at my apartment. If they found Savannah, they would have called. The lack of a call didn't mean they hadn't made progress in the last hour or so.
Had they found a way to sell me?