Chapter 17 #2
The curtain parts, and Reese steps out in black satin.
Clean lines, cut close to her body, the sheen catching the light.
I’ve seen women parade in every kind of lingerie over the years, trying to butter me up, convince me to stay a little longer.
Corsets, garters, lace contraptions meant to shock or awe.
None of them looked like this.
Now I understand the fuss.
Her dark waves skim her chin, falling in soft layers that make her look like she stepped straight out of old Hollywood—every inch of her timeless, untouchable glamour. The silk frames the rest of her like a damn masterpiece—her spine long and elegant, her skin begging to be touched.
I rise, circling behind her, and lift the strap up her shoulder with my knuckle.
Goosebumps erupt in its wake. My lips graze her temple, a soft brush that lingers just long enough before I murmur, “This one screams class. Caviar and champagne. A man would see you like this and know he’d have to bleed for a taste. ”
She clears her throat and screws up her mouth at her reflection, eyes snagging on flaws only she can see. “I told you, it doesn’t look right.”
I press a kiss to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, slow enough that she shivers. “You look luscious. Bring on the next course.”
A small laugh flits past her lips. “You really want me to keep doing this?”
Is she kidding? I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“Oh, yes,” I murmur, my voice low and certain. “Yes, I do.”
“Fine.” She huffs out a breath and vanishes behind the curtain.
A few minutes tick by before I hear another muffled curse. “I am not coming out in this. No way. It covers nothing.”
I bite back a groan. Covers nothing —music to my fucking ears. “Now you have to.”
“Griffin—”
“You either come out,” I warn, “or I’m coming in.”
The curtain twitches. Her head pokes out, eyes wide.
“Drop the damn curtain, Reese.”
She groans and screws her eyes shut. “Fine. But you asked for it.”
The fabric swishes back, my jaw goes slack, and my cock begs for mercy.
Holy hell. This isn’t lingerie—it’s transparency with a price tag. Thin lace clings to her, satin straps framing her curves, but every inch is visible beneath the sheer fabric. Every swell, every dip, all of her laid out for me.
I cross the room in two strides and pull her flush against me, my hands flattening on her stomach, my thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts.
“This one,” I growl against her ear, “is you bent over my table, my hand in your hair, me fucking you deep and slow until you can’t breathe.
Not the first time, no.” My thumbs drag higher, brushing over her nipples through the lace.
Hard already, begging for my mouth. “The tenth. The hundredth. When you already know you’re mine, and when you realize you’re the only one who can bring me to my knees. ”
Her breath shudders, body trembling against me. “Do you want me to try on the other one?”
My grin widens as my hands slide down from her breasts, tracing the curve of her waist, over her stomach, and settling hard on her hips. “Yeah. Absolutely. I told you, I’m having the time of my life.”
Her laugh wobbles. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”
I tighten my grip, my mouth grazing her ear. “Believe it. This is only the beginning. I plan to make a religion out of you.”
That does it. Her breathing stumbles as a flush of color rushes over her skin.
Perfect. Just the reaction I want.
The curtain swings shut again, and I’m left alone with the sound of fabric sliding over her skin.
My pulse roars in my ears. My cock strains against my jeans, so hard it feels like it’s about to snap in two.
I grip the arm of the chair until the wood groans, arguing with myself like a madman. One tug on that curtain. One step inside. I could rip those last scraps away and take her raw, right here, until neither of us can breathe.
I squeeze my eyes shut, dragging in air through my teeth.
Not yet, man. Not like this. Not with her.
I’ve had more sex in the last year than most men get in a lifetime. A fucking dream, right? That’s what most guys would think.
But I never wanted any of them. It was a job. A means to an end.
I’d damn near forgotten what it felt like to ache for someone until the day Reese arrived at the ranch.
And now it’s taking everything in me to resist that primal urge to claim her and mark her as forever mine.
“This one is pretty,” Reese says from behind the curtain.
That’s a lie.
Because when the curtain parts again, she’s dolled up in a pale blue number. It’s soft and delicate, skimming over her pale skin like a whisper.
It’s perfect.
She looks almost untouchable, a vision out of a fever dream.
My chest tightens, because I don’t just see her in lingerie. I envision her on our wedding night, climbing into bed beside me as Mrs. Topete. Hell, I never let myself imagine that with anyone. Not once. Until now.
“I like this one,” she whispers, running her hand along the silk. “This one feels right.”
The truth? She feels right. Every curve, every glance, every shaky laugh—she’s everything I used to dream of before I sold myself off piece by piece. Back when I still believed in a love that would swallow me whole.
I step to her, lifting both hands to cradle her face. My thumbs sweep slowly over her jaw, her cheekbones, memorizing her. My fingers trace the curve of her lips, the soft tremble of her mouth.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, the words rough with reverence.
“Hardly.”
“Stop that right now. Believe what I tell you.”
Her breath catches, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheek.
I lean down and press a soft, lingering kiss to her mouth. An unspoken promise that I’ll give her everything she wants. Everything she needs.
Then I force myself to let go, dropping my hands though it feels like tearing away part of myself. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. God knows I don’t want to. But I will.”
Reese joins me at the counter a few minutes later, and I hand her an ornate striped bag.
“What’s this?” She peers into the bag, her eyes widening at the sight of the satin and lace she modeled for me.
“For you. For every time you doubt how extraordinary you are, I want you to put one of these on and recall how I see you.”
“You don’t need to buy me gifts.”
“Trust me,” I reply with a wink. “I’m going to enjoy the hell out of them, too.”
After testing my resolve with gorgeous lingerie, we head back to the ranch.
Reese, despite her best efforts, is exhausted, sleep drifting back into her eyes.
Time to get her to bed.
Fuck, I did not mean it like that.
Actually, I do, but I’m going to be good… and argue with my other head later.
“What the hell happened here?” I walk into the ranch sunroom, where Chowder watches me from the top of a newly assembled cat tree.
A cat tree that leans precariously to the left and threatens to topple with every movement the cat makes.
Chowder meows, his plaintive cry begging me to fix the slipshod assembly.
“Oh, that would be my sad attempt to put together his new tower.” Reese covers her mouth with her hand and laughs, shaking her head. “It looked better before.”
“Sure about that?” I move closer and scratch Chowder behind the ears, noting the bolts used to assemble the piece.
“Okay, cat, here’s what we’re going to do.
You are going to move to a safe spot, and I’m going to fix this for you.
” I lift his pudgy orange butt off the platform and settle him on a chair before turning to Reese. “I’ll be back.”
I grab a few tools from my truck and head for the cat tree, tightening the loose bolts and ensuring the cat condo will live to see another day—and that Reese’s feline friend won’t knock the damn thing over trying to use it.
As I crouch with a wrench, Reese watches from the lounger, her cat by her side. “You see that, Chowder?” she murmurs, scratching his ears. “This big, handsome cowboy is taking care of it for you. He takes care of everything. Maybe we should keep him close, huh?”
Her words land square in my chest, knocking the air clean out of me. She has no idea what that does to me.
“That should do it.” I stand up and give the cat tree a shake, ensuring it will withstand Chowder’s aggressive pounces.
Reese pushes up from the lounger, brushing her hands over her thighs as she crosses the room to join me.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Reese asks, giving me a gentle hip check before sprinkling catnip on one of the scratching posts. “Chowder and I thank you.”
“Not a problem,” I murmur, fighting the grin tugging at my mouth. “Happy to help.”
We leave Chowder on a safe perch and stroll down the hallway toward Reese’s room, the striped bag dangling from her fingers.
“Better be careful, Griffin,” Reese jokes as she unlocks her door. “You keep showing off your myriad of skills and you’ll wind up with a trail of eager candidates for the role of Mrs. Topete.” The smile drops from her lips. “No doubt there are already tons of women vying for that role.”
Do I deny it? Claim I’m immune to their stares? Their whispers? Hell, their brazen offers, promising me a life of luxury if I’ll submit to their demands?
Both Reese and I know the truth. At least, that was my truth until I left that world.
“They didn’t want me. They wanted their fantasy.”
“What if you are their fantasy?”
I shake my head and close the door behind me. “I’m not. Not the real me, anyway.”
“Their loss, then, because the real you is wonderful. Greatest man I’ve ever met.”
And this is why Reese is endgame for me.
“I’m not that special.”
“Hey, if I have to admit that I’m the cat’s meow, so do you.”
Raising my hands in surrender, I chuckle and sink onto her couch. “Fair enough.”
She chews the inside of her cheek as she plops down beside me, folding her legs beneath her. “I have to ask. Do you ever miss it?”
“No.”
“The money, I mean.”
I clear my throat, tossing my hat onto the table. “The money was good, but it cost me everything. I’m working my ass off now, doing contracting gigs, taking whatever jobs I can.”
Reese tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to see through the walls I’ve built. “So you really stopped?”
“Yeah.” My voice is low and steady, without a drop of hesitation. “Let’s just say I finally had a reason to.”
Her brows knit, and I know she wants to press for details, but her insecurities hold her back.
She probably wouldn’t believe me anyway if I told her she was the catalyst.
But she will.
I brush my fingers over her wrist, letting the warmth of her skin ground me. “I’m not saying it’s easy. But I’d rather sweat through a hundred-hour week than go back to my old life.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, the weight of my words sinking in. “And you’re okay financially?”
I force a small smile, not wanting her to see how close to the wire things really are. “I’ll be fine. Things have a way of working out.”
She tilts her head with a grin. “Sometimes life works out in the weirdest and best ways. Look at me.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, unable to look anywhere else. “Look at you.”
Her eyes spark, playful and daring. “How about we watch a movie? Your choice, since I’ll likely be passed out within fifteen minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
But as she curls into my arms, one thought won’t let go: God, please let this work. Just once, let something this good stay.