Chapter 11
IT’S A LOVELY COUCH
‘Looks like your villain saved the day.’
The words ghosted against my ear, entirely too close, sending a shiver through me.
One that had nothing to do with the now loosened corset and everything to do with the man standing behind me.
For a moment, I didn’t move. As I didn’t trust myself to, because the problem was no longer the dress.
That had been dealt with. The problem was the way his hands still rested against me.
No longer tugging at laces but not leaving either.
As though he had simply decided that was where they belonged.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” I managed at last, though the words came out softer than intended, lacking the bite I had been aiming for.
“I find I enjoy many things,” he replied smoothly, his voice still seductively low and close enough that I could feel the warmth of it against my skin.
“Touching you simply happens to be my favorite,” he hummed in my ear, and I had to resist the urge to moan.
Instead, I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself before shifting forward just enough to create the smallest sliver of space between us. Even if the absence of his warmth was immediately noticeable, and in a way, I refused to dwell on it.
“Thanks for your help…” I managed, though it came out quieter than intended, my breath faltering just enough to betray me.
“You can… erm… let go now.” There was a brief pause, just long enough to feel intentional, before his hands finally withdrew.
The loss of contact left behind a faint chill that only seemed to highlight how warm I had been moments before.
I exhaled slowly, telling myself that this was good, that distance meant control, and control was exactly what I needed right now.
“Very well, but remember, I’ll be out here waiting… should you require any further assistance,” he said, his voice no longer at my ear but still close enough to carry easily. The humor was easy to hear in his tone, as if he was having the time of his life teasing me.
A small, involuntary huff of laughter escaped me as I heard him move away. The soft sound of his footsteps retreating out of the dressing room and back into the bedroom beyond.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath, though the faint smile tugging at my lips betrayed me entirely.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the far more immediate issue of what I was actually going to wear.
I went to my bag, pulling it open with far more purpose than necessary.
If he thought I was about to make this easy for him, then he was very much mistaken.
My fingers sifted through the contents quickly before pausing as I pulled out two very different options. One a soft, comfy, far more conventional set that, under normal circumstances, I might have actually enjoyed wearing. And the other…
Well… The other made me pause.
A pair of shorts that were, quite frankly, far shorter than they had any right to be.
They were patterned with little lily pads and flowers that only added to their overall ridiculous charm.
Paired with it was a thin-strapped cami top that was as skimpy as it was soft.
It had a cute cartoon little frog and a slogan that said, ‘Chillin on my pad’ written underneath.
I looked between them both and then back again.
Because if I was going to be forced into sharing a room with him, then I was at least going to do it on my terms. And if that meant leaning into something the complete opposite of seductive, something that was equal parts cute and defiant, then so be it.
“Perfect,” I murmured, far more satisfied than I should have been as I slipped into them. Even if the shorts rode a little higher than expected, and the thin straps of the cami left far more bare than I was used to.
Still. It was fine. Completely fine… maybe. Probably.
“Get a grip, Eliza,” I scolded myself, but then, as I was tugging down the hem of the cami, a thought invaded. Wye had been standing behind me, and not once had I looked at him. Which now had me questioning, had he been shirtless or…
Naked?
My curiosity lingered. Which, apparently, was reason enough for me to finally move, drawing in a steadying breath before stepping back into the bedroom.
I barely made it two steps inside before I saw him. He stood with his back to me once more, broad shoulders framed by the low light of the room. His hands were at his waist, fingers working at the fastening of his trousers as though he had only just reached that point.
Which meant… Oh. So, he had been a gentleman in the dressing room.
Well. That was… something, I guess. Although honestly, I didn’t know whether I was disappointed or not.
But as for now, well, it was clear he was past that point, and realization hit me just as quickly as my instincts did. Because the moment he began to turn, I moved, slipping to the door on my left and into the bathroom before he had the chance to fully face me.
For a moment after the door clicked shut behind me, I simply stood there, staring at my own reflection. As though it might somehow offer me a solution to the situation I had so spectacularly found myself in.
It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.
Instead, all it gave me was a flushed face, slightly mussed hair, and a girl who looked far more affected than she had any right to be over a man who was, quite literally, the problem.
“Get a grip,” I muttered again, reaching for my toothbrush as though the simple act of doing something normal, something routine, might be enough to ground me again.
And for the most part, it worked. At least on the surface.
Because I moved through everything that followed as though I were running on autopilot.
Brushing my teeth, rinsing, wiping away the last traces of makeup, fingers working through my hair as I tidied it into something manageable.
All of it done with a kind of mechanical focus that required very little actual thought.
Unfortunately, my brain had no intention of cooperating.
Because no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to focus on literally anything else, it kept circling back.
Back to him. Back to the feel of his hands on me.
Back to the slow, confident way he moved.
As if he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was doing with every second of it.
And worst of all… back to that moment when I had seen him.
That back.
Those large, muscular shoulders.
The way the markings had shifted beneath his skin.
“Stop it,” I whispered to myself, gripping the edge of the sink as I leaned forward slightly.
Squeezing my eyes shut for a brief second as though that might somehow erase the image.
It didn’t. If anything, it only made it clearer.
Sharper. Entirely unhelpful. This was not the time.
This was not the place. And this was absolutely not a good idea.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I turned on the tap and splashed cold water over my face. The chill was sharp enough to snap me back into the present. To pull me out of the spiral just enough that I could lift my head again and meet my own gaze in the mirror.
“You can do this,” I told my reflection quietly, narrowing my eyes slightly as though I could will the words into something convincing.
“You just need a little willpower. That’s it. Nothing more… you got this.” Needless to say, my little pep talk was convincing no one, least of all me.
“Just don’t think about his back. Don’t think about his muscles. Don’t think about those stupidly sexy tattoos…” I stopped myself, so I could splash cold water on my face again.
“Right,” I sighed, scrubbing a hand down over my face, gathering the drips as I went.
“Yeah, great plan. Just don’t think about the literal God currently lying in his own bed, waiting for you… sure… yeah.” A beat passed, and I practically groaned,
“Good talk.”
Which, admittedly, was not my finest moment. Still, it was enough. Enough to at least pretend I had this under control.
Straightening slightly, I took one last breath before turning toward the door, reaching for the handle, and pulling it open as I stepped back into the bedroom.
And immediately I wished that I hadn’t. Because there he was, already in bed.
Now propped slightly against the headboard with a sheet draped low across his waist, leaving the entire expanse of his torso very much on display.
And… honestly, holy mother Goddess!
“Oh, come on!” I breathed loudly before I could stop myself. The words slipped out in quiet disbelief as my eyes betrayed me entirely, taking in far more than they had any right to.
And then that sexy as fuck single brow lifted in question, making me wonder if my ovaries wouldn’t just explode!
“Is there a problem?” he asked smoothly, and I opened my mouth and closed it again, doing my best impression of a fish once more.
“That’s just…” I started, only to falter completely as my brain seemed to abandon me mid-thought. Now leaving me grasping for something, anything that didn’t sound like complete nonsense.
“I… you…” I huffed softly, shaking my head as I waved a hand vaguely in his direction.
“Nothing. Nothing, it’s fine… everything is fine… dandy even.” Seriously, who the fuck said dandy! And no, shit wasn’t fine… it would never be fine again. Fine had packed its bags and fucked off to Jamaica! Fine had abandoned me.
And the fact that he looked like he was trying not to laugh only made it worse.
Lifting my chin in what I hoped resembled a shred of dignity, I made my way toward the bed with far more purpose than I felt. Only for that quiet restraint of his to crack the closer I got, the low sound of his amusement finally slipping free.
“Is something funny?” I asked sharply, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Chillin’ in your pad,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze flicking briefly to my top before returning to my face.