around so fast she flinched then took a step
back. Instead of being angry, like she’d thought, he smirked and said, “My
little hot-headed fae is back.” Then he stroked her cheek with a knuckle. She
scowled but didn’t pull away. “I’m not judging you, Aila. Gods know I’m not the
best example of a moral life. I just think you can do better than living like a
leech off men.”
“Funny choice of words for someone like you,” she
muttered, though she felt the anger recede with his words.
He thrust an arm full of clothing at her then spun her
around and pushed her to the back of the store. They entered a separate room
with a row of stalls.
“What am I supposed to do here?” she asked.
“Try them on.”
She looked at the stalls then back to Marcelo. “By
myself?”
He grinned wickedly. “Unless you want me to help you.”
She frowned. “Can’t we just buy them?”
“No. You’re going to try each and every one of them on,
then walk out here and show me. It’s the only thing that makes shopping with a
woman worthwhile. And since I’m paying for the clothes, I’m taking my due.”
Ballsy! Before she could
stutter through a response he had pushed her through one of the doors and shut
it behind her. She scanned the stall then placed the clothes on the hook. At
least there would be no one watching her. Unless….she spotted what looked like
a video camera on the ceiling. Oh God!
“Aila,” Marcelo warned from outside. “Don’t make me come
in there. Get going.”
She shuddered at his tone. What would it be like if he
broke through the door mid-dressing? Would he ogle her body? Would she like it?
The rush of heat flooding her core answered that question. Get a grip on your libido , she scolded herself,
shaking away her lustful thoughts. You have a
boyfriend!
After she tried on the first outfit – a pair of plain
khaki hiking shorts and pink tank top with a built-in bra, she looked in the
mirror, turning this way and that. She had to admit it was gratifying to see
herself in the clothing before making a purchase.
Marcelo’s voice snapped her away from the moment. “Come,
Aila. Let me see.”
She rolled her eyes then stepped out of the dressing
room, knowing full well he would just come in if she didn’t.
His gaze raked over her body, intensifying with each
second. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she was actually aroused by this
bold show of sensuality. Her cheeks flushed and her throat suddenly felt dry.
He didn’t say anything, just nodded in what she guessed was approval.
She spun around, embarrassed by the warmth between her
legs. Right before she’d gone back into the dressing room, Marcelo’s eyes had locked
onto hers, sparkling with a hint of wicked desire. It was as if he knew exactly
what she was thinking. And what she was thinking was so not suitable for
a public dressing room. She almost collapsed on the floor when she shut the
door behind her. But she knew, in only a moment, Marcelo would be demanding
another show.
Everything she had tried on was serviceable clothing for
hiking – nothing particularly appealing about them. Marcelo had watched her
with a heated gaze that made her knees weaker and weaker each time she went
back into the dressing room. But he hadn’t made a sound.
On the fourth outfit – a red halter top dress she hadn’t
remembered picking out – he finally rose from the chair where he’d been sitting.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She spun slowly, hiding a smile, wondering what he was
thinking.
He hissed in a breath. “Your ass looks magnificent.
Her stomach fluttered.
“One size smaller, I think. I’ll be right back.”
Then he spun on his heel and left her. Alone. He left
her.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chanted feeling the
familiar tightening in her chest. She stood there, frozen, outside the fitting
room stall.
“Hey, is that Erin?” she heard someone whisper from the
opening of the fitting room.
Looking in that
back. Instead of being angry, like she’d thought, he smirked and said, “My
little hot-headed fae is back.” Then he stroked her cheek with a knuckle. She
scowled but didn’t pull away. “I’m not judging you, Aila. Gods know I’m not the
best example of a moral life. I just think you can do better than living like a
leech off men.”
“Funny choice of words for someone like you,” she
muttered, though she felt the anger recede with his words.
He thrust an arm full of clothing at her then spun her
around and pushed her to the back of the store. They entered a separate room
with a row of stalls.
“What am I supposed to do here?” she asked.
“Try them on.”
She looked at the stalls then back to Marcelo. “By
myself?”
He grinned wickedly. “Unless you want me to help you.”
She frowned. “Can’t we just buy them?”
“No. You’re going to try each and every one of them on,
then walk out here and show me. It’s the only thing that makes shopping with a
woman worthwhile. And since I’m paying for the clothes, I’m taking my due.”
Ballsy! Before she could
stutter through a response he had pushed her through one of the doors and shut
it behind her. She scanned the stall then placed the clothes on the hook. At
least there would be no one watching her. Unless….she spotted what looked like
a video camera on the ceiling. Oh God!
“Aila,” Marcelo warned from outside. “Don’t make me come
in there. Get going.”
She shuddered at his tone. What would it be like if he
broke through the door mid-dressing? Would he ogle her body? Would she like it?
The rush of heat flooding her core answered that question. Get a grip on your libido , she scolded herself,
shaking away her lustful thoughts. You have a
boyfriend!
After she tried on the first outfit – a pair of plain
khaki hiking shorts and pink tank top with a built-in bra, she looked in the
mirror, turning this way and that. She had to admit it was gratifying to see
herself in the clothing before making a purchase.
Marcelo’s voice snapped her away from the moment. “Come,
Aila. Let me see.”
She rolled her eyes then stepped out of the dressing
room, knowing full well he would just come in if she didn’t.
His gaze raked over her body, intensifying with each
second. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she was actually aroused by this
bold show of sensuality. Her cheeks flushed and her throat suddenly felt dry.
He didn’t say anything, just nodded in what she guessed was approval.
She spun around, embarrassed by the warmth between her
legs. Right before she’d gone back into the dressing room, Marcelo’s eyes had locked
onto hers, sparkling with a hint of wicked desire. It was as if he knew exactly
what she was thinking. And what she was thinking was so not suitable for
a public dressing room. She almost collapsed on the floor when she shut the
door behind her. But she knew, in only a moment, Marcelo would be demanding
another show.
Everything she had tried on was serviceable clothing for
hiking – nothing particularly appealing about them. Marcelo had watched her
with a heated gaze that made her knees weaker and weaker each time she went
back into the dressing room. But he hadn’t made a sound.
On the fourth outfit – a red halter top dress she hadn’t
remembered picking out – he finally rose from the chair where he’d been sitting.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She spun slowly, hiding a smile, wondering what he was
thinking.
He hissed in a breath. “Your ass looks magnificent.
Her stomach fluttered.
“One size smaller, I think. I’ll be right back.”
Then he spun on his heel and left her. Alone. He left
her.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chanted feeling the
familiar tightening in her chest. She stood there, frozen, outside the fitting
room stall.
“Hey, is that Erin?” she heard someone whisper from the
opening of the fitting room.
Looking in that
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