56. Zane

56

ZANE

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Whitaker?" the woman behind the counter whispers.

I walked in five minutes ago, my finger held to my lips to keep her quiet, and she didn't ask questions. It might have something to do with the Amex Black Card I slid across the counter. She works for a commission and I just became her biggest whale of the year.

"Just one hour," I repeat. "That's all I need."

Her cheeks flush. "I'll make myself scarce. The shop is yours."

The employee disappears through the back door and I make my way past the racks of lace and silk to the dressing room.

Even if Evan hadn't texted to tell me where Mira stopped on her way home from the gym, Zane Whitaker's Ferrari can only sit outside of Luxure Miel for so long before people start to notice.

I take a tight corner and then the sprawling dressing room opens up in front of me. It's an explosion of pink and purple and glitter. Velvet curtains hang from the ceilings and mirrored panels are set into the violently pink walls.

"I was just about to ring the bell," Mira calls out when she hears motion.

I follow the sound of her voice to the dressing room in the back corner. It's the only one with the curtain pulled shut. The rest of them are empty.

"I don't think this is the right size, but I also don't—" She chuckles. "Well, it's hard to tell when so much of me is showing. How do you size a bra when the bra is just scraps of lace around your boobs?"

Fuck me. I don't think I've ever been harder.

"Do you come in here and check the size?" she asks. "Would that be weird or are you desensitized to naked bodies at this point?"

I rip the curtain open. Definitely not desensitized.

"I'd love to check the size, but I have a very hands-on approach."

Mira whirls around, green eyes wide, mouth parted. "What are you doing here?" She throws an arm over her chest like I haven't seen and tasted every inch of her already. "You're supposed to be at practice!"

I pull her arm away and rake my eyes over her. She's in a lacy one-piece that was designed for one thing and one thing only.

"And you're supposed to be buying a coffee or perusing a bookstore. Maybe wearing a parka while you get a facial. You're not supposed to be here wearing this ."

As nice as things have been lately, the fire in Mira's eyes has dimmed. For weeks now, being near her has been overwhelming. She's a presence I can't ignore no matter how hard I try. But recently—since that asshole photographer snapped those pictures, if I had to pinpoint it—she's been slipping away.

I thought giving her the keys to my car and letting her have the day to herself would help clear her head.

But as soon as she walked through the doors of this shop, she might as well have flashed the fucking Bat Signal in the sky. I didn't have a choice but to respond.

She bites her lower lip. "I didn't realize there were rules when you gave me your keys."

"Then let me fill you in." I reach out and drag her close. Her breasts bounce with every step. "Don't wear this unless you want to be immediately and thoroughly fucked."

Her neck is turning pink. I run my tongue over her pulse point, pressing my lips to all the places she's flushed for me.

"Maybe Taylor was right," she sighs, arching against me.

I trail my hands down her spine and cup her ass, groaning when I feel nothing but bare skin. "This lingerie doesn't cover a fucking thing."

"Is that such a crime?"

"No. You need to order ten of them."

"My top drawer is pretty pathetic. I've never had a need for this kind of thing. No one saw it except for me."

"Now, I'm here to see it." I bite down on her shoulder. "Then shred it off of you and fuck you in the scraps."

Her breath catches. "Do you think we can make it through ten of them before it's time for me to leave?"

A few seconds ago, I would've said there wasn't a thing in the world that could've stopped me from bending Mira over that stupid pink bench and making her scream, but I would've been wrong.

I pull back. "‘Leave'?"

Her eyes flare. There's a moment of panic before she shrugs me off. "Well, yeah. Once CPS is off your back. That's why I'm here, right?"

Suddenly, it all makes sense. Why the closer I pull her in, the more she resists.

Because she thinks this is going to end.

Somehow, after everything, she thinks there's a world where I am going to let her walk away.

What a fucking joke.

"Do you see Peter Morris anywhere?" I ask. She turns to look and I grab her chin, pulling her focus back to me. "What about this last week? Do you think I was keeping track of how many times I made you come so I could report it to the state?"

She licks her lips. "No."

"No," I repeat, palming the hot skin of her hip. "You could leave today with this entire fucking store in bags and it wouldn't be enough, Mira." I drag her against me and we both shudder at the contact. "Because this isn't temporary."

She opens her mouth to respond, but I kiss her. There's nothing to say that she can't show me instead.

Mira seems to agree, because she comes alive in my arms.

She claws at my back and strains onto her toes. She arches into me with a moan and undoes my zipper as I walk us to the bench.

Before I can lay her down, she turns in my arms, catches my eye in the tall mirror in front of us, and bends herself over the cushion.

"Fucking hell," I snarl, pumping myself in my hand.

I don't know where to look. Her ass is perfect, but her messy-haired reflection in the mirror…the way she's biting her lip, waiting for me… It's too much.

"I tried not to want you." I slide the scrap of lace out of the way. "I tried to stay away."

I push into her, and her back bends. Her mouth falls open in a gasp and I want to see her this lost in pleasure every day for the rest of my life.

"That didn't work. So, now, I'm going to let myself have you."

She stretches her arms long in front of her, lifting her hips to me. "Zane…"

"That's right." I wrap her hair around my fist and tug. "I already told you: you belong to me."

She's watching us in the mirror with dark eyes. The woman who insists she can take care of herself loves the sight of me taking care of her.

"Say it," I order. "Tell me who you belong to, Mira."

"You," she rasps.

I'm teetering on the edge, losing myself with every clench of her around me. "Again. Say it until you come."

"I belong to you." She reaches one hand back and digs her nails into my thigh. "I'm yours, Zane. I'll always be yours."