31

Kassie

Stuck

I shifted from my position, and my breathing evened while I pondered his words. He was usually so straightforward.

Kassie, don't be late.

Kassie, don't say ‘eat a dick' to reporters.

Kassie, stop offering to pay.

Those made sense. The sentence he spoke did not.

Is he complimenting me?

"That almost sounds like praise, Cross."

His voice was soft. "It could be, Ragar."

Warmth pooled between my legs in a momentary recognition of that voice. It was husky and rough and dipped down low. It was a voice I only heard from him right when he woke up in the morning. His voice was always nice but the timbers of that voice stroked all of my buttons.

I tugged up another strap and stopped, glancing down.

Wait, no. That was the second strap. No, that had to have been the third strap looped over the first. Or the fourth strap tied over the second, or—

"Shit."

"What is it?"

"Shit, shit, shit ." I snapped back and forth between the mirror and the bottom of the dress. "Fuck!"

Ryan pushed up from the chair. "What is it?"

"Can you…?" I struggled to weasel my left hand from the knot. "Shit. Fuck me. Can you grab the attendant?"

"What happened?"

"I'm not ruining this dress and I need an outside, impartial witness that'll see they can't fine me—"

"You're not going to ruin the dress."

"Ryan, that is a shit ton of optimism right there!"

"Kassie, what're you talking about?" He was an inch away from the curtain, and I could see the shadows of his features against the curtain. The outline of his jaw. His hands. His body.

"I'm tied up!" I struggled for a moment before remembering the dress's price tag. "I'm serious, go get the attendant."

"You're actually stuck?"

"Yeah, I'm actually stuck." I frowned, pushing past the fact that the only thing separating me, half-naked, and the quarterback, was the thinnest curtain known to man. "What'd you think I was doing? Getting a Girl Scouts badge?"

"I'll be right back."

Everything would be fine. Ryan would come back in with the attendant and…there was a good chance that he'd see me, tied up like a Christmas present. Oh, boy. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to slow my breathing. Because if I looked into the mirror, at the dress that showed off an ample amount of everything, the blush would overwhelm me.

Footsteps returned and I breathed out a sigh of relief, watching the curtain. But there was only one other person in the fitting room.

Ryan?

The curtain pulled back, and he gazed into the mirror right back at me. My heart leaped to my throat, watching him too. I wasn't humble enough in my situation to avoid looking at him. My eyes trailed up his body, up the t-shirt that outlined the muscles in his arms and that strong jaw that must've dropped thongs when he'd landed his place on the Romans.

Ryan reached back and tugged his chair closer.

My pulse slowed. "Ryan?"

Out of the corner of the mirror, I could see him set a small case on the chair.

"She has some customers she has to deal with," he explained, his voice low and smooth and delicious. "I'll help you out but I figured, as long as you're unable to walk out of this store…"

I couldn't stop the blush. It crept up my neck, determined to expose me, and I pressed my thighs together. I should've been hobbling out to get the attendant's attention and finally get out of the straitjacket but it was hard to think about anything else with Ryan in the tiny fitting room with me.

Something clinked from the case and he held up a gold bracelet, sparkling in the fitting room light.

My eyes shot wide. " Ryan ."

"I just want to see what they look like before I buy them."

I swallowed. "You're not buying those."

"That's interesting." Ryan gently took my wrist, still bound in part of the dress. Oh my god. My breathing hitched up a notch as he slipped the bracelet over my wrist, cool metal against my skin. "I don't remember asking you what I should do with my money."

It was impossible to keep the blush away as his fingertips ran across my skin again, clasping another bracelet into place.

I took a deep breath. "You'll waste your money."

"No. You're wearing them to the alumni event."

"Is that a requirement to get through the door?" I asked, like I was in the position to ask, instead of breathing out slowly every time he touched me again.

"No."

"There's—there's your answer then."

"Kassie." The last bracelet clicked into place. "If you were my real girlfriend, I'd buy you things anyway. It's my way of…locking it down."

I resisted the urge to swallow. Hard. "But I'm not your real girlfriend, Ryan."

"It doesn't matter." He shrugged. "I like the things I own to look good."

Fuck.

My eyes flickered to the mirror again and met Ryan's. The dark honey stayed fixed on me while he started easing down the straps of the dress, tugging on the knots until they unwound. The close proximity of the fitting room, Ryan's whole body just inches behind me, all of it left my mind whirling. If I took a step back, I would've stumbled into him.

The more he loosened up string after string and shifted the fabric together, the more putty I became. Blood pounded in my ears. Heat rushed to my neck. And an inner struggle occurred while I weighed the pros and cons between keeping professionalism intact and—uh—not doing that.

I want a taste of Ryan Cross.

His eyes shifted away from mine and darkened. I didn't recognize the look on his face and Ryan only spoke one word.

"Goddamn."

My eyes flickered to the mirror and I completely knew what he meant. The dress, the ten thousand dollar straitjacket, didn't just flow on the rack, it flowed on me . I couldn't believe it. And the bracelets…oh my god, the bracelets. They sparkled in the light and I couldn't tear my eyes away from them.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," the attendant's voice came through. "Ma'am, do you still need help getting out of the dress? Do you still need assistance?"

In an instant, the spell was broken. I took an automatic step from Ryan as he backed away from the fitting room. The more space between us, the more I could breathe again. And look at what I was wearing.

What the hell am I doing?

If anything happened to the dress—or, god forbid, the bracelets—I couldn't cover it. I couldn't even afford an interest fee.

"He's not buying these," I whispered to myself. "Um—we're not buying these!"

"Yes, we are," Ryan retorted.

I ignored him and poked my head out of the fitting room. "Can you help me out of this? Please? Thank you so much but I'm holding his credit cards hostage, so unfortunately—"

He chuckled. "Art girl, I had to put down a credit card just to bring the bracelets out."

Oh, you bastard.

"Well, you're going to look stunning while you strut around in these," I told him with a smile, trying to ignore my stomach twisting into knots, thinking about him . "Because I'm not wearing any of it."