Page 48 of Vengeful Vows

Ark’s full, throaty tone sends goose bumps racing to the surface of my skin. They grow in size the closer he approaches, then augment when the briefest flutter of his fingertips as he pulls my hair to the side of my neck shoots a shiver down my spine.

I hear a zipper lowering before an audible gulp swallows it.

“There you go.”

The dress hangs loosely around my frame, but I can’t force myself to move. Ark is still clutching the zipper, which now sits near the two dimples in my lower back, and I don’t want anything to force it away, not even the perceived hurt our closeness could thrust onto a woman who wants to be more than Ark’s friend.

If they’re not already more than that.

I overheard Veronika’s defense. I know she is refusing to leave until she gets the full shebang out of Ark’s invitation. I’m just confused as to why Ark is agreeing with her terms. He’s powerful and well-liked. He could have any woman he wants, so why is he bowing at Veronika’s feet?

He must want her. That is the only plausible explanation I can find.

“I—”

“Shh,” Ark whispers, his word as searingly heated as the look he gives me in the mirror while moving his hand to the shoulder strap of the dress. “We’re not doing anything wrong. I’m just ensuring the gown isn’t crushed when it floats to the floor.” A smile unwillingly tilts one side of my mouth when his following comment floats over my ear. “I know firsthand what Wilfred charges for a custom gown. The dry-cleaning bill she would impose if it were sullied before it is officially purchased would be atrocious.” The trickle of desire making me hot turns me into a furnace when he discloses the reason the gown fits so perfectly. “I also want a moment to admire my brilliance. I did well with my measurements considering what I had to work with. This dress fits you like a glove.”

Panting, I peer up at him.

Even if I want to act stupid, his eyes won’t allow it.

They tell me everything I need to know.

This dress wasn’t removed from the sale floor before Veronika could unearth its beauty.

It was never placed there since it is a custom creation.

I’m one hundred percent confident of this, and my assuredness flourishes when Ark says, “It’s not the quality of the dressmaker that makes a gown exquisite, Mara, but the qualities of the woman wearing it.”

As my breathing tapers, the noise of the film crew and the starlet they’re documenting ceases to exist. There is no one else in the world but Ark and me. But even if there were, there’s no way I could stop this.

I’m blinded by need and achingly desperate for him to finish what we started in his office last week.

“P-please.”

I flick my eyes to the side when he flattens his hand against the rouching in the middle of my gown. He’s not saving the gorgeous material from the dirty floor of the boutique. He’sensuring it remains glued to my body while also exposing I’m not the only one incredibly turned on by his closeness.

He’s hard, his cock throbbing as brutally as the pounds of my clit.

I lean into him when he buries his nose into my hair, and he inhales deeply. “Fuck, I’ve missed that smell.”

As the velvety serenade of his moan rolls through me, his hand dips lower. He’s seconds from touching me again, from making me his, when we’re interrupted by a highly likely source since I asked them to meet me here. The boutique is only one block from the bulk-buy grocer we visit once a month.

“Mommy!”

Tillie skips across the room, dragging Mrs. Lichard with her. Her steps are as fast as the one Ark uses to slip through the curtains of the changing room.

Her innocence makes her oblivious to the cause of the redness creeping up my neck.

Mrs. Lichard is nowhere near as fortunate.

Her cheeks are still inflamed from the near-miss when we climb the stairs of our building two hours later and stumble onto a package on my doorstep.

“Who is it for, Mommy?” Tillie asks, her eyes wide like they were when she unwrapped her Nintendo Switch.

“I d-don’t know.” My stutter is easily excusable. I’m perplexed as to why we have received a gift. It isn’t my birthday, and I don’t actively give my address to anyone, so no one could have sent Tillie a belated present.

Tillie is so excited that she looks on the verge of peeing her pants. “Open it, Mommy!”

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