Page 131 of Emylia

I yanked open the wardrobe, praying for something that wouldn't humiliate me. My closet, which had been stocked by my aunty, was an explosion of frills, but I found a black dress that was only mildly offensive. Except for the neckline, which dipped way too low, and the sequins, which sparkled like constellations.

I pulled it out anyway.

“Close your eyes,” I hissed.

“You want me to close my eyes after sleeping next to you in that?” He smirked, utterly unapologetic.

A ghost of a smile tipped up my lips as I remembered the delicate touches that shadowed my body as he slept next to me, stroking me like I was a Goddess and all he wanted was to worship me. It took everything not to shatter my resolve.

I tried my best at presenting an unwavering facade, not dignifying him with a response. I just rose as a brow.

“Fine.” He relented, rolling over and placing a pillow over his face for good measure.

I dropped the sheet, discarded the shirt, and slipped into the dress. But the laces slipped through my fingers, stubborn and impossible.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Clutching the bodice to my chest, I closed the distance between us. “I need your help,” I whispered.

“You mean you need my incredibly talented hands all over your body?” he said, muffled by the pillow.

Oh. My. Gods.

“Seriously, Bastian.” Red stained my cheeks at the thought of snuggling back into his rock-hard body.

“What? Not even a please? And I’m the one supposedly being difficult?” The amusement in his voice was infuriating.

“Please,” I gritted out.

“I’m sorry, I need to hear that with a little more desperation.”

Using one hand, I ripped the pillow off his face and threw it at him, the other cradling the bodice tightly to my chest. “Up. Now.”

He sat up, stretching like a damn feline predator—fluid and lethal. His gaze dragged over me with zero shame, his liquid amber eyes instantly heating me and setting my core on fire.

“Gods, you’re stunning when you’re angry.”

“Dress,” I warned, my eyes flashing.

“It’s kind of hard when I can’t open my eyes.” He covered his eyes with his hand for emphasis, a smirk curling his lips.

The pillow struck him a second time as I hurled it at him. “Stop being so Gods-damn infuriating and help me into this dress.”

His eyes trailed over me again, lingering too long on the swell of my breasts. “Or I could help you get out of it…”

“You’re impossible.” Drawing in a sharp breath, I dropped to my knees, imploring him, eyes pleading.

I hesitated before touching him—one palm on his arm—and instantly flushed as heat surged through me. My gaze flickered to his and faltered at the sight of heat that matched the burning of my insides. This boy had the power to ruin me with a single look.

“Please. I need to get dressed.”

His amber gaze darkened, the flecks of black intensifying as he looked at me, like I was stripped bare.

His voice turned quiet. Almost careful. "You’re only hesitating because of him, aren't you?”

Oh Gods.

“Please don’t cross that line.”

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