Page 32 of Love Lessons
“S’open,” he says from inside his room.
I open and then peer around the bathroom door, wondering if he’s decent, and then wondering if I’ll be disappointed to find that he is.
Ian is standing in the middle of the room wearing a pair of nicely pressed khakis and a faded polo shirt in light blue. But he looks hot and dangerous even in that. The V of the polo shows me a glimpse of his chest tattoo, and his eyes look twice as blue.
You’re staring, my inner voice snaps.And he can tell.
Sure enough, his eyes are twinkling. “Something you need from me?” he asks, and the question is dripping with innuendo.
“Um, not to beat a dead horse, but I brought you something.” I step all the way into his room, revealing the houndstooth shirt in my hands. “First, I washed the shirt in hypoallergenic detergent, to clear away the chemical sizing. Then I removed every single interior-facing seam and sewed each one back in with organic cotton thread. I also removed the tags, because who knows what those are made from. Then I washed, dried, and ironed the shirt again.” I hold it up for his inspection. “It shouldn’t hurt you now. I hope. If it does, you have my permission to light it on fire.”
He laughs. “That sounds like a lot of trouble, honey.” He steps forward and takes the shirt from me, inspecting it. “Did you really sew it back together? That’s crazy. How many hours did it take?”
“It wasn’t that much trouble,” I insist.
He already knows you’re bonkers.My inner voice laughs.This is just an obsessive little cherry on top.
I brace myself as Ian removes his polo shirt with one burly arm and tosses it aside. Those wings on his chest ripple as he puts on the new shirt. “Hmm. Okay. The seams feel a lot better now.”
“Oh good,” I say, practically melting with relief.
He buttons it all the way up and then looks at himself in the mirror over his dresser. “Nice work, contessa. I like it. And you’re right—I never buy anything new because half the time it doesn’t work out for me. And a man isn’t supposed to whine about his itchy shirt. Nobody wants to hear it.”
“I do,” I say quickly.
He gives me a sidelong glance. “We all have our kinks.”
“Ian! You know what I mean. Solving fashion problems is my calling.”
He laughs.
“Look, I know you aren’t interested in clothes. But now that I know what you need, I could find you some more. I’d like to do that for you.”
He looks wary. “I could really use a few things, I guess. Shirts. A suit or two. And eventually maybe a tux. Mine is a rag.”
I’m so excited that I actually clap my hands. “Let me grab my measuring tape!” I dart for the bathroom door.
“I saideventually!” he thunders at my back.
“Too late!” I call. “You’re stuck with me now.” I grab the tape out of my suitcase, then I hurry back into the room before he can object any further.
He gives me a grumpy look. “You can’t measure me wearing that slinky dress, contessa, I’m gonna get ideas.”
“Oh, please. This will literally take ten seconds,” I insist, handing him the loose end of the tape. “Hold this to your inseam, please.”
“You mean my balls, right?” he grumbles. “I don’t do jargon.”
“Call ’em whatever you want, just hold the tape,” I say gleefully. I drop down onto the rug and catch the other end. Then I straighten his trouser leg so my measurement will be accurate. “All right! Thank you.” I drop the tape and look up at his stormy face. “See how easy that was? Not exactly the porn shoot you were picturing, huh?”
He actually scowls. “Oh, I’m filming it in my mind as we speak. Honestly, the view of you kneeling at my feet in that dress is as convincing as a hand on my cock.”
The way he says that last word makes my face heat. I stare up at him from the floor and realize how close I am to his groin. And now we’rebothpicturing something much different than a trouser fitting.
Oh boy.
I know I ought to scramble to my feet and break the moment. But for once in my life, I don’t. Somehow, I stay right here on the rug, my heart beginning to pound, my tape measure forgotten. And for a split second I feel like a different person. A bolder one. The kind of girl who drops down onto her knees on a dare.
It’s a thrilling idea. Scary, but still thrilling.
