Page 55 of Billionaire Grump's Baby

“Luke? Help me?” Hazel prompts.

I square my shoulders and approach Hazel, telling myself to suck it up. I do hard things all the time. I run marathons. I’ve had my pilot’s license since I turned 16. Last month I worked 48 hours straight to meet a project deadline. I’m steps away from becoming one of the youngest airline CEOs in the world

I can unzip a damn dress without turning into a caveman.

I feel for the zipper and find a tiny hook thing just above it that holds the dress closed. My hands feel huge and useless as I fumble to unhook it. My knuckles brush against her soft, soft skin.

What would happen if I kissed the back of her neck, and ripped off her damn dress, and...

Fuck, she smells good.

Don’t think about how she smells, I order myself.

The hook slips out of my grip again.

I swear.

“You ok back there?” Hazel teases.

“Do you want my help or not?” I growl.

“Sorry,” she says, appropriately chastened.

Finally, I get the hook undone.

“Woo-hoo! Triumph!” Hazel jokes. “The next part’s easy.”

I grunt. Then I carefully slide the zipper down her back, expecting to see bare skin that will haunt my dreams. But her bustier-thing goes up pretty high, so I find myself staring at enough white lace to make my mouth go dry.

“There,” I say.

Hazel reaches back and tries to tug the zipper lower, but it’s delicate and keeps slipping out of her grasp. “Can you do the rest? It goes all the way down to my ass.”

“Jesus, Hazel,” I swear.

“What is your problem?” She turns around to glare at me, holding her dress up in front to keep it in place. “I get it, today was stressful. You’d like to flop down on this giant bed so you can read some boring business report and forget I exist. But I am literally trapped in this dress, so I need you to pretend to be a nice guy for sixty more seconds so I can take a bath and get into something more comfortable.Thenyou can retreat into being an asshole.”

I close my eyes briefly, fighting off images of Hazel in the bathtub.

“Oh my God, you can’t even look at me,” she says.

“It’s not...just turn around so I can finish getting you naked,” I say, realizing as I do that this might be the least fun way I have ever said that sentence.

She does.

Somehow, even the back of her neck looks irritated.

I tug the zipper lower, until I reach the end of the bustier, and there’s nothing but bare skin. I keep going until my knuckles brush the top of her underwear.

She’s wearing a lace thong.

“Maybe I can sleep on the floor,” I blurt.

She turns around to face me. “Luke,whatis wrong with you?” She looks glorious, her face flushed with passion, her dress an inch away from sliding off her entirely.

“Nothing,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my face.

“Liar.”

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