Manwhore +1 (Manwhore, #2)(60)

“Trust me, they know I’m here.”

I stand there, dumbly holding the panties and nightie to my chest. Dressing-room lights are always so bad. Though Saint looks glorious as usual. He’s leaning back against the wall with his legs spread and his hands in his pockets. The top three buttons of his polo are unbuttoned and he’s looking at me with laughter in his eyes.

“Can you at least close your eyes?” I plead.

He shakes his head no.

When I just stand there, shy like I shouldn’t still be feeling with him, he lowers himself to the only seat available and crooks his index finger at me. “Come here.”

I walk toward him, entranced by the gleam in his eyes right now. I hold my breath when he puts his warm, strong hands on my hips and places me between his legs, the top of his head reaching just below my breasts.

He eases my blouse off first, then he unbuttons my jeans slowly.

My throat starts to close at the utter sensuality of the moment. I focus on a spot on the wall behind him, trying to calm myself down. He slowly pushes my jeans down until they’re a puddle on the floor. I step out of them automatically then toe off my shoes, and he runs his hands slowly up my legs until they’re resting on my hips again.

I’m standing in my top and light-blue panties. He looks up at me with his green eyes and I know in this moment that he could do whatever he wanted to me and I would let him. Wholeheartedly, I would let him.

I’m scared of how reckless he makes me. I can feel my breathing get faster as he hooks his thumbs in the edge of my panties and slowly starts to pull them down. His eyes stay on mine the whole time, until my panties are on the floor. I step out of them and he reaches for the nightie, taking my arms and sliding them into the flimsy, fluttery sleeves. I fasten the bow at the center as he watches. By now, I am a horny mess.

He leans over, and parts the already-wide parting of the nightie and places a kiss on the top of my navel. Edging the bow up and kissing my stomach softly before turning me around in his hands so I can see myself in the mirror.

The nightie feels weightless and soft as a cloud wrapped around me; I can feel the silk molding to my body, hugging my waist, fluttering to my bottom, where it just—ends. Exposing my ass. I can tell he’s having fun because he’s looking at the back, smiling. Then his eyes hold mine in the mirror. He looks dark, manly, and powerful, with his hands on the sides of my thighs while he sits back on the bench, looking at me in the mirror.

My body’s gone haywire but I can’t help my reactions to him and I think Sin very well knows it. Oy, me.

He pats my ass after he stands in that deliberately slow way of his. “I’d say this one for sure,” he murmurs close to my ear, brushing a hand up my side in a caress that hums through me like his whisper.

We can’t seem to take our eyes off each other as he slowly undoes the ribbon and lets it unfurl open. I’m shaking head to toe, ready to make out or even do more, when I look for the first thing to cover myself. I hop quickly into my panties as he sits down again and pulls out the huge panties.

“Go on. Turn me on.”

I hike one brow. “The only way I can try it is over my jeans.” I slip on my jeans and then slide on the humongous panties. And I’m laughing so hard at his face. Then his eyes darken and he pulls me down on his lap, and says, “These look like a dress on you.”

“A very ugly dress?”

He shakes his head, smiling.

“A very big dress?”

He shakes his head.

“Should I take a thousand of these?”

“I dig you in these, Rachel. I dig you in everything.” He looks at me with hot tenderness, stroking his hand down my back as he looks down at the ridiculous view. “The more you get, the more I get to rip off you. So yes. Take them off.” He pats my ass. “We’re getting you everything,” he says, almost to himself.

I’m laughing and tossing the huge panties at him along with the nightie and everything else.

But inwardly, I’m blushing.

Is he blind?

I looked ridiculous.

He looked at me like I was so . . . perfect.

When he brushes past me to pay, I swear that this simple intimate act of shopping together has taken my arousal to a whole other level.

When I slip on my clothes and step out, the saleslady is gushing at him and handing Malcolm her card. “Anything, you can absolutely call or email and we will be happy to help.”

“Thank you,” he absently murmurs, his gaze on me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and that’s where it stays as he swings the bags behind his shoulder and we head out of there.

“Saint,” I chide. “Don’t spend this kind of money on me. You’re already like the man of my dreams.”

I laugh and duck my head after the admission, blushing when I see the hot look in his eyes.



Outside, I shoot him a sidelong glance. “Do you give your black credit card to all your lady friends?”

“No, I give them the gold.”

“Malcolm!” I hit him playfully. He grabs the back of my head and leads me down the street, where a guy approaches us quite frantically.

“Saint, any comments on your father’s acquisition of Edge?”

Malcolm puts himself between me and the guy and continues walking me toward the car, silent, leaving the guy behind.