Protege(14)

Her eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“Your fidgeting tells me you need attention. Let’s have it. What color are they?”

“I don’t need attention. I just get impatient—”

“The color.”

“Red.”

His head tipped. “Do they match your bra?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very nice. I’d like to see that. Strip.”

Weight settled in her chest. Still unclear about what actually happened in these meetings, she couldn’t decide if his request was progress or an insult to her dignity—or lack thereof.

“I’m waiting, Ms. Banks.”

“I . . . Do you usually ask the women you interview to remove their clothing?”

“The women I know typically offer, but I interview men, too, Ms. Banks. I ask whatever I believe will help me gain a more accurate appraisal of their tastes and needs. Currently, I find the idea of you in red satin panties unexpected, and I would like a visual so my impression of you can find a sort of equilibrium.”

Well, that sounded somewhat scientific. She stood and slowly unraveled the lemon-yellow scarf around her neck.

“Does the idea of undressing for a stranger excite you?”

“Being that you’ve seen me naked before, I’d hardly consider you a stranger.”

“You weren’t naked. You were partially dressed. Stop confusing the two or I’ll show you the difference. And answer the question.”

Her fingers stilled over the buttons of her shirt as she appraised him. Sometimes it was very difficult to discern if he was teasing or serious. She considered the damp heat slowly weighing the gusset of her panties. She was undeniably aroused, but she’d been that way since waking that morning, anticipation for this very moment building to a near-climactic point.

“I’m waiting for an answer.”

“I’m aroused, but I was before I got here.”

The leather of his chair creaked as he eased back, his finger sliding over his mouth so his knuckle hid his lips. “Is that so?”

She nodded.

“Finish undressing. I’m going to watch you.”

Her belly fluttered as his words penetrated. She unzipped her pencil skirt and slowly lowered it. Stepping out of the clothes, she shut her eyes for a moment as dizziness took hold. Taking her clothing off had never been anything close to exhilarating, but it was now.

Her thumbs slid beneath the lace of her stockings.

“Leave them.”

She met his gaze and noted a smokiness creeping over his green irises. Slowly, she unfolded her body and stood. Her slip was a full-body one that covered her from her breasts down to her upper thighs.

“There’s an antiquated charm to your choice of lingerie, Ms. Banks.”

“Thank you. That’s the way I designed it.”

When his face showed surprise she smirked. Making clothing had always been a hobby of hers. Sewing was one of the few memories she had of her mother. As she got older, her talents and tastes evolved. Her favorite creations were intimate apparel. There was something special about wearing undergarments no one else could own.

“I’m impressed.” His finger rubbed over his chin and lips. “Would you object to being touched?”

Her breath caught. Did he usually touch the women he interviewed? He’d touched her during their last meeting, but over the passing days she’d somewhat convinced herself she’d embellished reality. Thinking back, she wasn’t sure if he’d done anything outside of gathering her measurements, though she’d been aroused then as well. She was very curious but also afraid to do anything foolish that might jeopardize her chances. “What kind of touching?”

“The sort that stops with the word stop.”

Her chest lifted as she considered what his touch might feel like. It had been a long time since she’d had a man’s hands on her. The whole reason for her being there was this inescapable desire to surrender and give over. Hopefully, if she figured out a way to manage such submission, the crippling fear inside her would fade.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He slowly stood and her heart steadily picked up the pace, racing so fast she expected it to burst. “Let’s go to the couch.” He took her hand, and chills raced over her shoulders.

When she faced the black leather couch, he released her hand and a shaky breath escaped her lungs. She swallowed repeatedly as he slowly circled her. Her eyes closed as his hand gently skimmed the satin covering her hip.

His fingers dragged slowly up her sides as her arms hung lifeless. The closer his touch crept to the underside of her breast, the harder her nipples grew. His palm flattened over her belly against the slip and her breathing turned audible.

Slowly, the fabric lifted as he gathered little ripples of silk in his hands. Ghosting a finger along her arms, he guided her limbs upward as the slip lifted off her body. Awareness took hold, but she shoved it away in an attempt to liberate her confidence in the face of her fears. Cool air tickled her flesh as the fabric of his clothing brushed along the backs of her thighs. He was standing very close.

“I find your body delectable, Ms. Banks.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Duval.”

“You may call me Jude.”

“Jude.”

His finger slipped under the strap of her bra and traveled from her shoulder down to the back panel. “I think this should come off, Collette.”