“No. Not that one.”
His voice wasn’t even raised. Just low. Deep. Soaked in command. Sky froze in the middle of the fitting room, arms halfway raised, the fifth dress clinging to her sweat-slicked skin.
Xavier didn’t even look at her face. Just her body. Arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps flexing beneath his rolled-up sleeves. The veins on his forearms bulged. His jaw clenched. That dark, amused smirk played on his lips like he knew exactly how much she hated this, and how wet it made her.
Sky growled and slammed her hands into the air. “Xavier, what the f**k?! That’s the fifth dress. I’m hot, I’m tired, and my cunt’s still sore!”
His eyes narrowed just slightly. The smirk grew.
“Then shut the f**k up and put the next one on.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You’re….Fuck…God, you’re
