Page 24 of Bronson

He holds it out to me, judging the fabric against my skin. “Try this one.”

“Please?” I say jokingly.

His brow rises. “Now.”

A shiver runs down my spine, my pussy clenching. I hope he can’t see my hard nipples through my dress.

He holds the coat out, waiting for me to comply.

I slide my arms into the white silk lining. It feels like cool clean water against my skin.

A perfect fit.

I look down, admiring the coat. My hands run over the thick fabric. “How’d you know my size?”

“Easy. You’re tiny.”

“Well, I don’t know about that⁠—”

My words catch in my throat as he takes a step toward me. We stand only inches apart. “May I?” he asks. His long fingers reach for the first button without waiting for my permission.

I look up at him. Our gazes meet. His eyes are soft, caring. Beautiful. There’s something in the way he is looking at me that makes my heart beat faster. My knees go weak.

“Yes,” I whisper. His fingers are already on the button. I feel the slightest pressure against my breast.

He’s so close—I can smell his scent. I can feel his breath against my cheek as he slips the button through the loop. His hands lower. He buttons the second one. Then, his fingers are at my waist, slipping the final button through the loop. Butterflies tickle my tummy.

His fingers linger. His eyes meet mine once more. His face is leaning down. His lips are so close to mine. I think he might kiss me.

“You look beautiful.” His hands drop from the coat. He takes a step back.

I’m left trembling.

Disappointment washes over me, confusing me. Had I wanted him to kiss me? I was a silly girl for thinking he might. The moment’s gone; I remember I’m just a poor employee who he feels sorry for. One he’s buying a coat for.

He would have done it for anyone.

Right?

I swallow hard. “Thank you.”

My gaze catches my reflection in the long mirror.

I look… stunning. Grown up. Elegant.

But there is no smile on my face. I realize it has to cost a small fortune. Reality begins to sink in. As much as I want to own this beautiful piece of fashion, I can’t let him drop such a sum on me. What would I owe him, then? Years of being on my own have taught me one thing—nothing in this world is free.

It pains me to say the words. “I… I can’t let you buy me this coat.”

His eyes study my face. What he sees there makes him decide against arguing with me. “Consider it a loaner then.”

“A loaner?”

“You keep it, this winter. When it warms up, you can return it to me. I’ll store it in the office in case someone needs it next winter.” His eyes softly caress my body. “Although, I must say, no other woman will be able to do this coat justice. It looks as if it were made for you.”

My heart flutters against my breastbone.

Of course, the pesky salesgirl makes this her moment to show up.