Page 20 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY
KNIGHT
Her thighs will be the death of me.
L ife is a cruel joke. My punishment for staying and watching Vivian strip down last night will surely be paid in full in a few minutes.
I need to walk over to her office if I’m going to make the appointment we scheduled for my fitting.
She kindly texted me a reminder last night when I was trying to get my cock to settle down after watching her alluring display.
The whole reason I volunteered for this showcase was to take the spot away from Vivian. One might call me a spiteful asshole for doing so, and I wouldn’t disagree. My sacrifice almost seemed worth it until Alek managed to find an extra spot in the performance lineup, making it worth nothing.
Not only would I have to see Vivian perform on stage, but now I’d be making a fool of myself for no reason.
I’m not a dancer. My body has only known the labor of the typical sports you see in schools—football, soccer, etc.
And even then, it’s been so long that I hardly am in tune with my body as I once was.
This is going to be a disaster.
Pausing outside Vivian’s door, I give myself a moment to breathe, in an attempt to dispel my anxiety.
I’m just as nervous about my fitting as I am about my performance later this month.
There are things I keep hidden that I’ll have to navigate carefully during this appointment, and with my activities from last night, the list of secrets keeps growing and growing.
Working up the courage to come in, I knock once and open the door to the small room. Vivian stands not a foot away from the entrance, paused mid-step like she was coming over to open the door herself.
“Hi.” The small greeting is all I can manage.
“Hey,” she replies, just as meekly. Maybe this is an awkward occasion for her, too. One day, I was pinning her against the wall as my fingers coaxed her pussy, and the next day, I was a complete jerk to her.
It all led to this situation.
“Come in and lock the door, please,” Vivian orders, breaking the silence that was building. She turns around, seeming confident that I’ll follow her orders. I do.
My feet drag as I walk toward her. The guilt from the things I’ve done is a piling weight on my shoulders.
“It’ll be easier to get your measurements if you could take off your suit jacket, please.” Vivian stands in front of a barstool, measuring tape and notepad in hand. How is she so calm with me?
How does she not know the type of man I am?
Nodding, I shrug off my jacket and place it on a nearby chair. I’m left standing in my pants, a thin dress shirt, and a wide-shouldered athletic tank top underneath it. Unsure of how fittings usually go, I decided to wear the tank top in case she needed me to strip down further than this.
“Take a seat, and I’ll start measuring you. Then we can talk about costume options,” Vivian says, nodding her head toward the stool only a few feet in front of her.
As I take a seat, I note how she’s much too close and way too far at the same time. After seeing her last night, gloriously stripped down to almost nothing, it would only be fair for her to demand the same of me.
And honestly? I would give her whatever she wanted. I would bare my all to her and show her my secrets . If only she commanded it.
Half sitting and half leaning, one of my legs anchors to the floor, while the other bends at the knee to rest my foot on the stool’s base. The second I’m settled, my eyes roam from the floor in front of me to take in Vivian.
She’s dressed casually today. Dark gray leggings cover her legs but leave nothing to the imagination.
They are tight and outline all the right places, like they were made for her.
Perhaps they were. I wouldn’t be surprised if the immense talent before me made her own clothing as well.
The pants cinch closed with a drawstring at her waist, and only a tantalizing sliver of skin shows between the top of her pants and the crop top she wears.
My eyes widen, taking in the imagery on her crop top.
A Gothic castle, similar to one you might see in an old horror film, is centered on the stonewashed shirt.
The grandeur of the artwork and the decorative trim lining the castle are not unlike something I see every day, but there isn’t any way she could know that.
This is just an odd coincidence, that’s all.
“Knight?” Vivian’s voice rips me from my thoughts.
“Yes?” I ask, searching her face, as if I could find whatever question or direction I missed from her while I was lost within my mind.
“I asked if it was okay to get your waist and chest measured first,” she replies, a little tilt of confusion lining her voice.
“Yes, that’s fine.” I nod. “What do you need me to do?”
“You’re good on the stool since you’re straightened up already.” Vivian closes the space between us, and the front of her thigh brushes just a fraction against my bent leg. “Now, hold your arms out.”
My throat bobs with my nervous gulp. The effect of having her so close to me is instant. I follow her order immediately, holding my arms at my sides. She leans in, her chest almost pressing against mine as she reaches her hands behind me to finish the loop of her measuring tape.
Her fingers bump into my back for only a brief second, and I silently pray she didn’t feel any of the scarring there. When I hear the sliding of her fingers against the tape, I close my eyes in relief. My scars aren’t something I’d like to touch on today.
Vivian’s head stays in place as she adjusts the tape on my torso, and my resolve is caving in the longer she stays near me. An animalistic part of my brain screams at me to take in her scent, with her being so close.
Inconspicuously as I can, I breathe in her aroma. It’s as bold and dark as her wardrobe. The scent of her is becoming dangerously familiar.
My eyes are closed, and I am lost in the moment, so I don’t notice when she leans back and dips her head to read the numbers on her measuring tape. It’s only when I feel the delicate press of her hand to my chest that I’m pulled back into reality.
She stays close. The height difference usually found between us isn’t here as I lean on the stool and she stands before me. Lust swirls in her eyes, not unlike what I saw in them last night as she danced sensually to a song I’ve been desperately trying to find.
Vivian’s face is so close to mine that only a few inches separate our lips. I want to surge forward and take her lips. I want to confess everything and plead for my forgiveness between her thighs.
“Why did you try to take my spot in the showcase?” she asks, and the question still stuns me, even though I had a feeling she was going to ask it.
My fingers twitch with restraint. She’s standing between my open legs now, and it would be so fucking easy to wrap my hands around her ass and pull her onto me.
“I-I don’t know,” I whisper, wanting to break our eye contact but not daring to look away from the intensity of her stare.
“I don’t believe that. Try again,” she demands. Somewhere, I hear the tape measure fall, and the hand Vivian had on my chest moves upward, encasing the base of my throat. She doesn’t apply pressure, but the feeling of her fingers against my bare skin makes me dizzy all the same.
“You’re not allowed on stage,” I grit, trying to show more confidence than I actually have right now.
“Oh, I’m sorry?” Her tone is vicious, and her eyes narrow in clear anger. “I wasn’t aware that my boss—the same guy who finger-fucked me in an alley and then treated me like nothing a few days afterward—got to dictate what I do or don’t do for fun.”
“No, no.” I panic. “Vivian, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? From my perspective, it seems like you’re doing everything you can to control me and push me away at the same time.” Her voice is strained like she’s about to cry, and it’s a dagger straight to my heart.
“I don’t want to see you on stage. How am I supposed to pretend like your performance is like any other?” My hand wraps around her wrist when she tries to let go of my throat, keeping her there as I continue. “When I’m sure it will be nothing short of a revelation.”
“What—” Vivian begins, but I cut her off by wrapping my free hand around her waist and yanking her so she sits astride my thigh.
“How am I supposed to hide what you do to me, darling?” I ask, tilting my hip so my hard cock presses almost against her knee.
“Move closer and feel what you do to me. Isn’t that what you told me in the alley?
” Squeezing her ass, I drag her against my thigh, moving her closer but still not letting her have contact with my cock.
She’ll have to take that step on her own.
“Feel me like how I feel the heat of your hot cunt on my thigh right now.”