Chapter 1
“You’re half an hour late, Mia! I swear, if you didn’t bring my iced Americano, I’m locking you out—”
I yanked the door open. The AC blasted out, and my complaint died in my throat.
It wasn’t my best friend with coffee. It was a total stranger.
He was incredibly tall. His light gray linen shirt had the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, giving off a sharp, high-powered vibe. The sunlight spilled over his shoulder into the entryway, making me squint.
He didn’t speak right away. His dark eyes did a slow, lazy crawl from my face down to my neck.
I could physically feel the heat of that stare. Everywhere his eyes touched, my skin flared with embarrassment.
When his gaze hit my chest, my breath caught.
The heavy scrutiny didn’t stop there. It kept dragging down, past my stomach, landing dead center on my upper thighs.
Under that look, my skin uncontrollably flushed and tightened.
That was when it hit me. I was wearing nothing but a sheer, flimsy lace sleep-slip. Barely any underwear, and completely barefoot.
Those three seconds of silence felt like sheer torture.
“Looks like I caught you at a bad time,” he finally said. His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone, edged with a dark kind of amusement.
“You—” My fingertips buzzed with humiliation. I was about to slam the door in his face when a hand with bright red nails grabbed the frame.
“Surprise, honey!”
Aunt Martha popped out from behind him, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair. “Judging by your face, I’d say it worked.”
“Martha!” I shrieked. Screw looking cool—I spun around and bolted for my bedroom.
Martha’s loud, unapologetic laugh echoed behind me. “Where are you running? Evan just said it was a ‘very spirited welcome’!”
I threw myself into my closet, frantically pulling on denim cutoffs and a white tee.
I yanked the hem of the shirt down to make sure it covered the shorts, then stepped back out.
“What, too stunned to speak?” Martha was already strutting into the apartment in her heels, oozing her usual arrogance.
“Didn’t your mom tell you? We’re crashing here for the weekend.” She tossed her expensive leather bag onto my beat-up couch without even looking at me. “Your Uncle Evan just won a massive indie design award and needs a fit model. Your mom begged him for ages before he agreed to custom-make your graduation dress.”
I froze, my eyes darting toward the door.
Evan was just pulling it shut. With a soft click, his presence seemed to suck all the air out of my tiny apartment. He looked even bigger inside. When he set down his tool bag, I could see the muscles shifting under his linen shirt.
He stayed quiet. Those dark eyes locked onto me with the raw, unapologetic focus of a predator sizing up its prey.
“Don’t just stand there. Come here.” Martha sank into the sofa, already scrolling on her phone. “Let Evan take your measurements. He’s quick.”
I looked at her, desperate. “Can’t... can’t you do it?”
“I’m not your maid. He’s the pro, what are you so scared of?” She rolled her eyes, her attention fully hijacked by her social media feed.
Evan had already pulled a cream-colored measuring tape from his bag. He stood dead center in the living room, tilting his head to motion me over. His voice dropped to a low rumble, feeling like it was right in my ear. “Step over here, Shirley. Arms up. Relax.”
I walked over like a puppet on a string, my heart pounding so hard I thought my ribs would crack.
He stepped behind me.
I couldn’t see him, but his scent—cold cedar and sea salt—wrapped around me completely. The snap of the measuring tape was deafening in the quiet room.
Then, he knelt.
The cold tape wrapped around my hips, but his warm fingertips pressed—maybe intentionally, maybe not—against the bare skin of my outer thighs.
I jolted. The touch sent a tiny electrical shock zipping up my legs straight to my core.
He didn’t move his hand away. He let it rest there for three whole seconds. I could feel the slight roughness of his fingertips brushing against my shivering skin.
He knew. He absolutely felt me tremble.
“Hold still, Shirley.”
He stood up slightly. His warm breath brushed the back of my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest.
“Listen to Evan,” he murmured, his voice heavy with control. “If the numbers are off, your dress won’t fit... quite so perfectly.”
I bit my lip hard, too terrified to turn around. Martha was still chuckling at her phone on the couch, completely blind to the fact that right here, in this tiny space, this man had me completely trapped with just his eyes and his fingertips.
