“Who’s the secret agent?” I heard him ask, the exaggerated whisper obviously meant to reach my ears.
“Oh, that’s Ronan. Isn’t he lovely?”
I looked over to find them both checking me out.
“This is Devon,” Summer told me, though I already knew that. “You can call him Devoid.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand as his gaze dragged up and down my body. I was tempted to ask him, point-blank, what exactly he was “devoid” of. Though maybe the answer was self-evident.
Subtlety? Half his shirt?
“Summer, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend. Are we dressing him up, too?”
“Oh!” Summer’s eyes went wide.
“No, thanks,” I said, before she got any ideas.
Too late.
“Can we??” she pleaded with me.
“Really, I’m good.”
She pouted, which I’d never seen her do before. Her lips made a plump kiss shape and I looked away. “He’s my new bodyguard,” she informed Devon/Devoid. “Wouldn’t it be everything if he escorted me to tonight’s gig in a Devoid original?”
“Everything,” he concurred.
“We could match,” she said, and they both gazed at me hopefully.
“Thanks, really,” I said. “I’m good. I’ve got clothes.”
Devoid inspected my leather motorcycle jacket, T-shirt and jeans, all black. “It would be everything,” he reiterated.
“Ugh, forget it. He’s really not as fun as he looks.” Summer hooked her arm through Devoid’s. “Take us up. Show us what you’ve been working on.”
Devoid took us upstairs. He led us down a long hallway, past other studios and into his enormous corner studio. It was a single room crammed with rolls of fabric in every imaginable hue, huge sewing tables, several desks and racks of hanging clothes.
Music was playing. There were a few women working, two at the sewing machines and another at a desk. She smiled at us and said hello to Summer, who gave her a hug.
While Devoid led Summer to the back of the studio, I took a look around—noting the two exits, the washroom, the absence of security cameras.
“You can settle your ass down, right there,” Devoid informed me, once I’d caught up with them. The back of the studio had been cleared out, painted white and furnished with sleek furniture the same neon-orange color as his hair. There was a huge three-paneled mirror facing an elevated pedestal in the middle, for trying clothes on. He’d indicated a couch facing the pedestal, so I sat down.
Devoid started pulling outfits from a rolling rack and presenting them to Summer, one-by-one. She ohhed and ahhed.
And as I watched, she started untying the knot on the side of her wrap dress. The dress swathed her curves perfectly, and I got lost in staring, maybe… because the next thing I knew, she’d spread the whole thing open and dropped it on the floor.
She was standing right in front of me—and Devoid—in her underwear, her black dress in a puddle at her feet.
Her bra and panties were see-through.
I looked away.
What the shit.
I’d fully expected her to walk into the curtained-off change area in the corner before stripping down.
I tried to look anywhere else, but it was like my eyes had been magnetized to her bare skin. The pull was too strong.
I glanced over. Summer and Devoid were still chatting, like nothing had changed. Like Summer’s sex goddess body wasn’t all out for everyone to see. In see-through nude-colored lace.
I fucking stared.
I could see her nipples. I could see a whole lot of pretty much everything.
Neither of them paid me any notice as Devoid slipped a white dress from a hanger. They were touching the fabric and talking about the hemline or something, both of them acting like Summer wasn’t the least bit almost-naked, as I quietly overheated.
My dick fucking hardened.
Correction. It was already hard.
Summer turned away, and my eyes instantly dropped to her ass. Her panties were tiny in the back, barely covering her round, yoga-toned ass cheeks… and definitely see-through.
I looked away again.
What. The fuck.
What the hell was I supposed to do?
I was frozen, my dick thudding with hunger. Maybe my heart was dead, but my body was painfully alive.
I didn’t want to draw attention by suddenly getting up and leaving, so I just sat. And tried to make a show of looking elsewhere.
I half-listened to them talking about fabric and color and whatever as I stared at the illuminated sign over the fire exit. All the while, an electric charge thrummed through my body. An awareness of her nearness, amped up a thousandfold just knowing she was so… fucking naked. The white paint on the walls was deliberately worn, the ceiling pipes exposed, and the whole studio had a cool, creative vibe. Yup. Those ceiling pipes were really interesting.
There was movement at the corner of my eye, and I prayed to whatever god might be listening that my client’s underwear was still on.
“Ronan?” Devoid said my name, maybe not for the first time, and I tuned back in. I glanced over, carefully.
Summer was standing on the pedestal, wearing the white dress. It was fitted and short, just covering her panties, with long sleeves and a plunging neckline that showed off a mouthwatering swell of cleavage. The chest part of the dress had a built-in white leather piece molded to her curves. It kinda looked like body armor.
Her hands smoothed the tight, stretchy fabric over her ass cheeks. I saw that in the mirror—and my dick spasmed in my jeans.
I leaned forward on my knees to cover it.
Was she deliberately torturing me?
I glanced at her face, but she wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking over her shoulder, checking out her ass in the mirror.
“What do you think?” Devoid asked.
He was asking me.
I cleared my throat. “It’s nice.”
They both looked at me. And blinked, like that comment fell way the fuck short of the mark.
Then Devoid turned back to Summer and started fussing over her. “Sweet sanity, bitch. This waistline.” He started plucking pins from a pincushion that was strapped to
