When I get back to the apartment in the late afternoon, I’m worn out. I’ve been pushing myself extra hard at the Institute these last few days. There haven’t been any more comments from Madame Ellis, but the exertion has taken its toll.

Eden stayed behind to meet another friend for coffee, and Mr. Drake isn’t home yet, but Carole is still here. “Baked salmon for dinner,” she tells me with a smile. She accepted my staying with the Drakes as it if were no big deal, and I appreciate her matter-of-fact attitude.

“Sounds delicious,” I tell her. “Thanks, Carole.” I head for my bedroom, ready for a nice hot bath before we eat.

I take one step inside and stop dead. “Carole? What is all this stuff?”

She comes to the door and joins me in staring at the huge pile of bags and boxes piled on my bed. “All those deliveries came for you earlier today.”

“For me? But I haven’t bought anything. Are you sure they’re not for Eden?”

“Not unless she’s changed her name to Tori Smith.” She nudges me into the room. “Go ahead, try them on.”

I shoot her a suspicious look, but she’s already on her way back to the kitchen. I pick up one of the boxes. Sure enough, my name is on it, handwritten on a slip of paper.

The lid comes off to reveal a cute, stylish, but comfortable pair of shoes. I know the brand; it’s one Eden favors. These shoes aren’t cheap.

Half reluctant, half excited, I try them on. They fit perfectly.

With that, the dam breaks. I open the rest of the packages quickly. Pants, tops, dresses, pajamas, even lingerie. Almost all of it fits, even the bras and panties. And almost all of it is in colors I like.

Eden must have done it. I don’t know how, since she was in classes with me all day, but no one else knows me that well and would be so thoughtful. Arranging all the new items neatly on the bed, I take my bath, luxuriating in the warm water.

When I get out, I pick up some of the lingerie, and it hits me that the tags are gone. I lift a bra to my nose and smell laundry detergent. Carole’s washed everything already!

Feeling ridiculously spoiled, I let myself pull on a bra and panties, a pair of leggings, a chunky knit sweater in a shade of green that goes great with my coloring, and the shoes. When I hear Eden’s voice talking to Carole, I bounce up off the bed and hurry down the hall.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I tell her, giving her a hug. “But thank you.”

“What are you talking about? You look amazing, by the way.”

I pull back to look at her. She seems genuinely puzzled, and I know practical jokes aren’t her style. “You didn’t buy me all this stuff?”

“All what stuff?”

I drag her down the hall and show her my bed. Her mouth drops open. “It wasn’t me.” She leans close to me and says, sotto voce, “You didn’t use Dad’s card?”

“No; I gave it back to him this morning.” A frisson of unease trickles down my spine.

Surely he didn’t … no. He wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have.

“Good evening, Mr. Drake.” Carole’s voice from the kitchen makes me want to peel off my new outfit, but before I can follow through, Eden grabs my hand. Now she’s the one dragging me, back to the kitchen where her father awaits.

“Hi, Dad. Doesn’t Tori look adorable?”

Mr. Drake takes in my appearance. He only gives a half-smile in response … but there’s something in his eyes that makes my breathing go shallow.

Crossing to me, he hands me a brand new phone. It’s in my favorite color – purple. “You deserve better than a cracked screen.”

That can’t be a coincidence, on top of all the other purchases. It’s true, then. It really was him who bought me a whole new wardrobe.

Mr. Drake knows my favorite colors. And he selected the lingerie that’s hugging my skin right now.

My face goes hot. I try to hand the phone back to him, but Eden grabs it away from me and starts programming it. “Now I’m jealous,” she says as her fingers fly across the keys. “This model only came out a week ago.”

“One for you too,” he says, handing her an identical phone, but in red.

“Daddy! I was just teasing … but I won’t say no. Thank you!”

She throws her arms around him and kisses his cheek, then starts programming both phones at once. I steel my spine and meet Mr. Drake’s eyes. “Could I speak to you in your office, please?”

He follows me without a word, shutting the door behind us. I lace my fingers together and get right to the point. “I can’t accept these things.”

Mr. Drake’s jaw firms. He folds his arms. “Yes, you can.”

Damn. He’s hot when he’s bossy. With an effort, I pull myself together. “It’s very kind of you. But really, I can’t.”

He doubles down on the bossiness. “I’m not returning them.”

“I don’t want your pity!”

It bursts out of me, more temper than pain. His eyes snap back at me. “It has nothing to do with pity.”

I throw my arms out. “Then what?”

“To make you happy.” His voice lowers, comes out in a rumbling whisper. “I wanted to make you happy.”

Our eyes lock. The air goes electric. I can’t breathe, can’t look away.

I wanted to make you happy. We’re only a few inches apart, and I’ve never seen this look in a man’s eyes before, but I think I know what it means.

He wants to kiss me.

I want him to kiss me.

His head lowers … and Eden bursts through the door.

“Can we eat? I’m starving.” She hands me my phone. “I’ve got everything programmed in except for your parents’ numbers. You’re on our family plan.”

I don’t dare look at him as we go back out to the kitchen. Mr. Drake. Ashton.

I’m ninety percent positive he almost kissed me just now. Would have, if Eden hadn’t interrupted.

Dinner passes in a daze. Afterwards, when Eden wants to watch tv, I plead fatigue and go to my bedroom. Carefully, I hang up some clothes, fold other items and put them in drawers, slide the shoes into the appropriate storage slots.

The bags and boxes I gather up and leave by the door. Only then do I allow myself to climb under the covers in one of my new pairs of pajamas (also purple).

My desire was simply to be alone, to think, but my body has other plans.

My hand, all on its own, slips inside my pajama bottoms. I trace one finger over my crease, rubbing it through the silky material of my panties. “Ashton,” I whisper.

I pretend it’s him touching me. My eyes close, my finger moving up to circle my clit, then back down to stroke over my pussy. I bite my lip, and my hips lift, inviting my imaginary lover inside.

Now my hand delves inside my panties, my fingers parting my folds. I’m wet, and I draw the slickness up and over my clit. “Ashton,” I moan softly.

In my mind, he’s kissing me, touching me, his body covering mine. Sensation spirals up inside me, swirling in my core, growing stronger, swelling outward.

“Ashton!” I rub directly over my clit, and the spark ignites my whole body. I tense, my hips jerking as the climax crashes over me in waves, curling my toes, making my nipples go hard.

When it ebbs, I feel the shame. I roll on my side and curl up, as if hiding from what I’ve done. If Eden knew … she’d never forgive me.

Maybe Ashton really was going to kiss me – but it’s good that he didn’t, no matter how much I wanted him to. Eden would never understand. I know he doesn’t want to hurt her, and neither do I.

Even if he did want me, we could never be together.

Resolving once again to forget all about my feelings for him, I close my eyes and will myself to sleep.