~ Ares

 

I was hungry, but not for food.

After a long day at the office, I could usually wolf down an entire Porterhouse with sides—more if I’d had my evening workout. But I’d been distracted as hell since my first appointment of the day.

And I wasn’t easily distracted.

If you were to ask the general public, they would probably disagree. To them, I’m a master of distractions: parties; drunken antics; and women abound. They’re tough critics; even tougher than I thought, now their opinion has got the stockholders on my case.

Apparently, I’m not clean-cut enough to run my own goddamn company.

Makes me wonder what they might think if they could see me now. I lounged, utterly naked, across the bed, my back propped up against the headboard.

“Where’d you go, Ares?” From between my thighs, Athena lifted her pretty red mouth from my cock to address me. “You look like you’re a thousand miles away.”

I grimaced, shoving her back down where she belonged. I hadn’t invited her over to play therapist. Right now, I needed her to do what she did best. Mind you, she certainly didn’t look bad as a fixture in the lobby, and she was at least passable at her job. But what Athena did best was wrap her lips around my dick. Usually, it took less than five minutes to send me to a plane of complete relaxation.

But today was different.

Athena’s tongue was pulling all the same mind-blowing tricks, but I just wasn’t into it. My mind was full of blonde hair and oversized, ungodly suits. To be more accurate, I was contemplating what that suit hid. The moment I got my hands on sweet, cherubic Ava Parker, I could tell there was more to her than met the eye.

And there was a lot that met the eye.

While Athena’s tongue swirled around my shaft, I thought of Ava and how she walked into my office. She was the polar opposite of the kind of women I tended to hire. She didn’t wear expertly tailored suits and stilettos, and she wasn’t made-up to the nines. That long blonde hair of hers was pulled into a haphazard bun atop her neck and her clothes were all but falling off her. I spent a good minute or so trying to figure out if it was personal preference or monetary issues that lent her that particular look.

What was immediately clear to me, however, was that Ava used her image as a shield. If you took the time to look beyond the frump she tried to exude, there was an angelic beauty that just begged to be manhandled.

While her behavior might have been professional enough, there was something about those wide green eyes and that plump, small mouth. I wanted to run my fingers over the light sprinkling of freckles that painted her skin and taste the long, elegant line of her neck. Her pale, porcelain skin gave me a raging hard on as I contemplated what it might be like to mark up every inch of it with bites and licks as she squirmed beneath me.

She was small—not quite five and a half feet—but not even the baggy clothes she wore could detract from the curves beneath. When I finally had her pressed up against me, her trim waist and ample chest were apparent. With skin as pale as hers, I wondered what color her nipples might be—soft and pink? A darker, duskier brown?

If it hadn’t been for Margaret’s intervention, I might have found out right then and there in the office.

Unlike most women I dealt with, Ava hadn’t tried to play coy. She’d been nothing but professional for the entire duration of our meeting—which meant that I had actually absorbed maybe half of what she said. Something about re-doing my entire image and avoiding certain behaviors for the welfare of my company name.

What the fuck ever.

By the time our meeting was over, I’d decided that I would have her, if for nothing else than to show her that taming me was a little more complicated than an eight-step plan.

But then, something happened that I hadn’t expected. When I went after her, the angelic Ava froze. In hindsight, I realized her behavior was more like that of a startled deer in headlights than like a horny woman who wanted to climb a man like a goddamned tree. Oh, she had trembled and her body had certainly gone soft the moment I got near her, but she hadn’t given in to me.

I couldn’t remember the last time a woman told me no. Some might call me spoiled, but I knew better. For the past decade, the entirety of the female sex had all been throwing themselves at me—young and old, for money and power or even for just the pure, hedonistic joy of it.

Ava, I knew now, was not one of those women.

Maybe that was why she was so goddamned interesting.

Reaching down, I hooked a finger beneath the leather collar Athena wore. While I usually didn’t have a problem bedding women, it was rare that I found one willing to indulge my love for total and complete control.

I should have been pounding Athena into the mattress, but, somehow, my thoughts were elsewhere. When I tugged her mouth off my cock, the redhead pouted. “I wasn’t done yet…”

I growled in a combination of irritation and oddly unsated lust. “Yes, you were.” Before she could protest further, I flipped her onto her stomach, urging her onto her hands and knees on the bed. I was so hard it hurt but ironically it had nothing to do with the pert ass in front of me. When I smacked a perfect cheek hard enough to leave a welt in the shape of my hand, the shameless woman in my bed groaned, wiggling in a physical plea for more.

But I was in no mood to toy with her. Not anymore. Taking two handfuls of her ass, I thrust into her in a smooth motion, cleaving so deep she squealed and tightened on me divinely.

It still wasn’t enough.

I bored Athena’s slim, heavenly body to the mattress, pressing her flat against the covers as I fucked her almost mindlessly. I needed release, and I needed it fast. I’d been hard as a rock, testing the seam of my zipper, since morning, and fucking God if I didn’t get off soon, heaven help the next person in my path.

As usual, Athena’s tight little pussy was mind-blowing, earth-shattering, even, but there was something contrived in the way she wriggled. Her moans and groans were exaggerated, for my ears only, and for once, the realization made me frown. Athena was fucking me because she knew she was supposed to. Because she came into this with the same needs and expectations as I did, and because she probably feared her job was on the line. While I was never so petty as to fire a woman I slept with just because I slept with her (I’d be down half my staff if that was the case), she’d never know it. Athena was here as a result of some desperate, needy lust that, all at once, disgusted me.

“Fuck.” The word left me on a low hiss as I pulled out of her. I was just as pissed at her as I was at myself, and even more infuriated because I had no fucking idea why I was pissed. “We’re done. Get out.”

Athena straightened immediately, her expression morphing from needy to shocked in two seconds flat. “Excuse me?”

God, she was gorgeous. Her nipples were pierced and her mouth was still wet from my dick... but somehow, she wasn’t doing it for me tonight.

“I said go. We’re done.”

Athena opened her mouth before shutting it. After a moment of disbelief, her face twisted in fury and she slipped from the bed, grabbing her clothing on the way out of the bedroom. Five minutes later, the front door to the penthouse slammed, leaving me alone with my still raging hard on.

Fuck me. I’d just kicked a gorgeous woman out of my home in the middle of fucking her.

I stared down at my erection as if it were to blame for getting me into this situation; which, in part, it was. My dick didn’t want Athena. It wanted Ava. Sweet little Ava Parker, wearing the same collar and fuck-me eyes as Athena, vulnerable and in my bed.

The mere thought was enough to make my dick twitch in excitement.

Still scowling, I rose from the bed to stalk, naked, into the bathroom. What the hell was it about the new publicist that had me so damned absorbed? If anything, the fact that she hadn’t given in to me should have sent me in the other direction. If she didn’t want me, there were literally hundreds of thousands of women who did.

But dammit none of them were like Ava. None of them stared up at me with that same wide-eyed, curious wonder and animosity all at the same time. None of them took such affront when I suggested there were darker parts of themselves that they were hiding.

Muttering an entire dictionary of curses under my breath, I turned on the shower. By the time the cold spray fell over me, I’d already been stroking my cock absently for almost a full minute. How could someone with Ava’s wide-eyed innocence please me? She’d probably never been with a guy who didn’t do her missionary style and then thank her for it afterward.

The notion was enough to make me smirk.

If little Miss Parker let me into her bed, she’d be the one doing the thanking. I’d make her feel things she had only ever imagined... and I wouldn’t stop until she couldn’t remember her own name. Leaning against the pristine marble wall, I groaned, now touching myself with concrete intentions. I could see Ava’s face clearly in my mind’s eye. The way her lips would part as I slid inside her and her eyes would flutter shut as I made her mine. I could feel her slender fingers tangling in my hair as I buried my face between her legs to taste her sweetness.

My grip tightened around my shaft as I sped up, bucking into my own ministrations. Jesus Christ, I wanted her under me. Around me. I wanted to feel her coming on my cock with my name on that decadent mouth of hers.

“Shit!” I all but panted the low epithet as I felt my balls tighten in anticipation of my cresting orgasm. Obviously, the cold water was doing nothing for me. I was even harder than when I’d entered the shower, on the edge of what promised to be a mind-blowing climax.

How would Ava react if my hand came down on that pert ass of hers? She thought she could hide it in those baggy clothes but I knew. Would she squirm and scream? Would she try to get away? Or would she just take it, letting me have my way with her as I bent her over my desk.

I came so hard I almost forgot how to fucking breathe. The arm bracing me against the wall stiffened as my orgasm tore through me, hitting the cold marble in long, hot spurts.

Looked like the shower had been a good idea after all.

After a life of clawing my way up from the very bottom, I liked to think that there was little that could shock me. Getting off to the face of a woman I’d just met—a woman who I very foolishly gave a vital stake in my future—shocked the hell out of me.

Enough so that I stood in the cold-ass shower for a good five minutes after I got my rocks off, wondering what the hell had just happened. When I finally came back to my senses and rinsed off, I found myself running a gauntlet of emotions. I felt better having emptied my balls, of course, but I was also pissed with myself and irritated in equal measure. I’d kicked Athena out for no good reason and now I was going to have to deal with her bullshit at the office. I was wrapped up in the idea of a woman I barely even knew—a woman who, in reality, presented far more of a threat than an asset, as far as I was concerned.

I didn’t like publicists. I never had. I learned before I turned thirty that they were little more than glorified babysitters, always concerned with postulating on how every move I made would make someone look bad. They were good for slipping away from after I pissed them off and ultimately, driving away in sheer frustrated agony but, something told me that Ava Parker would be different than the ones who came before her.

Men, I dealt with easily - I just had to piss them off enough that they went crying back to their companies and begged to be reassigned. Older women tended to give up when they found I didn’t think I owed them shit just because they were potential mommy figures. The younger ones I tended to fuck—if they were my type. Ava didn’t exactly fall in line with standard operating procedure, but I could make her.

That was, after all, my modus operandi—I could make most women want things they had never even imagined. Who was to say I couldn’t make Ava want me? I would certainly have enough opportunities in the coming weeks and months.

I’d draw her to me like a moth to a flame, use her as I saw fit, and then rid myself of another babysitter in the making. In my entire life, there had only been one woman I was unable to mold exactly the way I wanted and, she hardly merited an overly sentimental flashback at this juncture. Laura was old news and I wouldn’t waste another second of my time beating myself over the head over her. I hadn’t looked to the past for a long damn time and I wasn’t about to start now.

Not when the future was so much more tantalizing.

**

The next week was a busy one—not that I ever had a week where I wasn’t run ragged. I’d long ago learned that the price of success was time. I put a shitload of time and dedication into my work and undoubtedly fulfilled my dreams, but that usually meant I was working overtime to maintain my empire. I flew to Seattle for a series of meetings that lasted three days and spent the weekend in Dubai negotiating a new land acquisition with some heavy hitters.

By the time Monday rolled around, I was exhausted—not to mention antsy as hell. I’d hadn’t been laid in days and, for the sake of my image, apparently, I wasn’t allowed more than a nightcap every day.

This meant that I was already a lion on the prowl by the time my next meeting with Ava Parker rolled around. I knew that little drinking restriction was her fault, and I intended to see her duly punished for it.

Of course, I didn’t expect to be caught off guard by the mere sight of her. The woman walked into the conference room just as I was finishing up a presentation and I had to fight my body’s instant reaction. It was one thing to pop an erection when we were alone, but it would likely scar potential clients for life—and I wasn’t that crass.

“Mr. Wolfe.” She waltzed right over to shake my hand with a sunny smile on her face as if I hadn’t thought about fucking her against my office door the last time we saw one another. “Nice to see you again.”

Nice was an understatement. My sex-starved mind was already kicking into overdrive. Not even the sight of the shapeless brown tweed dress she wore could deter my lecherous thoughts. Not when I strongly suspected she was wearing silk and lace under the frump. “You as well, Miss Parker.” I held her hand for a bit longer than was necessary, a clear power play, but she merely slipped away the moment she was able with no visible effects.

“I was told that you had time to discuss your PR schedule for the upcoming month. Have you finished here?”

She might be a tiny little thing, but the woman was certainly the take-charge type. She wasn’t intimidated in the slightest by the men in Valentino suits eying her curiously as they filed out.

“I have.” She wasn’t going to come easy that much was easy to see, but that just meant it would be all the sweeter when she did give in to me. “Have a seat.” I gestured to the nearest available chair. “Coffee?”

“Tea, if you have it.”

God, I wanted to wipe that lovely, professional smile right off her face and replace it with something more carnal. I wanted her screaming.

“Margaret?” I gestured to my assistant, who was eying Ava like she was something she had just scraped off the bottom of her shoe. “Tea and coffee please?”

It often occurred to me that certain feelings I cultivated in the workplace were hardly healthy, but I tended to overlook them until they began to interfere with my workday. I hardly had time to admonish Margaret just now, but something in me didn’t like her looking at Ava like that. “Now, Margaret.”

“Of course, Sir. My apologies.” At the steel in my voice, she hurried away, leaving Ava and me to our own devices.

“First,” Ava glanced at the double doors, making sure we were completely alone, “I suppose I should ask how you’re doing without your…” she cleared her throat, looking for a way to pose the question delicately. “Your libations?”

I snorted, unable to help it. So, the dry spell was at her behest. I wondered how she might feel about me wrapping my fingers around my throat and fucking her, hard! “You think I’m an alcoholic.”

“No offense, Mr. Wolfe, but there does seem to be a lot of evidence in favor of the notion.”

It seemed having the contract signed had emboldened her—cheeky little bitch. It was as amusing as it was infuriating. I merely sighed, taking a seat as I rested one arm on the conference table forlornly. “I assure you, while it’s not the kindest thing you could have done, I’m hardly experiencing withdrawal symptoms.”

“Wonderful.” She beamed as if I’d just given her a compliment. “Of course, there should be no problem with you drinking at social functions, as long as you keep things under control.”

I drummed my fingers against the table irately. “I’m never out of control.”

“Aren’t you?” Her question came, saccharine sweet, a moment before she tossed several gossip columns on the table before me, one at a time. Each of their covers featured a less flattering image of me than the last, and I couldn’t deny that I was thoroughly soused in all of them. I glanced from the images to her smug expression.

Too smug.

“What happened to the sweet, professional Miss Parker that was so enthused to be working with me?” I arched a brow, eying the little demon with more wariness than I had a week ago.

“You tried to kiss her,” she returned, just as sweetly as she accused me of being victim to my vices. “So now we play hardball.”

Dear God, I had underestimated the hell out of this woman. It was hot as hell. I raised my hands in surrender—at least, that was what I wanted her to think. “All right, fair enough. Let’s talk about the schedule, then.”

Her surprised expression told me that she suspected a little more of a fight. I was glad to have caught her off guard. “All right.” She reached down to pull a file from the battered leather briefcase she carried, exposing the tantalizing line of her spine.

I reached down to discreetly adjust myself before she could straighten.

“So, first thing, next week you have an appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel show.”

Interesting, but hardly novel. I’d been on Kimmel before, to pretty good fanfare. “You’re going to apologize for certain behaviors in your past and introduce the concept that you’re a remade man.”

I almost choked on my own saliva. “I’m sorry, what?”

She was smirking. “It’s fairly common move in the industry when you’re trying to rebrand your image. Issue a public apology and then follow up on it. Show people how clean-cut you can be.”

I stared at her. At thirty-two years old, I was hardly aware that getting my rocks off and going to a few parties were punishable offenses. It was, honestly, the least harm I could do. With my childhood, I was lucky I wasn’t shooting up in a nearby crack house. “So, now I’m a goody two-shoes?” I inquired dryly. “Something tells me that will be rather hard to believe.”

“Not if we do something about this.” Ava proceeded to gesture to the entirety of my person and my brow shot right back up to where it had been at the beginning of this particular conversation.

“This?” My voice was deadpan, my gaze challenging. “What is ‘this?’”

Ava merely sighed, reaching up to toy with the blonde braid that hung over her shoulder. It was a tell, I would soon learn, the only sign that the otherwise confident woman was nervous. “May I be frank, Mr. Wolfe?”

“If we’re going there, you might as well call me Ares,” I returned, more than a little curious as to where all this was going.

“Ares,” Ava folded her hands onto her lap before her matter-of-factly. “When people look at you, they don’t think ‘wholesome.’”

The way she spoke, one might think I was running around in bondage gear. In the spirit of the game, however, I bit my tongue, instead inviting her to continue with a wordless gesture. “You... well, you cut a very imposing figure. And the suits you wear... they show your figure off to great effect.”

In any other scenario, I might think she was paying me a compliment. But I knew better. She was obviously about to drop a bomb on me and was buttering me up for it. Even though I knew what was coming that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the way she stealthily gave me a full up and down. Compared to her, I was a fucking giant, and I would have liked nothing more than to toss her around like a little rag-doll.

“But, I think it might help if you dressed a bit more... conservatively.”

I couldn’t help the laughter that welled in me. Within minutes, I was chuckling, the sound of my amusement filling the room.

Ava scowled, crossing her arms over an ample bosom she couldn’t quite hide. “What’s funny?”

It took me a minute to get hold of myself, but once I did, I considered that adorable pout of hers. “I don’t exactly prance around naked, Ava.”

I’d chosen my words carefully, and her reaction was well worth it. The blonde’s face flushed darkly as she looked away, finding herself suddenly very preoccupied with the wood paneling that covered the walls. “Not naked, but those suits... they’re certainly very…”

“Tailored.” I was enjoying this far too much. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘tailored.’”

“Suggestive,” she snapped back, her cheeks still burning, “was the word I was looking for. Every woman with eyes can see your goods, Ares, and it doesn’t exactly detract from the idea that you’re a womanizer.”

She was fucking precious—and had all but admitted to sneaking a peek at my dick. “Do you think I’m a womanizer?” In her current state, I was keen on hearing her answer.

Unfortunately, Ava redirected the conversation with heartbreaking ease. “It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what your stockholders and the rest of the planet think. Which means you need some new clothes.”

So, there it was. She wanted to play dress up. I suppose I could agree to that—as long as it was on my terms.

“Fine.” I blew out a breath, straightening to look her in the eye challengingly. “You want me to dress like a pastor? I’ll do my best. But I have a condition.”

“A pastor? Please, Ares, don’t be dramatic.” It took her a moment to realize what I said, and when she did, her gaze narrowed warily. “What kind of condition?”

I couldn’t help the anticipatory smile that split my face. “I get to dress you, too.”

Ava’s pretty mouth dropped open and I enjoyed the taste of triumph for a good minute or so while she recovered. “There is nothing wrong,” she finally retorted tightly, “with the way I dress.”

“Of course not,” I replied mildly. “If you’re representing up-and-comers and will never be forced into the spotlight yourself. If that were the situation, you could dress as you like.” I must have hit a nerve, as her cheeks went ruddy again. “But, I assure you, that is not the case here, Ava. You’ll be seen with me, and often. I refuse to allow you to appear by my side as you are now.” I was pushing, and I rightfully expected her to push back.

I wasn’t disappointed.

“I’m your publicist, Ares, not your flavor of the week. I’m not dressing up just to stand beside you.”

“Well then, I suppose I’m keeping my suits.” I leaned back in my chair, pillowing my head on my hands casually. “I might have them cut a little narrower too, just for shits and giggles.”

If Ava’s expression was any indication, she didn’t like that proposal one bit. For a split second, I even thought she might call me a nasty name. But, again, I underestimated her poise. The blonde took a visible breath before shifting in her seat, her spine ramrod straight. The motion pulled the baggy material of her dress tight against her chest and I found myself paying attention like a good little boy, even if I was anything but.

“All right, fine. One outfit. And I get to dress you for the next month of functions.”

That was a tall order. This outfit was going to be borderline pornographic. “Done.” I rose, moving to the door.

Ava’s eyes widened. “Where are you going? We haven’t even gotten through the first week of appearances!”

I eyed her in mock surprise. “You promised me an outfit. So, we’re getting you an outfit.”

You might have picked up her jaw from the floor. “What, now?”

“It’s my lunch hour.” I extended my free hand to her. “Unless you’d have me go to my tailor instead?”

That was enough to call back her resolve. Setting her jaw, the blonde popped up from her seat, ignoring my hand completely. “Fine.” She gathered her papers and turned on her heel to march from the room in righteous fury.

I watched her ass wiggle the whole way, quite proud of myself. Ava might be a tough customer, but I was no fucking pushover. The game was just getting started.

She was waiting in the lobby when I arrived, still indignant and frustrated with her lack of control. I knew that look better than anyone. When I made my way over to her, I pointedly ignored the glare Athena shot me across the lobby. I doubted she’d ever forgive me for booting her, and that fact might eventually lose me a receptionist.

I cared less about that than I did about the stiff woman by my side. I couldn’t wait to see what Ava’s sexy little body looked like half-dressed. Who knew? Maybe some rich fabrics against her skin would soften her a little.

And then I’d go in for the kill.

“I’m not spending a mint on this outfit.” She had a lot of demands, all of which she listed while we rode to our destination in the back of my Rolls. “And it has to be appropriate. I’m not showing off anything I’m not comfortable with. And it can’t be pink. I despise pink.”

I didn’t think I’d ever had a woman fight me so hard over buying something for her. Of course, it was apparent that Ava thought she was paying for the outfit, which was completely out of the question. I had expensive tastes and that was on me alone. On the few occasions I had insisted on getting gifts for women, they lapped it up like cats in cream. It was... interesting to get the opposite reaction. Funny enough, it made me determined to find out what would please her as well as me, if for nothing else than to watch her eat her words.

“Where are we even going?”

By the time Ava finally stumbled upon the only question that really mattered, we were almost there. With every minute that passed, I hated the ratty brown rag she wore more and more. I wanted it off her; and strangely enough, my intentions weren’t completely perverse.

“Here.” We pulled up next to a designer boutique I frequented when I was younger—a man far more concerned with impressing women than I’d come to be. When I slid from the car, holding the door open for her, Ava scrambled to follow me. She took one look at the front window of the shop, which featured brands like Prada and Chanel, and promptly backpedaled.

“This is way too expensive! I can’t possibly—”

“Come, Ava.” I cut her off with my grip on her hand, tugging her into the shop before she even realized what I was doing.

The interior was familiar—a high-class hodgepodge of designer clothing and accessories for women. Since it had been years since I visited, I didn’t recognize the girl behind the front desk... even though she certainly recognized me.

“Ares Wolfe.” She breathed the words like a prayer, honey brown eyes wide as crimson lips parted in shock. She was a pretty little thing—dark-haired and busty. If I had been with anyone but Ava, I might have worked my charms on her, but at that particular moment, I wasn’t interested. “Oh my God, Ares Wolfe!”

Somehow, we managed to get through introductions. I signed a few things for her before telling her what we were looking for—without consulting Ava first. Her glare could have melted the polar icecaps.

When the shopkeeper held up her first selection—a navy blue sheath with a lace trimmed neckline, I barely managed to keep Ava from bolting.

“No. I am not wearing that.”

“This is conservative.” I pointed out, torn between amusement and exasperation at her stubbornness. “And it’s still enough to make what you’re wearing look like a rag.”

“No.”

“Yes.” My fingers curled firmly about Ava’s upper arm, drawing her close to me. “Or we visit my tailor instead.”

Emitting a frustrated sound, she snatched the dress from the clerk to stomp to the ornate dressing rooms. Of course, the dark-haired little nymph she left me with took this as an opportunity to flash her cleavage and put on her best bedroom eyes. It was less of a trial to ignore her than I might have expected—especially when Ava poked her disheveled blonde head from the dressing room, her expression hesitant. “I don’t like it.”

I eyed her skeptically. “Doesn’t matter if you like it. This is the price of the bargain, remember?”

She exhaled a plaintive sigh before stepping from the dressing room.

Instantly, my breath caught. Holy fuck.

The prim, proper publicist was hiding a body that just wouldn’t quit. The dress she wore hugged the generous swell of her breasts and emphasized a minute waist and generous hips. In my opinion, Ava needed a pair of heels to emphasize her sexy, long legs, but the dress did her so much justice that even the flats she was wearing were ok in my book.

For a full minute, I allowed myself the luxury of staring—right up until the moment she blushed and broke my gaze.

“It’s too tight.”

I suppressed a groan. “It’s perfect. You look gorgeous... yet still very professional.” It wasn’t a lie, so I made sure to add that little tidbit specifically for her approval.

“I have some other stuff for you.” To her merit, the shopkeeper seemed far more absorbed in her job than in taking me to bed. Far from being jealous, the sight of Ava in the dress she’d picked seemed to galvanize her. In a trice, she’d selected a handful of other dresses from the rack and shoved them into the blonde’s arms. “Try these too. The colors will look amazing on you.”

Even as Ava protested, the other woman was shoving her back towards the dressing room. I, meanwhile, settled back to enjoy the show. This was better than any lunch break by far.

Ava went through the garments as quickly as she could, but she couldn’t hide how each additional outfit seemed to throw her further and further off kilter. It was almost as if she’d never seen her body in clinging, high-quality fabrics—as if the sight of her killer curves was as new to her as it was to me. She slipped into a long, off the shoulder white sundress that made her look just as angelic as I imagined it would and grudgingly did a little twirl in a green A-line number that looked fantastic with her blonde hair. Quite frankly, I wanted to buy each and every one of them, despite the hefty bill such a purchase would involve. Besides the thrill of getting to choose Ava’s clothes, however, I found her confused reactions somewhat endearing. She didn’t strut and didn’t demand to know if things made her look fat. Rather, she simply looked at herself.

Really looked. It was interesting as hell to watch.

“I can’t do this one.” Ava’s announcement came muffled from the dressing room on her sixth try on. “It’s impossible. I can’t get this zipper up.”

I reacted without thinking. Within five seconds, I was tugging the curtain of the dressing room back to reveal the interior. The sight beyond had all the blood in my body slamming southward, momentarily scrambling my brain.

Ava was naked from the waist up, clad in a white wisp of a bra that was so ridiculously sexy that it had to be illegal in a few states. I got in about three seconds of the sheer white lace cupping her breasts before she caught my gaze in the mirror and inhaled sharply. Dropping the upper half of the dress she was trying to wriggle into, she covered her chest with both hands, her color deepening. “Ares, what the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

Finally, a curse. She was human.

But it would take more than that to scare me off. “I thought you needed help with your dress.”

There it was again—that deer in headlights look—as if she had absolutely no idea what to do. I rather liked that look on Ava. It only made me want to corrupt her more.

“I don’t need help,” she insisted, holding herself even more tightly in a bid at self-defense. “I’m just going to change back into my clothes.”

“Nonsense.” I brushed her off with ease, slipping into the small space behind the curtain. God knew what impression we were giving the shopkeeper, but I’d worry about that later. Right now, the priority was the decadent half-dressed woman before me. “Why do that when I can just help you?”

There was perhaps a foot of space between her and me, and barely room to maneuver besides that. In an attempt to get away from me, Ava pressed herself against the mirror, unintentionally giving me a bird’s eye view of her cleavage, plumped high against her hands and the glass.

“Ares, don’t. I’m warning you.”

Warning me, was she? “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Ava,” I replied smoothly, wondering if said panties matched that luscious confection of a bra. “Just put the dress on and I’ll zip you.” I maintained that precious foot of distance—just close enough that she was both physically and mentally aware of my presence—without touching her. At my suggestion, her gaze turned immediately wary.

“Stay right there. Don’t come any closer.”

I suppressed a grin. “Of course.” My gaze turned expectant on hers until she looked away after a lone beat. Quickly, she scrambled to slip into the upper half of the dress which, unsurprisingly, fit her perfectly. The low scoop neckline was a little racy but I was definitely a fan. That said, I could see how she couldn’t get to the zipper by herself. In my opinion, most women’s clothes were made with the assumption that their owners were contortionists—or that someone else was constantly dressing and undressing them.

I took hold of the zipper at the small of her back, gliding it smoothly upwards against her pale skin until every tooth was closed. The dress was cut so that her shoulder blades and the nape of her neck were exposed, and I would have had to be a saint to resist that temptation.

The backs of my fingers brushed over the fine knobs of her spine and she jumped, whirling to face me.

“I thought you were just helping me dress!”

I might have been at least a little intimidated by that hiss of hers if I weren’t busy looking at her in the dress in close quarters. This one was, by far, my favorite. It was jet black, cut low across her tits and darted in to enhance her waist. Her smooth shoulders were exposed, along with almost the entirety of her arms, and it took every iota of self-control I had not to rip the damned thing off her right then and there.

“I was…”  I finally managed, reaching down to pluck a few strands of blonde from the front of the dress to give me an uninterrupted view of her breasts. “Now you’re dressed.”

God, she was gorgeous—flushed, confused and all but shaking. “So, you can leave.” Her voice trembled over the syllables and I swallowed a possessive growl.

“I could.” I cupped her face, and she swallowed thickly, her back pressing against the mirror. But, there was nowhere to run. Nothing she could do but slap me and shove her way passed me—both of which were quite valid options if she didn’t want this just as badly as I did.

But Ava did neither.

Instead, her eyes merely fluttered shut as she pressed her lips together. Luckily, she didn’t catch my wolfish smile of triumph.

She was just as sweet as I’d imagined—sweeter, even. At the first touch of my mouth against hers, she stiffened a split second before she all but melted against me. Her lips parted immediately and I took her invitation up with a low groan. Soft. She was so goddamned soft and pliant in my arms. She made soft little whining sounds of need as I kissed her, her tongue darting out to tangle with mine so hesitantly it drove me halfway insane with need for her. When I caught her lower lip between my teeth to tug hungrily, a soft, desperate moan fell against my lips and I was instantly hard as a fucking rock.

I wanted to pluck her from the dressing room, lay her on the nearest available surface and lose myself in her. In that moment, I regretted bringing her here. I regretted demanding that she get a new outfit because I wanted nothing more than to be alone with her.  When one of my hands ventured down to curl into her ample behind, she inhaled sharply, grasping at the lapels of my suit eagerly.

I cursed under my breath, dragging my mouth from hers. I had every intention of ravaging her throat, her bare shoulders... all the way down to the tantalizing vee of her cleavage.

At the light contact of a fist against wood, both of us froze. “Um... excuse me?” The clerk was knocking on the partition of the dressing room—just beyond the curtain. “Is everything alright in there?”

Ava immediately came back to herself, her eyes widening as she realized how compromising our situation might look. All it would take would be for the clerk to yank back the curtain and we’d be all over the tabloids the following morning. While I hardly cared, I didn’t want that for Ava. She hardly deserved it.

“We’re fine!” Ava shocked the hell out of me when she answered in an admirably steady tone. “Be out in one second.”

“...all right. Let me know if you need anything.” Thankfully, the clerk seemed satisfied with her answer and the next sound we heard was her footsteps receding back towards the racks.

Ava breathed an audible sigh of relief, her eyes sliding closed a moment before they snapped open once more, blazing green fire. It was enough to make me want to kiss her all over again. “Get out, get out, get out!” she hissed, shoving at my chest with all her strength. I imagined it much like trying to move a brick wall and merely grinned down at her. “I’m serious, Ares. I will make you wear grandpa sweaters for the next six months. Get. Out.”

At that point, I decided to humor her. After all, I had gotten what I wanted—mostly. It wasn’t just the kiss. That glassy-eyed, hungry expression that had lasted for a few seconds afterward—that was what I was after. The knowledge that prim little Ava Parker had an inner freak just waiting to break free.

And I was going to help her.