I left my building and walked through the quiet, dark streets of Milan. The tall buildings were cast in shadows as the short lamps only highlighted the street. A couple passed me as they enjoyed their gelato. I was dressed in a navy blue suit with a matching tie, and my outfit was worth thousands of dollars. If someone was desperate for money, just my clothes had enough value to change their life forever.

But no one was stupid enough to cross me.

I didn’t just have a famous face, but a respected power. I could make things happen with the snap of my fingers. I could make people disappear if I wanted. I had the authority to change the course of the future—if I wanted to.

I turned the corner and approached the entrance to the club. The bass of the music thudded from the inside, reaching the street and the people waiting around to get in. Women stood outside in heels and sparkling lingerie, the humid temperature keeping their delicate skin warm.

Once I approached, the men immediately recognized me. They parted the crowd and surrounded me like soldiers protecting their king. I was blocked off from the long line of men waiting to pay a thousand euro just to experience the elite club. The women stared at me like I was a god.

The doors opened, and they escorted me inside.

Once I was surrounded by the darkness and the music, I felt right at home. Women were dressed in my lingerie, bustiers, corsets, and tiny thongs that hardly covered anything. Some of them were my models, and some of them were women who only wished they were.

I created an invisible ripple, and anyone in my way immediately stepped aside. I seemed to emit a high-frequency pitch that surrounded me on all sides. People could hear it without even realizing it. They stepped back, giving me more space than necessary.

The black walls were covered with pictures of my models wearing the sexy clothes. Some featured diamonds, other lace, but in every single photo, the piece of lingerie was specifically designed for them. My job was to make the perfect ensemble for every woman, treating each individual on a personal level. Every woman had a different body type, and each one was beautiful in her own way.

“Here’s your scotch, sir.” A man appeared from the shadows with my drink on a tray. “Carter is waiting for you on the second landing.”

I took the glass. “Thank you.”

He disappeared just as quickly as he’d appeared.

I moved to the stairs and felt every pair of eyes fall on me. Women admired me with lust, and men despised me with jealousy. But every single person in that building had to bow to my power.

I owned all of them—and they didn’t even realize it.

I reached the second landing and spotted Carter sitting in a corner booth. A woman was under each arm as he sat back in the leather seat, an enormous picture of Lacey Lockwood positioned on the wall behind him. She was my biggest model, the one people recognized the most. She had the right confidence and the perfect legs. She wanted to be my biggest star—and most people predicted she would be.

Carter didn’t see me coming because he was too busy with his private entertainment. The blonde on his left rubbed her hand across his chest then nibbled on his earlobe. The other woman rubbed his thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. Both were in my lingerie, sparkling with rhinestones and glitter.

I sat in the leather seat across from him, setting down my scotch and leaning back into the comfortable seat. Without checking my surroundings, I could feel all the eyes staring at me. It would be less than a minute before a couple girls made their move and sank into the seat beside me. They would assume they were special, that maybe they had a unique quality that could capture my attention for more than five minutes.

Not possible.

My entire existence revolved around sexy women. I dressed them in clothes for the purpose of getting fucked. I fulfilled the fantasies of men everywhere by incorporating them into my designs. I dressed women like Lacey Lockwood in the perfect bodysuit with a crotch that unfastened for a quick screw. All I thought about all day long was sex…with beautiful women.

I’d become desensitized to it.

It was impossible to impress me anymore. Women were all the same, but beautiful in their own ways. Sex was purely physical without a single hint of emotion. I kept it empty on purpose because that fueled my inspiration.

Men didn’t care about love, only lust.

So I had to design my lingerie that way.

The only exception to that was the new model I’d recently acquired.

Ten.

There was something unique about her that drew my attention instantly. When the ten models took the stage, the other nine were faceless blurs. They were beautiful but ordinary. They were the top ten picks from my trusted assistants, but they paled in comparison to the single woman standing at the very edge.

Ten.

I wouldn’t say she was exceptionally beautiful. Her allure was far deeper than some superficial characteristic. But she possessed a quality that stole my complete focus. She had the same effect on the guys—that was why they picked her in the first place. Jeans and a t-shirt couldn’t mask her innate sex appeal.

Her body was unique. The proportion between her hips and her stomach was significant, making her curves even more startling. She had lean and toned thighs, but her ass was plump and juicy. She was endless curves, smooth skin, and the most sensuous woman I’d ever seen. The curve in her back was so steep it looked like the concave side of a spoon. Making clothes with her specific dimensions felt like an honor.

I’d never seen a woman with her kinds of measurements. It was like she was specifically made to wear lingerie, to be the ultimate symbol of female sexuality.

When that woman overran my thoughts, I forced myself to focus on Carter.

Carter broke the kiss he was sharing with one of the girls and dropped his arm. “I need to take care of some business, ladies.”

The blonde gave his thigh a tight squeeze before she walked away with the other girl. Their lingerie shimmered under the low lights, and their heels tapped against the floor until they were no longer in hearing distance. The music wasn’t loud in this section, which was intentional. It was the best place to do business.

Carter wore a black suit with a matching tie. His dark hair was identical to mine, and he inherited the coffee-colored eyes of his mother. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and now a shadow covered the bottom part of his face. We looked so similar that people mistook us for brothers on a daily basis. “I heard you have a new girl.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“The girls.”

Every model I had obsessed over who would get the biggest spotlight. Who would be on the cover of Vogue? Who would be my grand finale in the fashion show? Who would be the inspiration for my next piece? They all competed for my affection, trying to touch me in the right way or say the perfect words to capture my attention.

Maybe they were just trying to get ahead in their career.

Or maybe they just wanted to be my muse.

I didn’t give a damn because it didn’t matter.

No woman would ever mean anything to me.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do with her yet.”

“Is she being featured in the show next weekend?”

“Maybe.” She still needed a lot of work. Her posture was better, but once she lost focus, she dropped her shoulders and slouched forward. She was a bit of a conundrum because she exhibited intense confidence when she talked back to me or told off some of my men, but when it came to modeling, she closed up tighter than a clam. When her clothes were off, she was even more beautiful.

But she felt uneasy.

It didn’t make sense.

It was the first time I’d had a model who lacked enthusiasm. Ten couldn’t care less about the opportunity. She didn’t kiss the ground I walked on. She had no problem calling me an asshole to my face.

It was an interesting change.

The only reason why she was there was because she needed the work to survive.

She didn’t give a damn about me.

Maybe that was what caught my attention.

Carter drank his gin then lit his cigar. “I heard she auditioned fully clothed.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“She sounds interesting.”

“She has a bit of a mouth on her.”

“For sucking, I hope.” He grinned before he inhaled from the cigar.

“Not that kind of mouth.”

“Too bad. That’s the best kind.” He took another drag before he set the burning cigar on the tray. His ankle rested on the opposite knee, and he leaned back as he glanced at the women hanging out on the balcony.

“How’s the car business?”

“No complaints. Not quite as sexy as your enterprise, but still great.” Carter was a designer and producer of luxury cars in Italy. He sold his cars all over Europe and exported a few to the US if people were willing to pay the right price. We worked in very different sectors of business, but it benefited us both sometimes.

“Working on anything new?”

“I’m always working on something new.” He drank his gin again then wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. His suit was as expensive as mine, but he was so wealthy he didn’t bother taking care of it. “But enough with the small talk. We’ve got business to take care of.”

I rested my arm over the back of the couch and rested my ankle on the opposite knee. “I’m listening.”

“Ten million.” He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He massaged his knuckles as he stared at me with his coffee-colored eyes. His skin was fair, which contrasted more against his dark hair and eyes. His Italian blood was obvious, as was mine.

That was one of the biggest sums we’d ever been offered. “Who is she?”

“The daughter of some wealthy investor out in California. I guess his net worth is nearly a billion dollars.”

Nearly? Well, mine was over a billion dollars. “He can’t handle this himself?”

“The Skull Kings are crazy. I advised them against it.”

They were indeed crazy. They brought a whole new definition to the word. They were unpredictable and ruthless. They started as arms dealers, but when that didn’t satisfy their greed and bloodlust, they turned to trafficking instead. Now they captured desirable women from happy families—because they got off on it. They sold them at the Underground and made a fortune.

“This is getting dangerous, Carter. These guys are mad, but not stupid. They’ll figure out what we’re doing eventually.”

“And what are they going to do?” he asked incredulously. “We’re both untouchable.” He brought the cigar to his mouth and took a deep drag. “And we aren’t undermining their operation. They make the money. It’s none of their business what we do with the girls once they’re our property.”

“They might think we’ll turn them in.”

“Turn them in to whom?” Carter asked incredulously. “The feds? We both know they won’t do shit. Those psychopaths are untouchable. They know we aren’t stupid enough to declare war against them. Besides, this is a business for us too. I’m not doing this shit out of the goodness of my heart. I’m doing this because it’s easy money—and tax-free.”

There was a lot of money on the table. Carter and I had split fifty million dollars two ways a couple of times. As a billionaire, I didn’t need more money. But when cash was that easy to get, I wouldn’t look the other way. “Then you go to the Underground and bid on her.”

“You know I can’t. It has to be you.”

When I bought the girls, I turned them into models for a few shows. Once they were finished, they were released back to their families. The Skull Kings thought I just had a weird fetish for slaves, and I was parading my property in front of the world because I thought I was above the law.

But once the girls did their time, they were sent back to their families. It was the only way to extract them without risking their necks and ours. The Skull Kings had more important things to worry about, so after a few weeks, they were on to the next batch of slaves they wanted to sell.

“Like I said, we can’t do this forever,” I said. “Our fathers warned us what these guys were like. I don’t think we should take that lightly.”

“I don’t take it lightly,” Carter said. “But I’m not a pussy either.”

I finished my scotch, letting the amber liquid slide right down to my belly.

“Besides, if we don’t do this, who will? You know what will happen to those girls.”

They’d be raped, tortured, and then burned alive. Women like that didn’t become pets of good men. They became punching bags of men who wanted to exercise power over their enemies. When a deal went south, taking their enemy’s daughter seemed to be the most effective form of revenge.

But the girls had nothing to do with it.

“I think we should have someone else do the bidding.” We had loyal men that had been working for us for decades. It didn’t take a genius to bid on a woman until they won her. “That way we no longer have to be involved in it.”

“You know that won’t work. They want faces. They want identities of rich and famous men. By taking away anonymity, it keeps everyone in line. It keeps it legitimate. They don’t just let anyone in there. If you send someone in your place, they’ll think it’s suspicious. And that will be our downfall.”

Wealthy men in our inner circles actually believed I bought slaves for pleasure. I had so much cash that I spent it on eccentric things, like people. Selling lingerie and treating women like objects complemented that belief very well.

Even though it was completely false.

I already had more power than most men. I didn’t need to buy a slave to feel powerful.

I already was powerful.

“Are you in?” Carter asked.

If I refused, this woman would suffer and die. It was a matter of life or death. I couldn’t let that guilt weigh me down. “You know I am.”

“Great.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket and opened it up so I could see it. “Anastasia Purkov. She’s the daughter of a Russian investor. She went to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon and never came home. She had just been selected for the Russian ballet when she went missing. Her father got in touch with my people, and that’s how I received his message.” He pointed at her picture. “She’s a beauty.”

With dark brown hair and blue eyes, she was definitely eye-catching. If a woman was attractive, it was even more likely she was captured for trafficking.

“Her father pissed off one of his clients in Budapest. I think that guy commissioned the Skull Kings to do this.”

It was disgusting. Men paid other men to capture an innocent woman just to piss off their enemy. And then that woman was sold for another profit so she could be a slave. Then she was purchased for a third time—by us. The amount of money being spent on a human life was horrific—just because of the pussy between her legs. “When is the auction?”

“Tomorrow night.”

I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. “I’ll get her.”

“Put her in your lineup for the next show. Then we can give her back.”

Anytime I rescued a slave and told them what was going on, they were silent and cooperative. They didn’t talk to the other models, and usually kissed the ground I walked on. When I returned them to their families, the fathers were always crying the hardest. “Alright.”

Carter smoked his cigar again. “Who knew being a hero could make us so much money?”

“We aren’t heroes,” I said coldly. “Real heroes don’t get paid.”

“Money or no money, without us, those girls would never get out.”

“And what about all the rest?” I asked. “We leave them to their fate just because they don’t have a rich family member to buy them out.”

“Even if they did, you know we can’t save them all. If you bought every slave in the joint, the Skull Kings would definitely be onto us.”

Saving an innocent woman for a paycheck didn’t make me feel like a good man. There was nothing noble about what we were doing. We were both greedy, and there was no sugarcoating that fact.

“Tomorrow, then?” Carter knew I already agreed to the terms, but he must have picked up on the hesitancy in my voice.

“Tomorrow.”

---

I walked to my building in the dead of night alone. I didn’t take a woman home with me because I wasn’t in the mood. I could have had any woman in that club that I wanted, but nothing interested me that night.

I made the call and placed the phone against my ear.

Innocent and beautiful, she answered. “It’s one in the morning, Conway.”

I sighed in relief even though there was no real reason to be scared. The sound of her voice was the greatest assurance that I needed. She meant more to me than I ever told her, and the idea of someone taking her the way so many other women were captured made me sick to my stomach. She was the only woman in the world who turned me into a gentleman. Only when she was present did I behave. “Are you home?”

“It’s one in the morning on a Tuesday. I’m sleeping, obviously.”

My little sister was a grown woman, but I would always see her as a little kid. She was living in Milan because she was studying to be a painter. She went to a fancy art school on my parents’ money. Since my parents lived in Tuscany, they were a five-hour drive away. I was the eldest son of my family, so it was my job to look after her. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“You don’t need to check on me, Conway. If I need something, I’ll ask.”

“You’re too stubborn to ask for anything. We both know that.”

She sighed into the phone again. “Can I call you tomorrow? I have to be up at sunrise.”

“We both know you aren’t going to call me.”

“Well, call me tomorrow, then.” She hung up before I could get another word in.

My paranoia got the best of me, and I acted on my fear too easily. My sister was a beautiful woman, taking after my mother with a few attributes from my father. When I was growing up, my father never let her do anything alone. He watched her like a hawk constantly. When she moved away for school, I’d never seen him so shaken up about it. It was hard for him to let go.

But I realized it was even harder for me to let go.

Now I was as protective as he’d ever been, especially in this cruel world. Women were treated like dogs, sometimes as currency.

I never wanted her to know that.

There was a deep underworld right outside her door—but she was too innocent to see it.

---

Ten walked in the door right on time, her hair and makeup done. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, the typical attire I’d always seen her wear. Her hair was thick and curled, framing her face perfectly and accentuating her features.

I was standing at my table with my sketchbook.

She stepped inside the room and immediately undressed.

I didn’t even have to tell her to this time.

I looked up from my notebook, and I took her in her beautiful skin. It was unblemished and unmarked. Perfectly smooth and polished, she had the skin of a doll. Her complexion only enhanced the curves of her gorgeous figure. With a tiny waist I could wrap my hands around and an ass that looked plump, she was nothing but perfection. The fact that she achieved such beauty with no effort made her even more of a goddess.

She was all natural.

I grabbed my notebook and walked over to her in front of the mirror. “You’re learning.” I stood behind her and stared at her shoulders. They were perfectly straight, the muscles on either side totally symmetrical. My fingers rested directly over her spine, and instantly, she took a deep breath in response.

My hand slowly slid down her spine, following it all the way to the top of her ass. She was so petite, I could feel my hand completely span across her body. I could reach both hips with my forefinger and thumb.

She breathed harder.

Last time I spoke to her, I told her I knew how I wanted to fuck her. Maybe that made her uncomfortable, made her a little afraid.

I certainly felt no shame.

My hands gripped her shoulders then I slowly moved around her, taking in her angles under the light.

Her eyes followed me. “What are you doing?”

My hands wrapped around her arms, and I looked down at her body, admiring her features. I was examining her skin tone, the way her white panties contrasted against her slightly olive skin. “Working.”

“Looks like you’re just staring.”

My eyes lifted to her face, her stunning blue eyes that resembled jewels. “Staring is part of my job.” If I stared at any of the other models this way, they’d be beaming with pride. But not this woman. She didn’t give a damn.

“I thought making clothes was part of your job.”

“Yes. And I want to make the perfect lingerie for the perfect woman.” When I stood this close to her, I could lean in and kiss her. I could feel those soft lips against my mouth, feel her warm breaths enter my lungs.

But I never kissed anyone—and I wouldn’t kiss her.

I went to the fabric table and grabbed the strip I’d set aside. I pressed it against her rosy skin and imagined the perfect bra pressing her tits together, the creamy flesh beautiful under the bright lights. If I added a hint of gold glitter underneath, it would add just a bit of texture. With gold heels, the ensemble would be a provocative piece.

I sat in the black armchair and opened my notebook. Then I began to sketch the seductive piece of lingerie while looking at the woman who inspired it. I glanced up at her body, determining how the provocative garment would be placed on her body. She had a long chest and a flattering torso, so the material could be a little longer than usual. I added a slit from underneath the bra that stretched to her stomach. When she walked the runway, the material would open and reveal her sexy belly button. I worked on the thong next.

“Do you want me to pose or something?”

“You are posing.” My fingers worked the pencil hard, etching the image into the thick parchment. I outlined her hips then worked on the thong. I wanted it to be the same material, but I wanted there to be a deeper splash of gold. I wanted her to look like a jewel, to highlight the sapphires in her eyes. With that dark hair and gorgeous skin, those colors would look wonderful on her.

Before I even finished, I got another idea.

Teal. She would be gorgeous in teal.

I turned the page and started another design.

---

My notebook was fatter than usual because I’d used so many pages. The constant touching and flipping had made the pages thicker than normal, so the notebook looked like it was stuffed with tissues. I’d created more designs in a few hours than I usually did in an entire month.

Ten knew how to inspire me.

“You can go.” I wrote down a list of fabrics I needed so I could get to work on constructing the lingerie with my bare hands. Once I had it perfect, I would send everything to the factory for it to be mass-produced. It was too late for the fall line, but lingerie wasn’t prey to the seasons. It could be constructed at any time of the year. It might be too late for the fashion show next week, but if I worked all night, I might make it in time.

Ten hadn’t said anything for a few hours. She stood there in her underwear, and when I didn’t speak to her for a long time, she practiced walking back and forth in her heels. She pulled her shoulders back and stuck out her chest, watching herself in the mirror at the same time.

Ordinarily, it would be distracting. But I was so focused on my new pieces, I managed not to stare at her bubbly ass. She’d improved significantly now that she was taking it seriously. Accepting the advance on her pay had straightened her out.

But that didn’t stop her smartass remarks.

She pulled on her shirt. “Are you done for the day?”

“No.” I grabbed the fabrics from the pile and laid them out on the table. “I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”

She pulled her jeans over her perky ass then buttoned them up. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” I situated the mannequin where I needed it to be then grabbed my pins.

She took a seat at the table, like she didn’t plan to go anywhere.

That made me look up. “What?”

“If there’s anything I can do, I’d like to help. You were generous enough to give me that money…I’d like to earn it.”

I grabbed the tape measure and the scissors. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I’m like a mule…I can go for a long time.”

It was a poor comparison, especially when she was far more beautiful than a mule. If she was any beast, she would be a majestic white horse.

“I can even clean if you’d like.”

“No. I have a much better use for you.” I directed her to my side of the table and had her hold the edges while I cut and sewed. Having another person there made the process a lot smoother. I usually had one of my assistants or Nicole help me out with things, but since it was after hours, everyone was already home for the day.

Once she got the hang of it, she was of better use.

Then we worked in comfortable silence. I got a waft of her hair when she moved sometimes. Every once in a while, her arm would brush against mine. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, and her eyes began to narrow in fascination for what I was doing. Then she started to ask questions.

“Where did you learn all of this?”

“I’m self-taught.”

“You taught yourself how to design clothes?” When she was being herself, she had naturally perfect posture. Her shoulders were back, her stomach was in, and she had a phenomenal arch in her lower back. It made her ass stick out even more. She had an elegance to her that wasn’t fake like it was on the runway. But that beauty only came out when she was comfortable in her surroundings—comfortable with her clothes on.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t go to school?”

“School is a waste of time. If there’s something you want to learn, you can just teach yourself.”

She watched my hands work the fabric underneath the sewing machine. “What made you want to design lingerie?”

“I already told you.” I wasn’t much of a talker as it was, and I hated stupid questions even more.

She shifted her gaze to my face, watching me concentrate.

“I’ve been obsessed with sex since I hit puberty. I love women, and I love fucking them. I know how to make a woman feel sexy, to feel more desirable than she ever has before. And I know exactly what men want to see. I’ve turned my addiction into a living.”

She turned her gaze back to my hands, having no comment on what I had just admitted. “That means you’re a sex addict?”

“No. But I love sex.” I carried the fabric to the mannequin and pinned it in place so I could add the final touches.

She crossed her arms over her chest and slowly circled the figure. “That means you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Never have. Never will.”

She took a seat and crossed her legs, watching me. “Do you get lonely?”

“I’m surrounded by a sea of people on a daily basis. And I’m surrounded by women on a nightly basis. No, I definitely don’t get lonely.”

Her blue eyes moved to my face, watching my expression as I worked.

“You’re asking me a lot of questions. How about I ask you some questions?”

“Depends on what you want to know.”

Once the two fabrics were perfectly placed together, I worked on the bottom piece. “Leave a boyfriend behind?”

I wasn’t sure if she would answer since it was a personal question. I went straight to the heavy stuff. “No.”

I shouldn’t care that she wasn’t in love with someone, but a jolt of energy surged through my veins. I didn’t like the idea of a faceless man fucking her. My possessiveness probably stemmed from the fact that she was one of my models, but I’d never been very protective of any of them. “What about your parents?”

“Dead.” She said it without a single sign of emotion. Heartless and cold, she seemed like she didn’t feel anything at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” My hands halted momentarily before I started working again.

“It was a long time ago. My dad has been gone ten years. My mom has been gone for five.”

“Siblings?”

“One brother…but he’s dead too.” She breathed in a deep sigh like she was trying to steady invisible tears.

“I’m sorry.” That time, my remorse was real.

“I’m all that’s left…”

Maybe she fled to a new country because she didn’t have any reason to stay behind. Maybe she wanted to start over while she was still young. Or maybe she murdered her entire family, and now she was on the run.

I hadn’t looked into her past, but I didn’t care.

But now I started to care. “Any friends?”

“I left a few people behind…but I didn’t tell them I was leaving.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No.”

I placed the thong on the mannequin and stared down at her. “Then what are you running from?”

She looked away, dismissing my question.

“You know, I might be able to help you.”

“No one can help me…” She ran her fingers through her hair then walked to the table. She grabbed a few pins before she returned and helped me with the bottoms. “I’m not your problem, and I don’t want to become your problem.”

The more she refused help, the more I wanted to give it to her. She reminded me of my sister in a lot of ways, fearless and stubborn. Sometimes it made me admire her. And other times, she was just being stupid. “What’s your name?”

“You know my name.”

“I’ve been taking care of you, but you can’t tell me your name?” If it weren’t for me, she’d still be on the street right now. There were a lot of men out there who would quickly take advantage of her. Rather than let that happen to her, I made sure she had what she needed. Not too many people would be so generous.

“I thought it didn’t matter what my name was?” She crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off from me.

“What are you afraid of?”

She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t want you to know anything about me. I need a clean slate.”

“Did you kill someone or something?”

She scoffed, like the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “Do I look like a killer?”

“Just because you don’t look like a killer doesn’t mean you aren’t one.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“Well, do I look like a killer?”

She turned her eyes back to me, unsure whether she should answer me or not.

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not. Doesn’t mean anything.” I finished the bottom piece and put it together well enough to show Nicole. It would require more detailed sewing and elasticity before it was ready for completion. “Did you rob a bank?”

“No.”

“Did you piss someone off?”

Her eyes shifted away. “Enough with the questions.”

I pulled the lingerie off the mannequin. “Put this on.”

She didn’t hesitate before she removed her clothes and pulled the lingerie onto her body. She left her thong on underneath and turned the other way when she removed her bra and pulled the top on.

I enjoyed the view while she was turned away, seeing the way her hair reached halfway down her back. The slight curls at the end were sexy, and I imagined how those strands would feel wrapped around my fingertips.

She turned around slowly, her feet flat on the floor. But she didn’t need heels for her body to look marvelous. Just as I expected, the gold sparkle and the deep black looked perfect on her. The measurements of the material fit her body exactly as I planned. One of a kind and perfect, it made her ready for the runway without all the extra makeup and preparation.

She really was a natural.

I’d never made a piece of lingerie like this. It was simple but spectacular. I hadn’t drawn on the inspiration from a different piece or something from a dream. The idea formed in my mind just by looking at her gorgeous figure.

She was the one who did this.

“Perfect.” Now that she had it on, I never wanted her to take it off. I wanted her to lie back on the bed and open her legs to me, silently begging me to slide between her thighs. I wanted the fabric to part over her belly and show her bare skin. I wanted to see that sexy belly button and drag my tongue across it.

Instantly, I was hard.

And not just a little hard. So hard it actually hurt.