Roxy POV
The suffocating tightness of a brand-newndesigner dress being zipped up by hands that weren’t my own made my lungs burn for air.
Just two hours after Nate walked out of Jaxon’s penthouse, Jaxon dragged me straight into the most expensive boutique on campus.
It was the kind of place where the sales associates wore tailored silk suits and looked at my scuffed canvas sneakers like I was a stray animal that had wandered off the street.
I didn’t want to be here.
Every single tag on the hangers showed numbers that could pay off my family’s groceries for three months.
But Jaxon refused to hear a word of my protest.
“You’re not showing up to my father’s donor box looking like a charity case, Tutor,” Jaxon had snapped, throwing a gold card onto the checkout counter without even looking at the price.
“Cassandra wants to present you as a desperate peasant stealing from the university. We give her an icon instead.”
Now, I was standing inside the boutique’s private fitting room, trapped in a sea of full-length mirrors and plush curtains.
The dress Jaxon picked out was made of lovely emerald silk.
It clung to my skin like a second layer of sweat, hugging every curve of my waist and hips before pooling around my bare feet.
The deep green color made my dark eyes pop, but the cut was too revealing—the back dropped into a low, plunging V that exposed every inch of my spine down to the top of my waist.
I reached around behind my back, my fingers straining desperately to pull up the delicate hidden zipper.
The fine metal teeth kept catching on the luxurious silk, refusing to budge past the narrow curve of my lower back.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, my shoulders aching as I tugged at the zipper again.
My heart was pounding, a thick mix of frustration and rising anxiety squeezing my chest.
“Having trouble, Tutor?”
Jaxon’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the quiet room as he pushed past the thick curtain without even knocking.
My head snapped around, my breath catching instantly in my throat.
I tried to pull the back of the dress together with both hands, my face burning with sudden heat.
“Get out, Jaxon! You can’t just walk in here while I’m changing!”
He didn’t even flinch.
He just leaned back against the dark wooden frame of the fitting room door, his broad shoulders filling the narrow space.
He wore a crisp, tailored black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his thick, corded forearms.
His stormy grey eyes swept over me slowly, starting at my bare feet, moving up the tight emerald silk, and lingering on the exposed skin of my chest and shoulders.
For a long, agonizing second, the arrogant, mocking smirk vanished from his lips.
His jaw clenched tight, his pupils dilating until his eyes looked almost entirely black.
“I bought the dress,” Jaxon said softly, his voice dropping into a low, raspy rumble that sent a sudden spike of heat down my legs.
“That means I get to see if it fits.”
He stepped inside, letting the thick curtain fall shut behind him, sealing us into the small, mirror-lined space.
The room was suddenly too tiny, the air instantly thick with the masculine scent of his expensive cedarwood cologne and the heat radiating off his body.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered, though the words lacked any real bite.
My back was turned to the mirrors, forcing me to stare straight at his hard chest as he closed the distance between us.
“Shut up for once,” Jaxon murmured.
He didn’t use force.
Instead, his large, calloused hands gently brushed my trembling fingers away from the zipper.
The feeling of his rough palm against my soft skin made my breath hitch.
I expected him to be rough, to mock me for struggling, but his touch was surprisingly gentle.
Jaxon stepped directly behind me.
I looked up at the main mirror, watching his huge form swallow mine completely in the reflection.
His chest touched my bare shoulder blades, his warmth cutting right through the cold air of the room.
Slowly, his thick fingers gathered the small metal pull of the zipper at the base of my spine.
The cold silver rings on his knuckles grazed my bare skin, sending a sizzling shiver straight up my backbone. Visit novelping.com for the full chapter.
My hands gripped the edges of the vanity in front of me just to keep my knees from buckling.
“You’re shaking,” Jaxon observed quietly, his dark eyes meeting mine in the glass reflection.
“It’s cold in here,” I lied, my voice trembling so badly it ruined the shield I was trying to build.
“Right,” Jaxon murmured, a small, dark smile touching the corner of his lips.
He slid the zipper up, inch by inch.
Every millimeter the fabric pulled tight against my skin felt like a surrender.
His breath was hot and steady against the shell of my ear, fanning across my neck as his hand smoothed the silk over my lower back, his fingers lingering just a second too long against the curve of my waist.
When the zipper clicked shut at the nape of my neck, Jaxon didn’t step back.
He didn’t let go.
His large hands moved up to rest squarely on my bare shoulders, his broad palms keeping me in place.
The heat of his skin burned through the thin silk, trapping me between the firm press of his body and my own reflection in the mirror.
My chest was heaving like someone on the brink of death.
I stared at our reflection—the scholarship girl from Ashenvale drowning in thousands of dollars of silk, and the powerful, dangerous hockey star holding her like she was his most prized possession.
The lie was getting too thick.
The line between what was fake and what was dangerously real was blurring until I couldn’t tell where the act ended and where we began.
Jaxon leaned his head down, his dark jaw brushing against the side of my cheek.
His broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the world, leaving only the two of us locked in the glass.
“This isn’t a game on Friday night, Roxy,” Jaxon whispered, his gravelly voice dropping into a fierce, suffocating purr that vibrated right through my spine.
“Dean Cooper is going to be watching every breath you take. Cassandra is going to be looking for any crack in your armor. And my father is going to test you until you break.”
His fingers dug a little deeper into my shoulders, holding me tight as his eyes locked onto mine in the mirror, dark and devoid of any playfulness.
“Don’t look at me like you hate me out there, Roxy,” Jaxon rasped, his lips grazing the sensitive skin right beneath my earlobe.
“Look at me like you want to devour me.”