Chapter 15: How do you want me ?

Samantha’s POV

"You think I'm sexy? Sensual?"

I leaned closer, deliberately closing the distance until we were only inches apart. Up close, I could see the sharp line of his jaw clenching. His eyebrows pinched together—a look so raw and vulnerable it almost looked like he was in pain.

"Sammie," he breathed, his voice a low, warning gravel. "You're a little too close."

The tension and heat radiating between our touching knees was enough to erupt a volcano, but Rick refused to make a move. He just sat there, frozen, fighting himself.

God, this was getting frustrating. Why won't he just kiss me? Touch me? I wasn't used to taking charge, but the sheer agony of his restraint made me want to take complete control of him.

"Look, Sammie," he muttered, forcing his eyes to look anywhere but my lips. "I'm not the man for you, and I'm sure as hell not going to be the reason you get hurt. Let's just stick to what's safe... friendship."

I tilted my head, tracking the heavy rise and fall of his chest. "That's what you've wanted all this while. Don't you want that anymore?"

"Yeah, but I—" I wanted to let him know that I didn't care about our age gap anymore.

As though he could switch his emotions on and off with a clinical snap, he abruptly pulled back and reached for his iPad on the metal tray.

"We should probably get started with this," he said, his tone instantly shifting into something strictly professional as he pulled up a gallery. He turned the screen toward me, drawing my attention to a collection of delicate flash designs. "I think this would look incredible on you." He tapped the screen, showing a small, intricate butterfly with subtle shading on its wings.

"Whatever you think is best, Rick," I said softly, refusing to look at the screen. I kept my eyes locked entirely on his.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something—to snap at me, to plead with me, I couldn't tell—but then he clamped his jaw shut.

"So, where do you want it?" he asked, his voice entirely too tight. "Your shoulder? Your arm? Your back?"

"I want it here."

Without losing eye contact for even a fraction of a second, I flattened my palm against my skin, gesturing right to the soft curve beneath my breast.

Rick swallowed. I watched his Adam's apple bob heavily.

"It's going to be hidden most of the time," he said, his green eyes darkening.

"That's the whole point," I countered, a small, daring smile touching my lips. "Only the one who gets to see me naked gets to see it."

Rick reached up, a bit of his stoic armor cracking as he roughly scratched the back of his neck. The green soap and leather scent of the room felt suffocatingly close.

"Alright then," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's get started, shall we? I'm going to need you to take your dress down to your waist. I can go find a tube bra or a modesty drape for you to change into."

"No, it's fine," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs, though I forced my voice to stay steady. "You're a professional, so... seeing a woman's breast shouldn't be a problem... right?"

His green eyes instantly clouded over with a storm of heavy, unreadable emotion.

I secretly loved it. I loved that I was completely driving this reserved, dangerous boss of a man out of his mind, shattering his perfect composure piece by piece.

"Of course," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my collarbone before snapping back up. "It won't be a problem."

"Good.”

"So, how do you want me?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Huh?"

Rick’s eyebrows shot up, his stoic mask cracking for a fraction of a second as the words registered.

"I meant, what position do you want me in?" I clarified, a small, daring smile playing on my lips. I knew fully well that my question carried a heavy undercurrent, and I loved the way it threw him off his rhythm. 

Good girl turned bad.

Rick cleared his throat, his dark green eyes tracking the deliberate tilt of my chin before he forced himself to look back at the leather table.

"Lie on your back for me," he said, his voice dropping into a deeper, rougher register that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

"Okay."

He reached down to adjust the mechanical table, flattening it out into a bed. "I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy to get settled and take the top of the dress down. Just call me when you're ready." He started to turn toward the counter, looking eager for any excuse to break eye contact.

"Rick," I called out softly, stopping him in his tracks. "You're going to see me without any clothing on in a few seconds anyway. Why turn around now?"

He froze, his back to me for a long heartbeat before he slowly turned around to face me. His expression was a storm of heavy restraint.

"Because," he said, his voice low, gravelly, and entirely serious, "you have the say on when I get to see you, Sammie. Not the work."

The sheer respect in his words made my throat tight, but it only fueled the fire in my chest. I wanted him to see.

"I'm giving you the say," I whispered.

Bracing myself, I reached up and carefully brought down the straps of my dress. A sudden, sharp spike of shyness hit me, making my heart hammer against my ribs, but I did my absolute best not to let it show. I stood up slowly from the edge of the chair, keeping my eyes locked on his, and let the heavy fabric of the dress slide down my curves until it pooled around my ankles.

Rick’s breath hitched—a sharp, ragged sound in the slow jazz filled room.

His green eyes flared, tracking the movement of the fabric as it fell, before snapping instantly to my face. A heavy, suffocating silence descended on us, so thick I could hear the rapid, frantic beat of my own heart. His jaw was clenched so tightly the bone looked sharp, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the edge of his tray. He was drowning, completely unraveled by the sight of me, even as he fought with everything in him to stay professional.

I swallowed down the last of my nervousness, stepping out of the pooled fabric. Standing there in nothing but my underwear, I climbed onto the high table and lay flat on my back, just as he had asked.

He moved to pick the dress and folded it neatly placing it on the opposite desk.

The leather was cool against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the thick, suffocating heat radiating between us. I settled into the center of the bed, slowly raising my arms and resting them behind my head, completely baring the soft, sensitive curve under my breast to him.

Rick slowly rolled his stool over, every movement deliberate, heavy, and tense. He stopped right at my side, towering over my torso, his face mere inches from my skin as he leaned in. The familiar, masculine scent of his cologne and the sharp green soap of the shop washed over me, making my senses spin.

He didn't touch me yet. He just hovered there, his gaze burning a trail across my ribs, his chest rising and falling in shallow, heavy breaths. The air between us was a live wire, ready to snap at any second.

I tilted my head back, meeting his dark, clouded green eyes one last time, and let out a quiet breath.

"I'm ready for you.”