Sinfully Bound
And yet, the way he looked at her—from the leather sofa where he lounged like a king—made her feel like she did.
“You’re still not choosing,” he said, eyes watching her reflection.
“I don’t know how to choose,” she admitted softly.
“Then let me.” He stood, approaching her slowly. “Wear this.”
He handed her a black dress—backless, high-slit, silk that poured like liquid sin.
Liara’s breath caught. “It’s too much.”
“No. It’s just enough,” he said, his voice a low command. “Try it on. And next time someone questions your place, make sure they choke on their envy.”
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