other equally disturbing bullshit to be inside. Gritting my teeth, my eyes narrow almost shutting, dreading what I’m going to witness. My stomach tightens in a knot. Taking one last breath, I open it fully.
The lid is lined with red velvet. Leaning over to see what’s sitting in the lower half, my eyes widen as I gasp.
A key!
My breath catches in my throat as I pick it up. It’s an old-style filigree pattern with a skull on the handle. My head snaps to the door, and my eyes focus on the lock.
It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
My fingers tremble as I move to pick up the key, but then the handle to the door starts to rattle.
“Fuck!” I drop the key into the box, closing the lid, and quickly but quietly close the closet door.
As the door handle starts to turn, I bolt over to the bed, lunging for it and spread out, my body bouncing with my movement as Nycto enters, albeit a little sheepish. I turn on my side facing him, propping my head up, trying to catch my frantic breathing as his eyes catch sight of my dress and panties on his desk.
He slowly cracks his neck to the side, flaring his nostrils like he’s trying to keep his shit together. Nycto’s eyes slowly turn to take me in, then they widen as he notices what I’m wearing.
He halts dead still.
Every inch of him stops moving.
Even his chest.
He’s stopped breathing!
I sit up on the bed, watching him in concern. I want to go to him, but I’m worried he’s having a medical episode. “Nycto? Are you okay?”
He finally inhales. It’s sharp, followed by him clearing his throat to regain his focus. He rubs the back of his neck seeming uncomfortable. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
I smirk. “And your pants, technically.”
“I see that.”
“If you wanna get real honest, I’m also wearing your underwear.”
He clenches his eyes closed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”
I twiddle my fingers together nervously. “Sorry if I overstepped. I couldn’t be in that dress any longer—”
His eyes snap open with an intensity in them as they bore down into me. “That shirt is for the president to wear only.”
I gulp a lump down my throat. “I figured seeing as how I’m staying in here, no one but you is going to see me in it.”
“You need to take it off.”
Oh crap! He’s about to lose his shit. Not out of anger, but like he can’t hold himself back from me.
“I’m not putting that dress back on,” I demand while folding my arms over my chest.
Nycto storms over to his closet, yanking it open, and grabbing some random shirt. It also has the RBMC logo on it, but without the president patch. He shoves it toward me. “Change it!”
I huff, my heart hammering in my chest, but I give in. “You need to turn around.”
His eyes wander up and down my body one last time. “Just take off the damn shirt, Eva.”
Tension flows through the room, a buzz filtering between us. My breathing hitches at the thought of him seeing me wearing only my bra, and suddenly I’m like a goddess. The way his eyes are devouring me already makes me feel like a queen.
I shouldn’t be encouraging him.
I should be demanding he turn around.
But if he’s going to play this game, I can play it just as well. “Fine!”
My eyes meet his, and I gnaw down on my bottom lip, the energy sizzling between us as his eyes follow my every move. My hands slide the shirt up over my stomach, his brown orbs admiring my toned tummy as I hitch it higher. He shifts a little to adjust his cock in his jeans as I lift the shirt over my bra. I hoist it over my shoulders and off my head, waving my long hair from side to side. His eyes don’t leave mine and don’t focus on my breasts as they heave. He simply watches me, watching him.
Nycto’s fingers on the shirt clench so tight his knuckles are turning white as I drop his President shirt to the bed standing bare in front of him.
I thought I would feel stripped.
I thought I would feel ashamed.
But the way Nycto’s worshiping me with his eyes only makes me feel like I could do anything right now, and he would willingly let me. The thing is, if he asked anything of me, I would happily let him too.
My skin prickles