I can’t tell without touching, and I suspect he won’t let me touch. Ever since that first night he hasn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in me other than friendship, and it’s throwing me for a bit of a loop. If he wants me in that way, shouldn’t he show it? Just a little?
He takes the robe and slips it over his shoulders, still talking about hems and fabrics and I’m not listening. My brain is busy wondering if I’m brave enough to try and push him a little. Get him to show that he still likes me in that way. Is it playing with fire if I do? What if he claims me and takes me to his bed and then gets rid of me because the challenge is gone? What if he thinks humans are gross?
I’m so vulnerable as his slave.
“Well?” Varrik says, and I blink to alertness.
“Well what?”
“You need to dress in a walking gown,” he tells me. “For the party outside.”
“Oh. Okay. I’m sure I have one of those.” My clothing is in an adjacent closet, probably reserved for the wife of whoever normally stays in this room. I go to it and stare blankly at the clothes, trying to remember which one is for walking. “Maybe I should get Aldar to help me.”
“No.”
I’m surprised at Varrik’s tone. He practically growls the syllable out, as if the very thought offends him. Wasn’t Aldar going to help him dress just a few minutes ago, though? It makes no sense.
But he gives me a long, narrow-eyed stare that makes me shiver for reasons I don’t understand, and then he moves past me into my closet and selects a gown. “This one.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I say, feeling shy.
“I know.”
Well, gee. No I’m doing it because I want to or I want to see you naked. No nothing except I know. If there was a chance he liked me before, it sounds like it’s dead now. No need to play coy or be shy about getting naked in front of him. It’s just another day at the office for him. With a sigh, I drop my sleeping gown to the floor and step out of it. I’m wearing panties and a bra-type band that I had the tailor make for me, so at least I’m not completely naked. It’s just a swimsuit, really. Nothing more revealing than that.
He hands me the robe, practically tossing it over my head, and walks away.
I sputter, then bite back my irritation at his arrogance and slide the robe over my body. Guess he didn’t even want to see me in swimwear. Frowning to myself, I slip my bra off so it won’t interfere with the deep cleavage, muttering about his pissiness. I shove my arms through the long, embroidered sleeves and reach for the auto-fastener in the back. No matter how I twist, though, I can’t reach the one mid-back. It has an intricate set of laces programmed into it, and they make a braid up my spine when completed, but I’ll be damned if I can reach the toggle to start it up. After twisting a million ways to Sunday, I come out of the closet and give Varrik a pleading look. “Can you help me if we can’t call Aldar? I can’t reach the fasteners.”
Varrik nods tightly and moves to my side. He doesn’t look at me, and I wonder if I’ve somehow offended him. The man’s hard to decipher. I know a lot of it is because he’s around all these horrible nobles all the time and has to wear a poker face constantly, but I’d really, really just like a hint of how he feels about me.
“Turn,” he says quietly as he approaches.
I do, holding my hair up so it doesn’t snag in the auto-fastener.
I hear him inhale sharply, and before it registers in my brain, his big hand lightly skims down the back of my neck and traces down my bare spine.
Oh.
My nipples prick with need and I shiver all over. If I’d wanted a sign, it’s right there. He still wants me.
I’m so absurdly pleased. I wait for him to touch me again, to trail his fingers lower, to slide the gown off my body and take a good look at me. Is this why he didn’t want to look in my direction? He was being polite while I stripped down in front of him? But he did the same for me…or was he hoping I’d be overcome with lust, too?
It’s entirely possible I’ve been reading him wrong, and the thought makes me so happy I want to laugh.
Instead, I wait, utterly tense. Do it, do it, I chant silently. Touch me. Touch me.
There’s a gentle whirr, and then the auto-fastener tightens the dress against my body.