Muse in Lingerie (Lingerie 1)

She tightened the strap around her ankles. “Thanks…” Her word barely came out as a whisper, probably because she hated thanking me even though I didn’t completely lack compassion.

“Stop.”

She had one shoe on, but she stopped before she pulled on the other.

“Clothes off first.”

“I’m not taking my clothes off.” Like my words were gasoline, she immediately fired up.

“What did I tell you last night?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down this ornery woman. I offered to respect her privacy and ignore her past if she was cooperative. I was giving her a chance no one else would extend. The only reason I was putting up with this bullshit was because she had a unique quality. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was impossible not to see. The other nine models on that stage were just as beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the woman before me. Even in jeans and messy hair, she was gorgeous—but I refused to tell her that.

She barely hid her sigh of annoyance before she pushed the shoe off her foot.

“Strip to your panties and bra.”

She rose to her feet but still hesitated, like I was asking her to do something much worse.

I watched her, seeing the way her chest rose and fell deeply. The battle was raging on her face, the fight for her dignity and her need to survive. Her cheeks were paler than they were last night, but that could be because her makeup was gone. Her eyes shifted back and forth before she finally pulled her shirt over her head.

I wanted to remind her that she didn’t have to do this. She could just walk out if she wanted to. But the selfish man inside me didn’t want to let her go. I needed this woman. The second I laid eyes on her, I knew she was special.

She set the shirt on the table, standing in a black bra that looked like it was from a typical outlet store. The straps were thin and cutting into her shoulders incorrectly, and the cups were slightly too big for her size, as if she had lost weight recently. But her attire couldn’t diminish just how beautiful she was underneath.

Her skin actually glowed. With a bright complexion and a sprinkling of freckles, her body was a blank canvas. She didn’t even need foundation on her shoulders or back because she was blemish-free. She was gorgeous—from head to toe.

She removed her jeans next, pulling them down until she stood in a black thong. Her tanned skin complemented the dark lace. Her legs were sculpted and toned, and her ass was big like a bubble. She was one of the curviest models I’d ever seen. She had a tiny rib cage but an incredible bust size. The length of her torso was perfect, on the longer side but not too long. Her legs were the perfect length, and they would rock anything I dressed her in.

She sat down again and pulled on the heels.

I leaned against the table and watched her, seeing her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. It was long and shiny. I remembered the way it looked last night when it was done with big curls.

Nicole knocked before she stepped inside. She set the tray on the table where she placed my breakfast every morning. “Anything else, sir?”

“No.” My eyes remained on Ten, watching her get the heels on.

Nicole understood my moods better than anyone, so she let herself out.

When Ten was finished, she rose to her feet and faced me. She couldn’t mask the irritation in her eyes, but she did the best she could. Taking off her clothes was something she didn’t enjoy doing—clearly.

She would get used to it. “Perfect.” I walked to the other side of the room where there was twenty feet of open space. I turned back to her and crossed my arms over my chest. “Walk to me.”

She took a few steps—and they were all horrendous.

“Stop.”

She halted in her tracks. “What?”

“Walk like you aren’t touching the ground.”

Her fire erupted again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Walk with grace. I know you can do it. You just walked in the door a few minutes ago.”

“But I wasn’t wearing these.” She pointed at her feet. “I’ve worn heels a lot in my life, and these are not heels. These are death shoes. I’m walking like a ballerina.”

“The girls do it every day. You will too.”

When she knew I wouldn’t budge, she sucked it up and did it.

“Shoulders back.”

She improved her posture.

“Straight spine.”

She adjusted herself again.

“Put all your weight on your toes. That’ll stop your heels from wobbling.”

She shifted her stance again, and this time, she finally looked perfect. She stopped when she reached me, her gaze boring into mine.

I looked her up and down, admiring her curves and her beautiful skin. She reminded me of a doll, someone so beautiful they couldn’t be real. Her hair was pulled back and her features weren’t highlighted with makeup, but that didn’t stop her from stealing my entire focus.