Page 72 of Illicit Education

Our eyes locked.

IfeltCabot Reed in every fiber of my being.

That amused lift of his brow pulled a smile from me.

“Miss?”

Cabot’s lips twitched.

“The snaps? Do they work better than the clips?”

Giving my head a subtle shake, I looked back at the customer. “Hmm?”

She shook the garter belt in my face.

“Oh. Yes. Definitely.”

She frowned. “But a second ago you said you didn’t know.”

My eyebrows crept up. “I did say that, didn’t I?”Shit.Fielding questions about lingerie had been the worst part of the job thus far, and this question was no exception. How the hell was I supposed to know if snaps or clips were better?

“What’s your return policy?”

“Our return policy?” I glanced at Reed, mesmerized as he strode toward me.

“Yes, if I don’t like the clips–”

He reached between us and took the garter belt from the woman’s grasp.

“Excuse me,” she huffed, but then she looked up at him and the words died on her tongue.

Relatable.

“Allow me.” Lifting the garter belt in one hand between us, he held my gaze as his nimble fingers unclasped the clip swiftly. “I prefer clips.”

He handed me the strip of lace and walked to the back of the store.

“I’ll take this one,” the woman said, eagerly grabbing the lace from my hands and setting it on the counter. She stared after Reed in awe.

Yeah, same, lady, same.

The man should get a job here. He could sell ice to an iceberg.

He’d probably melt the thing, but still.

When the transaction was finished, I followed her to the door and locked up behind her, then turned around to face him. With my eyes locked with his, I walked toward him, stronger in my steps than I would have ever imagined I’d be in this situation.

But something about this moment felt inevitable. I’d only met the man five days ago, but the pull between us had been building ever since. It was a taut, magnetic pull, drawing me toward him. I couldn’t fight it any more than he could.

As I drew closer, Reed’s head tilted back, somehow making him look even more formidable, even more in control as he stared down his nose at me.

Dressed in a black sweater and dark blue jeans, he was still put together like a work of art, even without his bespoke suits. Everything he wore was meant for him, tailored to his frame.

With a few feet remaining between us, I stopped.

“You’re beautiful.”

I sucked in a shaky breath.