Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Barron

“ I -I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” she stammers.

Just what I thought. That’s right, little thief, I’m living rent free in that brain of yours. And I’ll never let her forget it.

My presence had the desired effect after all. Abigail is thoroughly flustered and desperate to escape. She wandered into the lingerie shop without a conscious thought.

She whirls around on her heel, likely intending to backtrack out of the boutique as quickly as she stumbled in. Unfortunately for her, the hapless girl runs straight into me with a muffled, “Oomph.”

Her generous breasts press against my chest; her palms land flat against my ribs. Her trim body is flush against mine for the span of a heartbeat.

With her slight frame, she doesn’t have enough mass to sway me. But a jolt goes through me just the same, an unexpected spark of awareness low in my gut that sends that shock wave through my body.

Before she can react, I reach out and grasp her elbow in a firm grip to steady her. She stiffens but doesn’t immediately pull away. Her gaze comes to mine, eyes filled with a mix of emotions: surprise, embarrassment, and something else.

“Careful, sweetheart,” I rumble, with a thread of amusement lacing my voice. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

As expected, Abigail jerks her arm free from my grasp, putting a few crucial inches between our bodies. But she’s still close enough for me to see the way her pupils dilate. The way her chest rises and falls with every breath.

What is it I see there? Fear? Arousal? Maybe a combination of both.

“I’m fine,” she says, though the tremor in her voice undermines her bravado. “I don’t need your help.”

Of course she doesn’t need my help, I scoff inwardly. Not when she has my mother wrapped around her little finger. She has unfettered access to my family’s wealth without having to put the least bit of effort into earning it.

The wave of anger cutting through me is enough to clear the fog of lust.

“I’m aware,” I reply flatly, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “You always find a way to keep yourself out of trouble, don’t you?”

She stands there staring up at me, her plump lower lip trembling as if she’s ready to respond but can’t quite force the words out.

What’s going through that devious brain of yours?

Is she replaying that fraction of a second where her body was against mine?

Before I can make sense of the array of emotions flickering in those expressive eyes, she takes a jerky step backward, increasing the space between us again.

She’s left with no choice but to walk around me if she wants to make her escape. She leans as far away as possible to avoid any chance of accidental contact.

Go on assistant, run.

“Is something wrong?” the attendant asks, glancing past me with confusion.

I offer a dismissive shrug, not about to elaborate on Abigail’s skittish behavior. “I guess she changed her mind.”

“That’s too bad,” she murmurs, cocking her head as she continues to stare down the aisle where Abigail fled. “With a figure like hers, she’d look banging in some of these pieces.”

Is she oblivious to the tension or exceptionally professional, not letting the scene affect her customer service?

“Was that Abby?” Holly’s familiar voice pipes up beside me. Her attention lingers on Abigail’s retreat, a slight frown creasing her brow. “What did you say this time?”

“Nothing she didn’t deserve,” I say, keeping my tone neutral as I contemplate the woman’s observation. I glance around the decadent lingerie shop. I try to picture the prim, buttoned-up girl wearing some of these sinfully revealing pieces.

The darker leather and vinyl pieces don’t fit Abigail’s image. She’s too soft, too innocent for the harsh, severe designs. Though the woman is right, the more feminine lingerie would be a beautiful fit.

The image of Abigail’s lush curves poured into a deep-purple corset is startlingly vivid in my mind’s eye. The fabric hugging her waist, pushing up her breasts. Her shapely ass covered in an enticing scrap of dark-blue lace. The sheer fabric hugging every curve before falling away to reveal the toned expanse of her legs.

How did my thoughts end up straying in such an alarmingly seductive direction? I can’t quite suppress the low, rumbling growl that vibrates up from my chest at the arousing mental image.

Holly is ogling one of the black leather bustiers, tracing the rows of sleek gunmetal studs with an impish grin.

“Can you imagine Abby in something like this?” She flashes me an exaggerated grin.

Part of me wants to rebuff the ridiculous idea. But I’m intrigued at the prospect of seeing Abigail decked out in these tempting garments.

What would it be like to tear away that layer of false propriety she hides behind? I suspect I’d find something darker, more dangerously sensual lurking underneath that prim facade.

I give an inward shake, turning my attention away from that tempting path. There’s no point torturing myself with fantasies about full breasts pushed up in purple corsets, no matter how alluring the mental images may be.

Now I’m getting fucking annoyed. I’m standing here wondering what Abigail would look like wrapped in the luxurious bits of silk and lace.