Chapter 2
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Jess stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight against her chest, the sheer black fabric doing nothing to hide the small straps and slivers of lingerie beneath. Her jaw was set, but Ryan could see her shifting from foot to foot, restless, like her own body was arguing with itself.
“I can’t believe you wanted this,” she muttered, not even looking at him. “You begged for it. And now look at me.” Her voice cracked, equal parts anger and humiliation, though her cheeks glowed a faint, betraying pink.
Ryan’s stomach twisted. She was stunning — impossibly so — but he could feel how much she hated being seen like this, how much she wanted to claw the dress down and cover herself. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to go through with it, that he’d made a mistake, but the words refused to come. He just sat there, silent, ashamed of his cowardice, yet burning with the sight of her.
Her arms slowly loosened. “God,” she whispered, glancing down at the high string of the thong cutting across her hip. “I look ridiculous.” But she didn’t pull it off. She didn’t walk away. She stood there, exposed, trembling, her resentment hanging heavy in the air.
The knock at the door came like a thunderclap. Three steady raps. Jess froze, lips parting, her eyes cutting back at Ryan. For a moment, he thought she would bolt.
Instead, she exhaled sharply, almost like a hiss. “This is your fault. Don’t you dare forget that.”
Ryan swallowed hard and rose to open the door. Standing there was Marcus. Taller, broader, with a presence that filled the space the moment he stepped inside. His voice was low and confident, a simple introduction that somehow carried the weight of command.
Jess’s arms shot back across her chest, but Marcus only smiled, slow and knowing, his gaze sweeping over her without hesitation.
“You’re even more beautiful in person,” he said. Not a casual compliment, but a verdict, final and assured.
Jess’s throat worked in a nervous swallow. She gave a sharp little laugh, more a defense than amusement, her body stiff and braced. “I can’t believe I let him talk me into this,” she muttered under her breath.
Marcus didn’t challenge her words. He simply stepped closer, circling with deliberate ease, as if she were already his to study.
“Arms down,” he said gently, though there was no mistaking the command beneath it.
Her eyes flicked to Ryan, then back to Marcus. A long pause. Then, with clear reluctance, she lowered her arms, leaving herself open.
Marcus’s gaze traveled with unhurried precision, the kind of look that made silence feel heavy. He moved around her, his height making her seem smaller, more fragile in the moment. He stopped at her side, tilted his head slightly, and let his eyes linger on the faint curve of her stomach beneath the sheer dress.
Jess shifted uncomfortably. “See? This is why I didn’t want—”
“Quiet,” Marcus interrupted, his voice steady. “That’s not a flaw. That’s real. And real is what makes you intoxicating.”
Her lips parted, caught between disbelief and an unwilling flicker of pride.
Marcus circled again, this time stepping behind her, close enough that his presence brushed against her back without touching. “Turn,” he instructed.
Slowly, Jess obeyed, facing Ryan as Marcus stayed behind her. Ryan’s throat went dry. Her shoulders were taut, but Marcus reached forward, trailing one finger along the strap of her dress, adjusting it ever so slightly before stepping back.
“Now pose for me. Hands on your hips.”
Jess’s laugh was nervous, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“Do it,” Marcus said, not raising his voice, but leaving no room for negotiation.
Her movements were stiff at first, mechanical, but when she finally set her hands at her waist, Ryan caught his breath. Even in her discomfort, she was magnetic.
Marcus smiled. “Better. Again, but with your chin up.”
Jess hesitated, then lifted her chin. Her eyes darted toward Ryan, wide with embarrassment, but Marcus caught it.
“Not for him,” he said calmly. “For me.”
Something flickered in her expression — irritation, shame, and the faintest hint of arousal. She shifted her weight, the sheer fabric riding higher, her legs tense.
“Now,” Marcus murmured, stepping around to face her, “let me see you. Really see you. Take off the dress.”
Jess froze, every muscle tight. Her voice was low, almost a growl. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
Yet her hands moved. Slowly, grudgingly, she slipped the straps down her shoulders, letting the sheer cover fall, revealing the cut bra and thin thong beneath. She stood there, bare but for the smallest scraps of fabric, her breathing uneven.
Marcus’s smile was faint, approving. He didn’t clap or leer. He simply nodded, as though she had passed the first test.
Ryan sat motionless, caught between awe, guilt, and the sick thrill of watching his wife be measured by another man.
And Jess — cheeks burning, lips parted in shallow breaths — looked like a woman standing on the edge of something she couldn’t yet name.
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