Her voice held a note of frustration. “Assist me out of this, then.”
And he had a win. Sergeant, Bravo Zulu. He reached for the front and realized her ribbed long dress had no buttons. Stalling, he moved down to remove her thigh-high boots, which had lacing front straps. When he pulled them off, he heard her sigh of relief.
Damn, her pretty legs had a sexy golden tan. High-arched feet. Her toenails were a pale pink with white stripes. Amazing what women did for fun. Her mutant black dress was next. Thinking to salvage her modesty, he picked up the frilly knitted throw from the foot of the bed and draped it over her lower legs.
Next. He’d have been more comfortable walking into a firefight.
Her fucking dress had toothpick-sized metal studs down the front that poked through metal grommets. Only way to get it off would be to stick his fingers inside and draw the edges together to release each fucking stud. Her breasts were in there. Jesus, he couldn’t do this.
Her lips curved in a wicked smile. “Don’t stop now, Benjamin.”
“Having fun are we, Mistress?” he muttered and slid his big fingers inside the top.
“Mmmhmm.”
She was warm, her skin silky on the backs of his knuckles. And he was harder than a rock. He worked open the corset part of the dress, and it came undone, catch-by-catch. But the thing was damn tight over her ribs, and she made a sound of pain.
He stopped. How the fuck could he do this if he hurt her? “Anne?”
“Go on.” Her hands were fisted, her fingernails digging into her palms. But her gaze was clear and level. “You’re right—I would have had difficulty getting out of this. I’m not moving as well as I was earlier.”
“What kind of damage are we looking at?” His jaw was tight as he continued as ordered. Prong after prong.
Although she controlled her face, she couldn’t control the involuntary flinches and tightening of her belly.
“Bruised ribs. Nothing broken.” Her voice sounded strained, but finally he was past the most constricted section.
He undid the looser part over her lower stomach and worked his way…down. As he flipped the dress open, he tried not to look.
Bullshit, he totally looked.
His gaze traveled from her thong-covered pussy, up a softly rounded belly, to her sweet, high breasts. Rosy-brown nipples perked up in the cool night air. Her scent was almost edible—like tangerines accompanied by the light musk of a female.
Act like the gentleman you weren’t raised as, Haugen. He drew the blanket over her. Turning his gaze away—so he wouldn’t see how he hurt her—he slid an arm under her back. Shit, her skin there was soft as well. Carefully, he lifted her far enough to slide her dress out.
Now she wore only a thong and a blanket.
The room had grown too damn warm.
“Thank you, Ben. That feels much better.”
“I bet.” He dared greatly and moved the covering to expose her legs. Her right thigh had a bruise almost the width of his fist. He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Boot?”
“The bail fugitive had an overly protective big brother.”
What a fucking job. No wonder she often came into the Shadowlands with bruises and gashes. “Wouldn’t you rather do something…safer?”
Her blue gaze turned chill as the arctic north. “No.”
“Sorry, Ma’am.”
“You do say that quite nicely, you know,” she murmured. She had dimples, something he hadn’t noticed until he’d seen her laughing during Gabi’s bachelorette party.
“I do what?” He needed to leave or he was going to strip that blanket off her again. Find every bruise and kiss them all better.
“Ma’am. I thought you were vanilla, Ben.”
“I am.” And if he’d been daydreaming about her setting a sharp stiletto on his chest, he’d keep those thoughts to himself. “Did a bit of service, is all.”
“Ah.” She eyed him slowly, still not quite returned to her usual frightening brilliance. “Can I pay you for the time and gas to bring me all the way out here?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He paused a second. Hopefully, she’d never share Ben’s request with Z—he’d get his ass fired on the spot. “I think I deserve a kiss from the Mistress.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You are just full of surprises tonight.”
Her husky voice always sounded like a morning after raw sex, but when it dropped to that throaty tone, he could see why men crawled on their knees in her wake.
He waited while she thought. He’d wait all night—fuck knew, looking at her wasn’t a chore.
Rather than answering, she held her arms up.