Chapter 25 Eyes on me
RORY POV
"Strip."
My eyes grew wide with terror. The word felt like a physical blow to my chest. Strip? Did he mean take off my clothes? Right here? In the middle of the day?
"I-I don't understand," | stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Don't test my patience, Aurora. Strip." He snarled the command, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto the leather armchair.
He adjusted his tie with a sharp, impatient jerk of his hands.
He looked like a man who had never once in his life been made to wait for anything and wasn’t about to start now.
If there's anything I hate more than my deafness, it's my body. I've been picked on my whole life. I've spent years wondering what I did wrong to be born this way, especially when I see women with my curves being celebrated on magazine covers or Instagram. But the world could be so selectively cruel about these things.
I didn't want to be naked in front of this man. I didn't want him to see the soft parts of me, the parts I spent so much time hiding under oversized sweaters. I didn't think my heart could handle another look of disgust.
"Please, don't do th-this," | begged, my voice quivering. I could feel the hot sting of tears threatening to spill.
"You're my wife. I only asked you to strip; there's a lot more you'll be doing before the month is out. This is nothing." He bit out the words as he reached for a crystal decanter of whiskey, pouring himself a drink with steady, terrifyingly calm hands.
"Don't make me do it now. I'm not ready," | whispered.
"Strip, Aurora. I don't have the patience for a performance."
I let out a shaky sigh of defeat. I undid the Chanel jacket and let it pool on the floor like a blue shadow. My fingers moved to the straps of the black silk gown. I closed my eyes tight as leased it down my frame, letting it slide until it hit the floor with a soft hiss.
The cold air of the study hit my skin, making me shiver. I was left in a red lace bra and panties.The bra was too small, it strained against my full breasts, the lace edges digging into my flesh, barely containing them. My nipples tightened under the cool air, poking against the thin material.
"Take off the bra and the panties." His voice was stern, but I noticed the way his accent seemed to thicken, turning into a low, jagged growl.
"Mr. Miller, please..." | pleaded again, my hands shaking.
"I gave you an order. I suggest you follow it if you don't want me to assist you. I promise you won't like my methods as much."
My fingers reached for the clasp of my bra. I unhooked it, but I didn't let it fall. I held it against my chest, my knuckles white. Finally, I tugged it down and let it fall. My heavy breasts bouncing free, the cold air hit my breasts immediately, my nipples hardening on contact, standing stiff and obvious in a way I couldn’t hide.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my Mickey Mouse panties.
I tugged them down.
Cool air hit my bare pussy and I clasped my legs together immediately, trying to hide myself, trying to take up as little space as possible while standing completely naked in my husband’s study in the middle of the morning.
I blinked hard against the tears. Kept my eyes shut. Kept my head down.
I felt ashamed. Completely and thoroughly ashamed in a way that went deeper than embarrassment, standing bare in front of the man who had dismantled my entire life within days and done it without blinking.
“Open your eyes Aurora.”
I wasn’t expecting his voice to soften the way it did. It almost, almost comforted me. But I knew better than to read anything into it.
I opened my eyes slowly. My head was still down, my gaze fixed on my bare feet against the floor.
“Eyes on me.”
Slowly, I lifted my gaze until I met those icy blue eyes. I had expected to see disgust. I had braced myself for a mockery of my weight or my scars. But what I saw was a hungry, predatory heat.
His eyes moved over my body with a heat that made my skin feel like it was being touched everywhere at once, dropping to my breasts, to the curve of my stomach, to the fullness of my hips and thighs, to the junction between my legs where I was pressing myself together trying to preserve whatever dignity I had left. His jaw was tight. His fingers around the whiskey glass were not entirely steady.
He looked like he wanted to devour me.
Okay. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.
He couldn't possibly find me attractive... could he?
"That bastard had no idea what he lost," he muttered. It was low,more like a private thought he hadn't meant for me to hear.
I tried to bring my hands up to cover my breasts, but his voice cut through the air.
"'Don't."
He took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes tracking every curve of my body. He wanted me stripped, and I had done it. What more did he want?
"Come here." He flicked a finger, motioning me forward.