THE COSTOF HIS DESIRE

My mouth went dry. I didn't move. I couldn't. Damian didn't wait for me to answer. He walked past me like he owned the floor beneath his feet-which he did. A dark leather couch sat against the wall, and he lowered himself onto it with slow, calm ease. He rested one arm along the backrest, legs slightly apart, relaxed like this was nothing. Like I was nothing. His eyes never left me. "Go on," he said quietly. "Pick one." My stomach twisted. I stared at the dresses on the bed, my hands shaking at my sides. I didn't know which one to touch. I didn't want to touch any of them. "Put it on," he added, voice steady, almost gentle-but the kind of gentle that came with a warning. "I won't repeat myself." I swallowed so hard it hurt. My feet felt nailed to the floor. I forced myself to reach toward the bed, fingers trembling as they brushed the edge of a red silk dress. It felt like ice and fire at the same time. Damian leaned back into the couch, still watching me. I could feel his stare on my skin, heavy and sharp. "Don't take all night," he said. "I'm waiting." The room felt smaller with him sitting there. The air seemed too thin. My breaths came too fast. I picked up the red dress with both hands, but my arms were weak. The fabric slipped once before I caught it again. I turned my back to him, trying to hide the panic clawing up my throat. Before I could take a step, his voice cut through the air. "No," he said. "Right there." I froze. My heart pounded so loud my ears rang. "Here?" I whispered, afraid to turn around. "That's what I said." I could feel his eyes on me, hot and unblinking. I clutched the dress tighter, my fingers digging into the silk. My breath stuttered, my body stiff with fear. I didn't know what would be worse-putting it on... or refusing. My fingers shook so badly I almost dropped the dress. I could feel his gaze burning into my back, waiting. Expecting. I couldn't breathe. Slowly, with hands I could barely control, I reached for the zipper of my old clothes. The sound was soft, but in the quiet room it felt deafening. My heart pounded so hard I thought he might hear it. I pulled the dress I was wearing down my shoulders. The fabric slid off my skin, and cold air rushed over me like a ghost. I stood there in just my undie*, every inch of me exposed to the silence... and to him. I didn't turn around, but I didn't have to. I could feel his eyes on me-heavy, sharp, unblinking. My skin prickled under his stare, like he was touching me without moving a finger. My mind spun. What was he thinking? Was he judging me? Was he pleased? Disappointed? I hated that I cared-but fear crawled under my ribs anyway. My arms crossed over my chest on instinct, trying to cover myself, but it didn't help. I could feel it-his gaze lingering. On my back. On my waist. On the curve of my body I wished he couldn't see. And then I felt it-his eyes lower... stopping on my brea*t. My throat tightened. Shame hit me hard. My body stiffened like I was trapped in a spotlight. I didn't want him to look at me like that. I didn't want him to look at me at all. But he did. And he didn't stop. Was he amused? Was he planning something? Was this all part of the price he said I had to pay? My heart pounded so fast I thought it might break through my chest. I bit the inside of my lip to stop it from trembling. I wanted to scream, or run, or hide-but I couldn't do any of those things. I stood there frozen, trapped in my own skin, while he watched like he had all the time in the world. And then... His voice cut through the silence. "Put it on." My hands fumbled with the red silk dress, trying to find the opening, trying not to drop it. The material was smooth, expensive, nothing like anything I had ever worn in my life. I stepped into it, my knees weak, my fingers clumsy as I pulled it up my body. The fabric hugged me too closely. It felt like it was molding me into someone I didn't know. Someone I didn't want to be. Before I could try to zip it, I heard him shift on the couch. "Turn around," Damian said, his voice low and calm. I froze, my hands still clutching the dress against my chest. My throat tightened. "Now." I turned slowly, my eyes fixed on the floor. The dress hung loosely on me, unzipped, the red silk glinting under the light. I could feel my pulse in my ears, in my hands, in my knees that barely held me up. He didn't say a word at first. He just stared. His eyes dragged over me in a way that made my stomach twist and my skin burn. I couldn't read his expression. I wasn't sure I wanted to. Then....he stood. One step. Then another. Each one slow, silent, controlled. I forgot how to breathe. He stopped right in front of me. So close I could feel the heat of his body. So close I could smell the faint spice of his cologne. His hand lifted. Not to touch me. Not yet. His fingers brushed the zipper. I went still. I didn't breathe. I didn't blink. I didn't dare move. Slowly-too slowly-he pulled it up. The sound was soft, but it felt deafening in the quiet. Each inch of the zipper climbing my back felt like a lock closing behind me. When it reached the top, his hand lingered... just for a second. Then he stepped back. I stood there, staring at nothing, my heartbeat loud in my ears. The red silk hugged my body like it had been made for me. Every curve was outlined-my waist, my hips, my chest. The fabric dipped low in the front, and I hated how exposed I felt. I didn't turn around, but I could feel his eyes dragging over me-slow, careful, deliberate. Like he was studying something he owned. A chill rolled down my spine. The air felt too thin. My hands were shaking, but I curled them into fists to hide it. I couldn't tell if I should stand taller or make myself smaller. I just knew I couldn't escape his gaze. Then I heard him move. A quiet breath. A shift of weight. The faintest sound of leather against leather. He was coming closer again. My lips parted, but no sound came out. I could feel the heat of his stare, heavy on my skin, settling on the places the dress didn't hide. My heart pounded harder with every step he took. And then... His voice, low and unreadable, slid through the air. "Turn around." My stomach dropped. Because I knew the next move wasn't mine anymore.