The mall was colder than it needed to be. Air conditioning blasted through the wide corridors like it was trying to tame heat that hadn't even arrived yet.
But heat was exactly what Riley brought with her.
Marcus stood beside her at the escalator, trying not to stare too openly at the woman who somehow made casual shopping feel like a slow seduction. Her sundress was red—tight at the waist, looser at the bottom, short enough that one good breeze could've started a scandal.
The neckline?
Let's just say it wasn't really a neckline. It was a trap.
Low. Deep. Scooped just enough to make her breasts look like two full promises about to spill out.
"You're staring again," Riley said, not looking at him as they passed a sunglasses kiosk.
"You wore that on purpose."
"Of course I did."
"Dangerous."
She gave a faint smirk, not denying it.
They passed a lingerie store. Marcus half-turned.
Riley saw it.
"Too shy to follow me in?" she teased.
"You'd wear something from there?"
She stopped walking. "You think this body doesn't deserve satin?"
He stepped closer. "I think satin would beg to stay on longer."
She laughed softly, leaning into his ear. "You'd be shocked how often it doesn't stay on at all."
Marcus was hard in seconds, but controlled. Focused. She was testing him.
And he was starting to enjoy being tested.
They kept walking, turned into a boutique, and Riley made her way toward the back like she owned the place. Her fingers brushed against hangers, picking out dresses one by one.
Tight. Tighter. Straps. No straps. She held up a halter dress with a plunging cut that would leave little to the imagination.
"This one looks like a problem," she said.
Marcus crossed his arms. "You like problems."
"I am a problem."
She turned toward the dressing room and paused at the curtain. "Coming?"
Marcus raised a brow. "Seriously?"
"I'm not modest. You've already seen more through a soaked shirt than most men get with a camera."
She stepped in, pulling the curtain halfway closed but not all the way. That sliver of space felt criminal.
He waited outside, back against the wall, watching her shadow move as she peeled the sundress off. Her silhouette—a full hourglass—moved slowly, deliberately. Like she knew he was watching. Like she wanted him to.
Then her voice came through the curtain: "Problem is… I might need a second opinion."
He took one step forward.
"You sure?"
"Get in here, Marcus. I need your hands."
His throat tightened. He slid through the curtain and froze.
The dress was halfway on.
Her breasts were pushed up but not yet secure in the halter, the fabric hanging low enough to show the deep valley between them. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes were wild.
"I can't get the zipper," she said, turning and pulling her hair aside.
He stepped closer, the air thick with perfume and something heavier—need.
He touched her back, fingers slow against her spine as he found the zipper and slid it up, inch by inch. Every motion brought the fabric tighter against her curves. By the time it was in place, her breasts looked like they were on the verge of exploding from the top.
She turned, holding the neckline, her cleavage right in front of his face. "So… how's it look?"
Marcus stepped closer, hands at his sides. "Like the dress is begging to be torn."
She didn't flinch. "Touch it."
He hesitated, then slowly, reverently, raised one hand.
He let his fingertips rest just along the outer swell of one breast—not rude, not grabbing—just present.
Riley gasped. Quietly. But she didn't pull away.
"You know what I like about you?" she whispered.
"I'm listening."
"You don't ask permission… but you never take what hasn't been offered."
He let his thumb drag slightly over the top of the dress, pressing the fabric against her flesh. The swell of her breast shifted under the lightest pressure.
"You're offering now," he said.
"I'm offering a taste," she replied. "Not the whole thing."
He leaned in, mouth a breath away from her chest. "That's all I need."
And then he did what most men wouldn't dare.
He kissed the fabric. Right where her breast curved outward, where the dress strained to contain her. A slow, open-mouthed kiss through the red satin, lips pressing gently against her nipple until she gasped.
Her hand gripped his shoulder. Not to push him away—but to steady herself.
"Marcus…"
He kissed again. Then let his teeth graze the edge—not biting, just brushing.
She moaned softly. "You're playing with fire."
He looked up. "You lit the match."
Suddenly, she turned and pressed him against the wall of the dressing room.
"You want to be the one in control?" she said, straddling his thigh, her breath hot against his cheek. "Or do you want to see how much you can handle before I make you snap?"
His hands went to her hips instinctively, pulling her closer.
She ground down on his thigh—a slow, teasing ride—her breasts practically bouncing against his chest with every motion.
"This dress is nothing," she whispered. "You should see what I wear underneath."
"Then show me."
She smirked, leaning back just enough to pull one strap to the side.
Her black lace bra underneath wasn't shy. It didn't cover much—barely cradling her breasts while lifting them just enough to give Marcus a view that made his breath stop short.
He reached, sliding one hand underneath the cup, not touching skin—just pressing the lace against her chest until her nipple strained under his palm.
"I could spend hours here," he murmured.
She grabbed his wrist. "Then you better last."
They stayed like that—grinding, teasing, half-dressed—for what felt like an eternity. Riley's thighs tightened around him with every motion. His arousal was painfully obvious now, and she relished it.
"Next time," she whispered in his ear, "I want your mouth somewhere lower."
And then she stopped.
Stepped back.
Fixed the strap. Adjusted the neckline.
Just like that.
Tease complete.
He exhaled hard. "You're evil."
"I'm generous," she said. "You'll thank me later."
They exited the dressing room, Riley glowing, Marcus stunned.
Outside the boutique, she turned to him.
"Next time, you pick the place. I'm done shopping for now," she said. "But something tells me you've got something else in mind."
He nodded slowly. "A few ideas."
"Then bring one to life. I'll be ready."
And with that, she turned—hips swaying, breasts bouncing, and Marcus trying not to chase her straight out of the mall.