When Marc looked up and saw her creamy legs on display. How the fabric of her attire hugs her figure, something in him ignited. The kind of clothing Amaya usually wore are modest. Not too tight nor too loose. It could pique a man’s interest if they wanted. Even when he saw her at the wedding, it still didn’t make her look different. But right now she looks seductive even from the back. Damn that ass!
“I asked. What the hell are you wearing?” she gulps as those orbs widen with shock. “What?” she blinks as her breathing hitched. He tried not to stare at her deep cleavage. Marc cursed when he sees a glimpse of her bra, laced and dark blue.
Is she testing me? What the heck is she wearing?
“Answer me when I ask you woman,” he shakes her by the shoulder. Absentmindedly backing her to the wall
