The Billionaire’s Blind Wife

Chapter 15

Matias

The rain had finally cleared, leaving the New York skyline washed in a crisp, twilight blue. I stood in our master closet a space that had once been a highly organized, monochromatic sanctuary of black, charcoal, and navy suits, but had now been happily compromised by pastel knits, silk slips, and a small army of combat boots. Juniper was sitting on the center velvet ottoman, her bare legs swinging, she was draped in nothing but one of my oversized white button down shirts. The hem pooled mid thigh, and the collar sat crookedly on her shoulders, exposing a smooth expanse of collarbone that I kept finding excuses to look at. "I’m waiting, Stone," she said, leaning back on her hands and tilting her face toward the sound of my footsteps. "You promised me a date. A real, proper, mysterious date. But so far, my stylist has been locked out of the penthouse, and I am currently wearing a shirt that smells like heavy starch and corporate greed."

"It smells like cedar wood," I corrected, stepping deeper into the closet. I stopped in front of the racks holding her clothes. "And your stylist was dismissed because tonight, I’m taking full control."

My wife let out a dramatic gasp, her hand flying to her chest. "You? Dressing me? Oh, please. You wear the exact same suit in five different shades of depressingly dark grey. I’m going to end up looking like a very tiny, very blind junior partner."

"Have a little faith, brat," I murmured. I turned my attention to her side of the wardrobe. It was a sensory playground. Soft silks, heavy velvets, delicate laces, and textured wools. As my hands brushed through the hangers, I realized something unexpected: I actually liked doing this. The physical act of selecting what would touch her skin, of imagining how the fabric would drape over her curves that I had spent the last several nights memorizing in the dark, was surprisingly intimate. Highly distracting, but incredibly satisfying. My fingers stopped on a silk slip dress. The fabric was a deep, rich ruby red. It was incredibly soft, almost weightless. I pulled it from the rack, along with a tailored, cream colored cashmere trench coat to keep the evening chill off her bare shoulders.

I walked back to the ottoman, holding the silk out. "Touch this." Juniper reached out, her delicate fingers finding the fabric. As her fingertips slid over the heavy, liquid silk, her sarcastic smirk softened into something curious."Red?" she guessed, her voice dropping."Yes," I murmured, leaning down until our faces were inches apart. The feel of her warm skin and scent of vanilla was dizzying. "And you’re going to wear it with the cream cashmere coat. And no shoes. Not yet, anyway." Her breath hitched, her amber eyes searching the dark space near my jaw. "No shoes? Where are we going, Matias?"

"It’s a secret," I whispered, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, enjoying the way a tiny shiver ran down her neck. "Now, stand up June. Let me help you."

"Help me?" she teased, though her voice lacked its usual bite, turning soft and slightly breathy. "Or you’re just finding an excuse to take your shirt off me?" "Both," I said hoarsely. I reached down, my hands sliding under the heavy cotton of my shirt, my palms finding the warm, silken skin of her waist. I lifted her up slowly, her hands instinctively finding my shoulders for balance. As the white shirt pooled on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her delicate lace lingerie, the air in the closet grew thick and heavy. The playful banter evaporated, replaced by a sudden, hammering tension that vibrated between us. I stood there, holding the red dress, my eyes tracing the elegant line of her throat, the curve of her waist, the soft rise and fall of her chest. "Matias," she breathed, her fingers tightening on my shoulders. "You're doing the staring thing again. I can feel the heat."

"I’m definitely staring," I admitted, my voice thick. "And I don't think I've ever made a better executive decision in my life." I carefully slid the red silk over her head. The fabric flowed down her body like water, hugging her curves perfectly, the hem whispering against her shins. I stepped behind her to pull up the zipper, my knuckles lightly brushing the sensitive skin of her spine. She let out a soft, shaky breath, leaning back slightly against my chest. "You’ll make a very attentive lady's maid, Matias," she whispered, turning her head so her lips nearly brushed my cheek. "Do you perhaps charge by the hour?"

"For you?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around her from behind, pulling her back against me so she could feel the hard, steady beat of my heart. "My rates are entirely unreasonable. You’ll be paying for this for the rest of your life."

"Good," she breathed, her hands sliding over mine. "I'm excellent at managing long-term debt."