Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
What I do see is Brock, sitting casually in one of the two wing-backed chairs. “Nope.”
“What?” I ask, glancing down at the basic dress.
“It’s practically a potato sack. Try again.”
I huff out a huge breath. “What if I like this one?” I demand, glancing at myself in the full-length mirror standing off to the side.
“Do you?”
I realize right away that I don’t. I hate it. It clings to my body in all the wrong ways and has a shapeless look to it. “No.”
“There you go. Next.”
I exhale loudly, glancing around and finding Sasha off to the side, refolding dress shirts, and sulk back inside. It goes that way with three more dresses. They’re lovely, but not on me. I’m starting to get annoyed and aggravated after the fourth failed dress. “You know what? This is useless. I’m just going to get the potato sack.”
Brock stands up and heads for the dressing room, making it feel extremely tiny with his large body towering over me. He thumbs through the remaining garments hanging on the rack, pulling off one in a deep blue and holding it out to me. “This one.”
“What?”
“Try this one. If it doesn’t look good, you can get the potato sack.”
I growl in frustration before snatching the dress from his outstretched hand. When I turn around, he doesn’t move, remaining standing in the doorway of the dressing room. “Are you staying?”
Something flashes through his eyes before he slowly shakes his head. He backs out, and I swear he hesitates before pulling the curtain closed. My mind is all sorts of messed up, because it looked like he was about to stay.
And that’s just stupid.
Why would someone like Brock Williams go for someone like me when there are women like Sasha and Gisele, with their fancy outfits and hair looking like they just walked out of the salon.
Carefully, I slip on the blue dress, instantly perking up when I spy how well it fits. I slip the single strap over my right shoulder, tuck the exposed bra strap beneath the material of the dress, and zip up the side. When I step back to survey myself in the mirror, I actually gasp.
“Are you coming out?” Brock hollers from the other side of the curtain. “Or am I coming in?”
I take one last look at the dress, loving how it hits just above the knee and how the lace overlay somehow makes the dress look classy and not cheap, considering how tight it is. There’s a slight tremble in my hand as I push back the curtain and slowly step out.
“About time, I was just about to come in—” His eyes are wide and his jaw practically dragging on the floor. “—there. You can’t wear that.”
I glance in the mirror to the side and then turn to check out the back. “Why? Is my ass hanging out?”
“No,” he whispers, his voice sounding dry and crackly. “You look… wow.”
“Wow?” I ask, finally glancing his way once more. “Good wow, or ‘holy shit, I can’t believe your friends let you out of the house looking like that’ wow?”
“Good,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Very good. That’s the dress.”
Brock not-so-discreetly adjusts himself before he turns around and starts to walk away. “Hey, where are you going?”
“To pick out a shirt,” he announces, but before he gets too far away, I swear I hear him mumble, “before I do something naughty to you in that dressing room.”
With a smile on my face, I slip back inside the small changing area and prepare to redress in my street clothes. Yes, this is definitely the dress, and tonight, I might enjoy making Brock Williams swallow his tongue.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Brock
My cock is hard. It’s not just hard. It’s throbbing, painstakingly so, as I walk through the store. When I pulled the deep blue dress out of the rubble of her other options, my only thought was to help her find something other than that damn potato sack. I wasn’t thinking, and that’s the problem. The dress was sexy, and I knew she would look sexy in it.
The issue? It’s not just me who will be looking at her in that dress. It’s going to be every fucking male at Sully’s. It’s going to be every man who is close enough to lay eyes on her. The bigger issue? She’s flying solo. It’s not like she’ll be on my arm. I won’t be able to hold my head high knowing that she’s mine and that she’s going home with me, no matter how badly I wish that were the case.
No, my dumb ass dressed the woman who I can’t stop thinking about as a fucking sex goddess, and I don’t know how I’m going to handle the attention it’s going to bring her. Maybe I’ll walk close to her, close enough that everyone with a dick thinks she’s mine, but not so close that Caleb or their dad will notice and get suspicious. I feel my shoulders relax just a little with my new plan. It’s a far reach as far as ideas go, but I’m going with it.