Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Surely, it doesn’t take that long to put on a dress.”
My stomach flips. There’s something kind of wicked about dressing and undressing knowing Whit is just on the other side of the door, listening to the sound of zippers overlaid by the low hum over our conversation. Conversation, I’ll admit, I’ve been hamming up kind of girl’s time! I’m not sure Charlotte gets what I’ve been putting down, but she’s played her part all the same. We chat, we giggle, we admire, making oohs and aahs before I open the dressing room door with a ta-da! kind of reveal for Whit’s endorsement.
He wanted to play dress-up, so I get to ham it up.
“I love the way this one feels,” I murmur sultrily as I slide my hand over my hip as though he could see.
“Yes, it really is rather beautiful on you.” Bending, Charlotte adjusts the train like a lady-in-waiting.
“Thank you, Charlotte. You’re such a doll.”
“Come on,” Whit mutters in complaint. If I’m not mistaken, that was his forehead hitting the door.
“When was the last time you wore a dress?” I ask, not bothering to hide the smile from my words.
“I remember taking a few of them off.” Charlotte giggles quietly, like he needs the encouragement. “And it never took this long.”
“You probably used scissors,” I call back. Then a little lower but still loud enough for him to hear, I add, “He has to hurry on account of his little problem.” Charlotte’s expression is a picture—a picture reflected back at me from all angles, thanks to the excess of mirrors in here.
“My little problem,” he purrs. “That’s not what you called it this morning. Not when your mouth was stretched wide—”
“In shock? Yeah, sorry. That was unfortunate. I didn’t mean to make you feel—”
“What’s unfortunate is the fact that I’ll need a walking frame before I get to see this dress,” he grumbles. “Charlotte, the phone is ringing in the other room.”
“Thank you, but that’s fine. There’s an answerphone.”
“I think you ought to answer it,” he adds. “It might be your boss.” A pause follows. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it ringing, either.”
“Maybe you should check,” I suggest.
“Maybe.” Her expression seems conflicted but then she adds, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“No problem.”
Unlocking the door, she slides silently out. I make as though to lock it, just for fun, when I’m prevented by Whit’s foot.
“It took you long enough…” His words trail away as I pull the door open fully. His shoulder pressed to the doorframe, his stance is utterly casual, though his gaze tells another story as it wanders down my body. The sensation it causes is like his fingers had traveled the same path.
“A sight worth waiting a dozen hours for,” he says, husky voiced with approval.
I pause to unknot my clumsy tongue, my attention on my hand as I smooth it down the front of my thigh. “It is a beautiful dress, but—”
His finger at my chin, Whit lifts my gaze to his. “You are beautiful, Amelia.”
“But this dress…”
“Is perfect.”
“It’s too much, Whit. I can see by your face what you’re going to say, and the answer is no.”
His chest moves with a chuckle. “How did you guess I was about to promise I’d fuck you in it?”
“Funny,” I deadpan. “But you’re not buying this for me.”
“I think you’ll find that has nothing to do with you.”
“No!”
“Yes. I’m also going to take you out on a date while you’re wearing it.”
“Whit—”
“Yes. If you can date other men, you can be my arm candy from time to time.” I narrow my gaze, not sure if I believe his flippant tone. “And if you’re a good little date, I might even kiss you on the doorstep. Of course, I’ll be on my knees, under the hem.”
“Come on, stop it,” I whisper hiss. “She’ll be back any minute.”
“We’d better make this fast then, I suppose.” As quick as those words are spoken, he’s inside the dressing room, clicking the lock closed on the door.
“Not even!” I say with stuttering chuckle.
“Why, whatever do you mean?” His answer is the embodiment of an elderly aunt with a hand pressed to her chest. Not Doreen, obviously.
“You and me.” I waggle my finger in the air between us. “In here?” I make a circle to indicate the space. “Not happening.”
He chuckles as he curls his hand around my shoulder. “You have a dirty mind.” He turns me to face the mirror, the mirror I’m currently pulling a you wish face in. His sly smile feels like a bolt of current as, without moving his gaze, he brings his lips to my ear. “You’ve been so easy to corrupt.”
Were truer words ever spoken?
“I’m serious.” As serious as a girl can be when her nipples are rubbing against the lace of her dress at the illicitness of his suggestion. He hasn’t suggested it, but something tells me it’s only a matter of time. And God help me, for obvious reasons, I’m gonna have to buy these panties myself.