Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
My underwear is a cheap cotton in a practical black. Not a fit for the luxurious atmosphere. But I'm sure Shep will change that soon.
I hate to give him credit, but, God, the thought of silk and lace. Of his hands on my panties. His fingers running over my sex, pressing the smooth fabric—
Shit. Not the time. Even if I'm buzzing with desire. Again.
I try to focus as Alexa helps me into the dress. It's a bit of a procedure, between the boned bodice and the fitted skirt.
She zips. Adjusts the top. Turns me to the three-panel mirror. "What do you think, darling?" She motions one moment. Moves to a rack of shoes. "What size?"
"Seven and a half."
She nods sure and picks up a pair of silver sandals with red soles. Louboutins. Those run in the hundreds of dollars. Sometimes closer to a thousand. "These might not be ideal for the outfit, but they'll give us an idea of the drape."
"Sure."
"For the next one." She sets them in front of me. Stands next to me. Even though she's on the ground and I'm on the podium, she's nearly at my height. She's taller than I am and she's wearing heels. "What do you think?"
"It's fun."
"Yes, it is fun."
I stare at my reflection. The dress is beautiful. And my boobs actually look like they exist. The pink fabric hugs them just so. Makes my figure look hourglass.
But I look more like I'm going to prom. An '80s prom. Or a Halloween party. It's just not me.
"Maybe something darker," she suggests. "This would be lovely." She pulls a black gown from the rack. It's a simple sheath with a halter top and a smooth skirt. "Or something more daring. I have just the thing." Her smile widens. Her face beams with excitement.
She moves straight to a rack on the right. Pulls off a dress in a deep shade of red. It's cut low. Very low. And the skirt has a high slit.
It screams trophy wife. Or maybe I'm going to tear this thing off and fuck you senseless.
My head skips over the earlier implication. Goes right to Shep's dirty promise.
I'm not going to touch you until you're on your knees, begging for my cock.
I can see his eyes lighting up. I can feel his hands running over the low neckline. I can feel his hard-on against my ass as he pulls me close.
"Miss Lee," Alexa asks. "Which would you like to try first?"
"The black." I'm not sleeping with Shep. I'm not. It's going to make things so much more complicated. And they're complicated enough.
Alexa helps me out of the pink dress. Then into the designer shoes. The black dress. Onto the podium.
My reflection takes my breath away. Sure, I don't have the makeup and hair to match the majesty of the dress, but I still look like royalty. Elegant, beautiful, rich.
"Gorgeous." She claps her hands together. "Maybe with an updo." She steps onto the podium. Stands behind me. Pulls my hair into a makeshift bun. "It's short, but we can work with that."
"We?" I ask.
"Shep provided a team. You'll go to lunch after this. Then hair and makeup while we steam and press the dress. Then dinner with your fiancé. It's a big event. A business event. A few colleagues will be there." She adjusts the straps. "Shall we try the red dress or are you set with this one?"
"Sure. Let's try it." I let her help me out of this dress and into that one.
Fuck. My eyes go to my chest immediately. Then my legs. I look like a Bond girl, but with the luxe fabric and my, ahem, less than ample chest, it looks more classy than trashy.
I should channel Ms. Monroe. Stay above it all. Giggle and bat my hand oh you.
I shouldn't let him affect me.
But that isn't what I want.
I want to drive Shep insane. As insane as he's already driving me.
This dress will do that.
"This one.” I nod. "It's perfect."
She chuckles. "I'm sure Mr. Marlowe will enjoy it as well." She says it knowingly, like she's sure the dress will be on the limo floor the second we're alone.
And, well—
She's partly right.
I'm going to put that image in his head.
I'm going to drive him wild.
I'm going to make him beg me.
Chapter Fifteen
Shepard
"Are you sure you aren't in love with her?" Ian shakes his head ridiculous. "If you aren't, you wouldn't mind if I—"
"Fuck off."
He chuckles you're too easy and holds up his drink to toast.
"Isn't it bad luck?" I hold up my glass of sparkling mineral water. Other people opt for more interesting beverages, sparkling apple cider or iced tea or the appropriately named mocktails, since they're mocking anyone drinking one, but why bother? The only thing in the same league as alcohol is coffee.
"Only if it's plain water." He taps his glass against mine. His bourbon, neat, shakes. He typically prefers gin and tonic, but this place doesn't have the right tonic water. And, of course, there's the matter of testing me by consuming my drink.