Page 70 of Any Means Necessary

“Go try on the next dress, I want to see it.”

“You want a fashion show?” Lexie jokes, laughing skeptically. I grin at her, my brows jumping.

“Absolutely. And this time give me a little twirl while you’re at it.” She just shakes her head at me, disappearing behind the curtain. The shuffling inside the dressing room is accompanied by mumbling as Lexie talks to herself.

“This one doesn’t fit right either,” she calls.

“I want to see,” I insist. She steps out, unable to maintain her frown despite her sigh. My eyes run over her, taking my time to admire the emerald green color against her skin.

“It zips, but the top doesn’t fit right.” She gestures to how her breasts spill out of the molded cups of the structured bodice. My gaze roams past her beautiful chest to how the fabric nips in at her waist and skims over the fullness of her hips then flows almost to the floor. I lift a finger and motion for her to spin.

“Where’s my twirl?” She rolls her eyes, but spins for me anyway. I don’t miss how she bites back a smile, and I make no attempt to hide my own. My grin grows as she turns in a circle, giving me a three hundred and sixty degree view of her lush body. “Add that for alterations,” I instruct. “Next dress.”

Five more dresses, five more times she emerges to show me with a twirl. Four of the dresses fit, while one of them is definitely a hard no between design and color. Despite herself, she’s having fun—but not more fun than I’m having. Watching her step out in each dress, getting to see her full figure in different silhouettes, is one of the best times I’ve ever had shopping.

She thrills and gushes over the smallest details, whether it’s the fabric quality or intricate bead work, and her joy is infectious. Making Lexie happy makes me happy.

Lauren, the inhouse seamstress, takes Lexie’s measurements and we hand off two dresses for alterations. Four dresses are boxed up to carry out with us, six dresses total.

Walking out of the store, my hand finds its way around her waist, and I realize I’m nowhere near ready for our shopping trip to be over. I want to see more.

So next comes shoes. Lexie, of course, picks the pairs with the most added details—glitter, rhinestones, bows. Beaming at me over glittery pink stilettos, she says “They’re not really impractical if they make you feel pretty.” A statement I have no intention of arguing with. And damn, does she look pretty in sparkly shoes.

Each pair is the definition of sensual femininity as she puts them on and struts up and down like the aisle is a catwalk. Her little poses and bouts of laughter when she tries on a ridiculous pair just for the hell of it feed my ever growing addiction. I could watch her like this all day, everyday and never get bored. And looking at how many hours have passed, I’ve already started.

Jewelry, handbags, perfume, cosmetics, I try everything I can think of to extend our day together, to keep her laughing. She protests everytime I swipe my credit card, but her frown of disapproval vanishes the instant she’s adding a shopping bag to the growing collection.

Helping her back into the car to head back to the hotel is oddly disappointing. I’ve never liked shopping before, and I still don’t. But shopping for Lexie, is different. I like that.

“I had fun today,” Lexie says. “Thank you, Callum.” The smile on her face is exhilarating, and I want more. She beams and I’m hungry to feel that warmth like an addict jonesing for a hit. If I can keep her smiling like this for the rest of my life, I’ll die a happy man.

“You can thank me properly when we get back to the hotel.”

“Is that why you did all this? So I’ll let you fuck me again, maybe get your cock sucked this time?” She’s curious instead of accusatory. My grip shifts on the steering wheel, tension settling across my shoulders. Her question is simple enough, it’s the answer that’s complicated.

“No.” I don’t bother lying, there’s no point.

“Then why? You hate wasting time and money. Why did you spend so much on me today?”

“For you, it’s never a waste.” The truth is heavy on my chest. I pull my eyes from the road to look at her. There they are again, those messy emotions slowly unraveling my tightly wound control. “I’ll always give you what you need, Dewdrop.”

ChapterTwenty-Six: Lexie

“I still can’t get over this room,” I say, looking at my reflection as I clasp the dainty pear-studded necklace around my neck. It’s one of the pieces Callum purchased during our shopping spree. Something about the fact that he bought it for me, just because I like it, makes it feel special. Everything I’m wearing tonight was purchased by him—from my perfume to the silk platform heels on my feet.

The suite is absolutely incredible, equally as impressive as the lobby. With rich jewel tones, Art Deco details, and gold accents. I could never afford to stay at a place like this, it’s the definition of luxury.

“I expected nothing less from the Manici family,” Callum says walking out of the primary bedroom. My eyes catch on him in the reflection and the breath stutters in my chest. Callum’s tall, broad frame looks incredible in his rich black suit. Walter is a genius, because it fits him like a damn glove. His full beard has been recently trimmed and shaped to perfection, his thick dark brown hair styled in tamed waves. Those smoldering hazel eyes meet mine as he straightens the cufflinks on his white dress shirt.

Hot damn, he’s handsome.

Even as I’m checking him out, his gaze sweeps over me in appreciation—taking in my big, loose curls, full glam makeup, and the light blue dress he had altered for me. My tits also look incredible in this dress, the off the shoulder sleeves with the open sweetheart neckline putting my chest on full display with the help of my industrial-strength strapless bra. My high-waisted shapewear underwear is currently holding me in and smoothing me out.

I’m not sure what to expect at this party for the Raven’s soft opening. Callum will be the only person I know there, and I’ll admit I’m a little apprehensive. I’m not sure whether Callum is attending this party for business or pleasure, but I’m guessing it’s a little bit of both.

Turning to face him, the air between us grows heavy with sexual tension. I can feel his desire to rip this dress right off my body as his eyes move over me—a feeling I know is reflected on my own face looking at his sexy suit. “Speaking of the Manici’s,” I say, forcing a cleansing breath. “They don’t seem like the kind of people who like to be kept waiting.”

“They’re not,” he agrees, though his tone implies he couldn’t care less. His shoulders roll back and I watch him shift into Fixer mode. “You ready?”

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