Page 32 of Tamed By You

“Either help me or our lovely suite butler, Ian would no doubt be happy to zip and clip me in.”

“Show me the dress,” I deadpan. Hating the idea of another man seeing her like this.

Why does it bother me so much?

I follow her out of the bathroom like a lost puppy. She halts her steps, clicking her fingers to gain my attention, and points to the large open space. “Hey, stop perving. Go in there. I'll get my dress then we can head downstairs.”

She disappears down the hallway and I head over to the couch area where a small table houses a bottle of vodka and what looks like used shot glasses. I pour myself one, needing some Dutch courage for this conversation with her.

She returns holding a sparkly black piece material.

“That’s a dress?” I point at it.

“Yes, it is.”

“Not much to it, is there?” I realize what bothers me is other men seeing her in that, because even before I see it on her, I know how insanely hot she will look in it.

She starts looking around the room like she's searching for something, lifting cushions and blankets.

“What are you looking for?”

“The opinion I asked you for. Oh, would you look at that? I can't find it because I didn't ask for it.”

I laugh, swiping my tongue along my lower lip, tasting the remnants of the vodka. She steps into the dress, wiggling her body to pull it up. It sparkles and clings to her like a second skin.

“There's a zip in the middle, then a little hook at the top. Can you do it?”

“Manners,” I demand.

“Please,” she drawls.

I gather her silky hair, and move it to one side, brushing my fingertips along the top of her back, watching goosebumps scatter across her skin under my touch. I reach for the tiny zipper and slowly pull it up. Hooking my fingers into the top of the dress, my fingers once again grazing her golden skin as I link the tiny sliver clasp together and then smooth my hands down her body, skimming her waist and landing on her torso.

“All done,” I whisper.

I don’t move, and neither does she. Her breathing is heavier, her body leans into my hold. My hardening length strains against my pants, and I know she must feel it too. All too soon, she clears her throat and steps away.

“Thanks,” she snaps, adjusting the hem of her dress. “I thought you hated me.” She smirks, pointing her finger to the obvious bulge in my pants.

“It’s a hate boner. I promise.”

She huffs out a laugh. “If you say so.”

“You look incredible by the way,” I tell her, feeling the need to compliment her. I don’t think I’ve ever really complimented her.

“Thanks.” A little sparkle forms in her eye. “You scrub up pretty good yourself.”

A beat passes between us, and I have the sudden urge to take her in my arms and kiss her. Before I can consider doing it, she breaks the silence. “So how are we going to do this?”

“Well, I could bend you over the couch, or if you fancy a view whilst I rail you from behind, I could press you against the window.” I point at the floor-to-ceiling window.

“Be serious,” she mutters.

“Oh, I am.”

She throws her head back, and the most beautiful, deep sound of her laughter fills the room. “That’s not what I meant. Please, be serious for a second.”

“Okay, okay,” I concede, holding my hands up in surrender.

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