Page 72 of Jett

Feeling restless, I pull it off the hanger and take it to the mirror, holding the dress against my body again. I can’t deny it—it looks good against me. The color complements my skin tone and hair, better than I expected.

A secret thrill surges through me. I feel naked. Exposed. But there’s a strange power in that.

My face falls as I remember something about Jett. He’ll be disappointed. He likes women with curves, with cleavage. I’ve noticed that all his women have huge breasts. Whether they’re fake or not, I don’t know, but he’s a breast man.

I can’t compare.

But clearly, he wants me to wear it. For him. Just like I said when I wasn’t thinking straight.

Does this mean he likes me? Or is this just a frustrated man acting out?

This version of Jett—the one in Bermuda—is different. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m leaving. This could be a fling, a last-minute fantasy. There is a constant throbbing between my legs, and it’s been there ever since he put sunscreen on my back.

I’ve fantasized about him during most of my working hours. Maybe I should take the leap and see where this leads.

Brooke comes up late, around ten, and is thankfully ready to crash. I’ve been a bag of nerves waiting for her. I wonder if her father did that on purpose, and kept her there to help bide his time.

After tucking her into bed, I get ready in my room. My heart races as I slip into the dress. The fabric clings to my curves, hugging me in all the right places. I stare at my reflection. The low back, the deep plunge. It fits like a glove, but it exposes so much skin. More than I’m comfortable showing.

Especially to Jett Knight.

This is insane. My heart hammers in my chest, and my nerves are pulled so tight they might snap.

I reason with myself. I’m following his orders, that’s all. I twirl in front of the mirror. The dress is daring, seductive, and shockingly beautiful. I pull my hair up, knowing how much he liked it when I took it down for him last night.

I’m a bundle of nerves, fanning my face with a magazine, trying to calm down. I don’t think I can go through with this. But then I slip into the stilettos, and everything changes. It’s like a magic switch has been flipped and I have an alter ego.

I walk around in my new shoes, which click against the floor with purpose. My hips sway as I walk, my calves are shapely, my entire body transformed by these shoes. I glance at the mirror again.

And love what I see, because I look …amazing. Chewing my lower lip, I feel a shift inside me. I’m not Cari Summers anymore. Not in this dress.

Tonight, I’m someone else. Someone who can look Jett Knight in the eye with confidence, even if it means playing a part.

Chapter 27

JETT

I try to get comfortable. As comfortable as a man can be with a raging hard-on.

I’ve changed into lounge pants and a T-shirt, whiskey glass in hands strategically placed, though a bucket might be better suited to hide the evidence.

I have no idea if Cari will do it. If she’ll wear the dress. I don’t know what’s going through her mind, but I’ve been turning the possibilities over in my head ever since I sent her my surprise gift.

What does she think of it all? Does she think I’m a pervert? Probably. But I need to know. I need to find out if she feels what I feel.

Doubt creeps in. Maybe she won’t go through with it. Maybe she’ll come down in shorts and a T-shirt and call me a disgusting old man.

Or maybe she won’t come at all.

The grandfather clock chimes. Its loud clang drowns out my thoughts—and any other sounds in this cavernous room. But after it stops, I hear footsteps. The clickety-clack of stilettos on the marble floor grow louder with each step.

My heart lurches, and my cock stiffens painfully.

She’s wearing the shoes. Which means …she’s wearing the dress.

My entire body reacts, a surge of desire so intense it’s almost unbearable. My relaxed posture vanishes, and every muscle in my body stiffens. The door flies open and Cari strides in like a breeze—no, like a storm.

Confident. Poised. Powerful.

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