Page 94 of Siren's Game

It took me an hour to get ready, but now I'm happy with how I look and all set to go.

The deep red dress fits like a glove. Its corseted top keeps everything in place with fashionably small and very nonfunctional short sleeves falling over my upper arms. It has a slit that goes up to my hip—thank God for double-sided dressing tape to keep everything in place. I've definitely plastered a bunch of it onto my skin to keep myself decent and had to getverycreative with my underwear. Thank God I found a slip that sits high enough on my hip.

My hair is falling over my shoulders in curls, a 'fuck you' to our label who would prefer me to throw chemicals into my hair just to keep it straight.

Not happening. And today, I just couldn't help myself.

I held myself back on the eye makeup, but there was no way I would wear this dress without bold, red lips to match.

"You look amazing." Asher takes my hand and lifts my arm to make me do a little twirl, and when I lift my head to look at his face again, he's smiling wide like a little child on Christmas morning, setting eyes upon his giant pile of presents.

When his hands wander to my hips and he pulls me closer to him for a kiss, I bring my arms up and gently push him away.

"Nu-uh," I scold him playfully. "I look perfect. I'm not letting you mess anything up, not even my lipstick."

"My heart," he says dramatically and clutches his shirt right above said heart. I roll my eyes at his dramatics and run my hand through his hair.

He's dressed in completely black, from his suit jacket to the vest to his dress shoes, his hair falling over his shoulders.

I love it when he wears it down. Not that I don't love the man-bun, but there is just something about being able to play with his hair and run my fingers over his scalp. The only thing that brings color to his look is the handkerchief in his breast pocket, a nice little accessory I got with the dress.

Whichever designer gave this suit to him is probably not going to be happy about us messing with the color concept, but I couldn’t give any less of a damn.

Asher looks so fucking good in suits. They make it very hard to keep my hands off him. With all of his muscles, they tend to fit him like a glove, and the way dress shirts stretch over his chest is really fucking sexy. Shame he's wearing a vest over it today.

"You'll be fine." I pat his shoulder and shoot him a wink. "When's the limo coming to pick us up?"

He checks his wrist for his watch, then looks at me with wide, smiling eyes. "Five minutes ago."

"Perfect." I take my burgundy high heels out of the dresser and throw them to the ground because I absolutely cannot bend over with this corseted dress. Holding onto Asher's upper arm, I slip my feet into them, taking a cautious step once they're on.

Being as tall as I am, I don’t get too many opportunities to wear high heels. I’m not talking about half an inch heels, I’m talking about foot-breaking, ass-shapinghighheels.

So it takes a few more steps until I get used to these shoes again.

"Ready, Sweetheart?" Asher asks and holds his arm out for me to link mine with. Nodding, I do just that, clutching onto it when I almost slip on a carpet edge.

Did I mention that I love that he's taller than me?

All the love to all the short kings out there, but the fact that I can wear high heels and still not be taller than Asher is such a turn-on, especially in a dress like this.

I feel like a goddamn succubus, sexier than I’ve felt in a while, and with each step that shows my leg, Asher's eyes convey the exact same thing.

Industry functions are usually boring as fuck, but this one might just become interesting with the way his eyes eat me up.

The crowd goes wild when we arrive in our limousine.

Well, not exactly, but cameras start flashing as soon as the door opens. Asher's face sets and his hand flexes on my knee—he's not very thrilled about those blogs trying to get underskirt shots of me. I learned that when I asked him why he always insists on opening my car door for me, since, you know, I'm a strong, independent woman and all that shit. When he told me that reasoning, I quickly shut up, though.

Of course, I was aware that a website like that exists. It’s not like I became a celebrity yesterday, and even before I was, I knew that people would sexualize me and pull crap like that.

To learn that it’s to a degree that makes Asher’s blood boil brings it to a whole new level, though.

So, just like always, Asher jumps out of the car first, planting himself right in front of the car door and pulling it close until I’m not visible from outside as I as I turn in my seat, extend my legs out of the car, and stand up.

And just like always, I shoot him a grateful smile.

Today I'm extra thankful, because as beautiful as this dress is, it's just risky as fuck. There are certain movements where even tape won’t keep the fabric in place and getting out of cars is definitely a strong contender for such a movement.

---