Page 38 of Love to Prove You Wrong

He talked about his favorite baseball team, and how he’d met one of his idols last year.

We happily chatted away, all the while filling the car with sexual tension. It was getting to a point where I needed to crack a window just to let some of it escape. Unfortunately, that didn’t help one bit.

By the time Justin pulled into the parking lot of Suits You Well, I was almost panting, desperate to escape the confines of his Tesla.

A big guy in a suit greeted us at the entrance. I’d never had someone greet me at a store before. At least, not someone dressed in fancy evening wear. I had been greeted by a guy in a clown suit once, but that wasn’t the kind of suit I was referring to.

“Welcome to Suits You Well, madam,” another employee said as we entered the store. “Do you care for a glass of champagne?”

“Why yes, I do,” I said.

I didn’t know why I sounded like a British septuagenarian all of a sudden. It was most likely the vibes this store sent out. Everything was so classy and expensive. It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that people actually shopped here.

“Do you come here often?” I asked Justin in hushed tones.

“Not here specifically. They have stores all over the country.”

The man offering us champagne, who was called Ray according to his nametag, led us to a seating area that looked more like a mansion’s living room than part of a store.

A crystal chandelier adorned the roof above our heads, and the leather sofas seemed to be hand-stitched. I let my hand run over the fabric. It probably cost more than all of the furniture in my house.

I was relieved that I had decided on wearing a dress, instead of my usual jeans and shirt outfit.

A woman placed two glasses of champagne on the marble coffee table in front of us. I thanked her before she click-clacked away on her high heels.

“What are your current suit needs, sir?” Ray asked.

Justin and Ray got talking about cuffs, lapels, and colors. Who knew there were so many options when it came to suits?

Justin disappeared into the dressing room to try on one of the suits, handpicked by Ray himself. He opened the curtain a few minutes later.

“What do you think, Addy?” he asked.

“I… uh…”

My ability to think up a sentence had flown right out of the window.

Justin’s face fell. “You don’t like it, do you?”

“I do,” I said.

He was wearing a dark navy suit, a black leather belt making sure that his pants hung snug, yet classy, around his legs and ass. Justin in normal clothes looked amazing, but Justin in a suit? I now completely understood why he always had hordes of women chasing after him, trying to touch him, or even so much as elicit a smile from him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You look a bit shocked.”

I gulped half of my champagne down. “I am one hundred percent positive. Your nuts look amazing. You. I mean you.”

Wow, I had to stop talking about his nuts. A hint of anger flared up inside of me. It was like Justin made me act in a bad way when I was a good girl. Why did he keep doing that?

Or maybe I wasn’t as innocent as I believed? What if, deep down, I had a bad side that no other guy had ever been able to trigger?

Justin laughed. “At least you’re being honest. I like this one too. Let’s try on a couple of others and compare,” he said to Ray.

With every suit he put on, I got weaker and dizzier. Looking that good in a suit should be prosecutable. Maybe I should take matters into my own hands and call the FBI to report him. Surely looking irresistible and causing someone to have heart palpitations could technically be considered a crime.

Justin and I picked out two suits, the navy one and a black one, and they altered them for him right then and there. I had never known this kind of service existed, but then again, money could buy you anything. Or so I’d heard people say.

After we were all set, we followed Ray to the register. Justin asked him to deliver the suits to the inn, then got his credit card out of his wallet.

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