Page 51 of Dirty Husband
But I look more like I'm going to prom. An '80s prom. Or a Halloween party. It's just not me.
"Maybe something darker," she suggests. "This would be lovely." She pulls a black gown from the rack. It's a simple sheath with a halter top and a smooth skirt. "Or something more daring. I have just the thing." Her smile widens. Her face beams with excitement.
She moves straight to a rack on the right. Pulls off a dress in a deep shade of red. It's cut low. Very low. And the skirt has a high slit.
It screamstrophy wife. Or maybeI'm going to tear this thing off and fuck you senseless.
My head skips over the earlier implication. Goes right to Shep's dirty promise.
I'm not going to touch you until you're on your knees, begging for my cock.
I can see his eyes lighting up. I can feel his hands running over the low neckline. I can feel his hard-on against my ass as he pulls me close.
"Miss Lee," Alexa asks. "Which would you like to try first?"
"The black." I'm not sleeping with Shep. I'm not. It's going to make things so much more complicated. And they're complicated enough.
Alexa helps me out of the pink dress. Then into the designer shoes. The black dress. Onto the podium.
My reflection takes my breath away. Sure, I don't have the makeup and hair to match the majesty of the dress, but I still look like royalty. Elegant, beautiful, rich.
"Gorgeous." She claps her hands together. "Maybe with an updo." She steps onto the podium. Stands behind me. Pulls my hair into a makeshift bun. "It's short, but we can work with that."
"We?" I ask.
"Shep provided a team. You'll go to lunch after this. Then hair and makeup while we steam and press the dress. Then dinner with your fiancé. It's a big event. A business event. A few colleagues will be there." She adjusts the straps. "Shall we try the red dress or are you set with this one?"
"Sure. Let's try it." I let her help me out of this dress and into that one.
Fuck. My eyes go to my chest immediately. Then my legs. I look like a Bond girl, but with the luxe fabric and my, ahem, less than ample chest, it looks more classy than trashy.
I should channel Ms. Monroe. Stay above it all. Giggle and bat my handoh you.
I shouldn't let him affect me.
But that isn't what I want.
I want to drive Shep insane. As insane as he's already driving me.
This dress will do that.
"This one.” I nod. "It's perfect."
She chuckles. "I'm sure Mr. Marlowe will enjoy it as well." She says it knowingly, like she's sure the dress will be on the limo floor the second we're alone.
And, well—
She's partly right.
I'm going to put that image in his head.
I'm going to drive him wild.
I'm going to make him beg me.
Chapter Fifteen
Shepard
