Page 138 of Beautiful Secrets
50
Mika
“This? I cannot wear this.” I flick my hands at the pink dress draping my belly. “I look like pregnant ballerina.”
Cole looks up from his phone, a roguish grin on his face as his eyes slide down the dress. “I think you look good enough to eat,” he says. “And isn’t pink your favorite color?”
“You know I hate pink.” I twirl around, intent on heading back to the bathroom to remove the ridiculous dress I’m wearing.
Cole catches me before I can cross the room, of course. “Mika. Mika!”
“What?”
He turns me around, plants a tiny kiss on my forehead. “You look amazing.”
I huff at him, pry myself out of his grasp. “I look like meringue.”
“Now you’re just making me hungry.”
“I cannot go out like this.”
“You can, and you will.” He steps closer, slides his hands over my ass. Squeezes.
God—just that touch alone sends an illicit thrill through me that makes me want to drop to my knees and beg him to give me another command, just so I can defy him by not obeying.
Maybe then he’ll do what he’s been threatening to for months now and spank me.
I must admit, I am being a touch dramatic about the dress. It actually looks beautiful on me—better than anything else I’ve worn the past few months.
But he knows I hate pink.
I don’t know why he keeps making me wear it.
“You will owe me favor,” I tell him, wriggling in his arms without actually managing to slip free. “Making me go out in such embarrassing clothing.”
“A favor, hmm?” He puts his mouth by my ear. “I’ll think about it.” Cole finally steps back, leaving my body yearning for his touch, but then he’s heading for the door. “Come on. We’re going to be late for the movie.”
* * *
Ican barely believe that this is the same club Cole brought me to a few months ago. Yes, the sign outside has the same name. There are still many people queuing outside, hoping to get in. But inside, the air is clean. No fog machine, no people smoking cigarettes. At first I think it might just be a better air conditioning system that they put in, but I do not even see anyone smoking.
Not a vape, not a cigarette.
And then there’s the music.
I remember it being hardcore. Rough, and relentless. A drumming, frantic beat that made my heart want to leap out of my chest.
Now it is calm. There is still a beat, but it is slow and melodic. Trance-like.
I love it.
And here I was so concerned when Cole pulled up outside the club. Because as much as I wanted to go inside, my first instinct was to tell him to take me back to the apartment. Because how could I possibly expose Tavisha to such harmful things—loud music, cigarette smoke, parties?
But I forget that Cole would never, ever put Tavisha in harm’s way.
He would make the best father any girl could dream of.
It is so sad that it will never happen, though.
