Page 18 of Dirty Roxie
Roxie
I spend a mostly sleepless night tossing and turning. I kept expecting Ronan to come in and join me. I’d told him he could. And not even in a sexual way. I’d meant instead of sleeping on the couch. But he never did.
I feel guilty about it, but he seems in good spirits today, so I’m grateful for that. We spend most of the morning roaming the property after a late breakfast. It gives us a chance to talk freely and makes it look as though we enjoy spending alone time together. A win/win.
Ronan holds my hand until we are out of sight of the resort’s main building, then drops it like I’m diseased. Even going so far as to wipe his palm on his shorts.
What do I find attractive about him again?
We stop at the top of one of the larger hills to take a break. Ronan pulls out a blanket from his backpack along with bottled water and cut up fruit, setting it all out like a picnic under a large shade tree.
“Wow, this is a pleasant surprise,” I tell him.
“I can’t take all the credit,” he says. “The concierge suggested it, but I picked up the water and fruit.”
I laugh. “Your effort shows.”
He throws a piece of strawberry at me, which I almost catch in my mouth. Instead, watching as it bounces off my cheek and lands in the grass at the edge of the blanket.
Once I’ve had my fill of fruit, I lie back on the blanket and shut my eyes, letting the light breeze wash over me and while the sun bakes down around us.
“I have a dress for you.”
I open one eye and turn my head to look at him questioningly.
“For the party tonight,” he explains. “It is formal. I saw a dress in the boutique, and I’m having it sent up to the room for you.”
“Oh, I didn’t even think about that,” I tell him.
“I figured you hadn’t,” he says. But it’s not in a mean way, his voice more understanding.
The resort is hosting a masquerade party tonight in their infamous maze gardens. Which were already closed when we set out on our self-guided tour, so they could set up for the event.
Rumor has it both Andrei and Juan Carlos Ochoa will be there. And possibly even Viktor. While I’m not big on formal wear or events, I am kind of excited about this. One, since we are in disguise, and two, since I might be able to beat some guys up depending on how it all goes down. And three, there will be dancing. I love dancing.
Ronan stretches out beside me, resting his straw hat over his face. I close my eyes again and try to ignore the flutters twittering through me at his nearness. I turn on my side to watch him after I hear his breathing even out, and I’m sure he’s fallen asleep. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping.
Clouds move in over the sun, making the shade about ten degrees cooler instantly. I shiver, wishing I’d brought a light jacket. Ronan snaps his fingers at me. I look up to see him beckoning me closer with his fingers. I crawl up next to him and cuddle into his side. He pulls my head down to his chest and leaves his arm around me.
I pull as much heat as I can from him. Which is a lot, he’s like a furnace. My body relaxes without me even having to try. I hear his heartbeat, slow and steady, through his shirt. The rhythm slowly lulling me to sleep.
* * *
I take longer than I should have to get ready for the masquerade party. I mean, how much is there to do when I’m already wearing a wig and a mask? Still, I vamp the fuck out of my eyes to go with the new dark-haired bob. I feel a little bit like the girl who plays Jessica Jones on TV.
The dress from the lobby boutique is to die for. Part of me wonders if it should embarrass me that Ronan had to buy me a dress for this event tonight. But I’m going with the part of me that doesn’t. This dress fits me better than anything I’ve ever had on my body in my life, hiding everything that I hate and accentuating everything that I love.
My legs look long and my boobs perky. Don’t get me wrong, I love having large breasts. But having them look perky? Forget about it. That never happens. I can push them up to my throat with the right lingerie, but they still won’t look perky. Just pushed up.
Apparently, if you get a dress with enough zeroes on the price tag, you can make any part of your body look pretty much any way you want it to. It’s a deep red, think more rose red than blood. And deceptively simple looking with plunging neck and back lines. Spaghetti straps that thicken as they travel down into theV’sthat cover the front and back. A long slit up the right side and cinched at the waist, with ruching along the seam of my ass that makes it look better than a thousand squats ever could.
If I could get away with it, I would never take this dress off.
I’m using the living area to put the finishing touches on my look as Ronan is in the shower. But I still need my shoes and my thigh holster, both of which I left in the bedroom. When I sit on the bed to put the shoes on, I realize that I can see directly into the shower through the reflection in the bathroom mirror since the door is cracked open. And what I see is the epitome of male perfection.
He’s not a tan man, but he’s not pale either. His eyes are shut, and his head tilted back as he rinses his hair. I figure if he can’t see me while I watch him, no harm done.
So, all I can do is stare.
