Page 32 of Hot Blooded
And she is. Her pink hair is secured in a low bun and her makeup looks impeccable.
I check the time and decide I need to finish getting ready. I ditch the robe. When I slip on the dress, I’m transformed. Silky wine-colored satin caresses my curves. I turn for the mirror and skim my hands over my hips. I feel like a goddess. I realize I’ve forgotten to ask Lena about borrowing a bra. I guess I’m going without.
When I’d thanked Reign for the dress this week, he’d given me a soft look and murmured, “my pleasure.”
I snap a quick photo and text it to Lena. I remember the teardrop-shaped crystal earrings and add those. I also tuck a tube of lipstick into my small clutch and slip on my heels. I’m ready.
Sort of.
I release a slow breath and head into the hall. Reign said we’d depart at six. It’s five minutes till. Five minutes that feel like an eternity as I stare blankly at myself in the mirror.
Reign is waiting for me in the foyer. From my perch above, I admire him in his black tuxedo and white shirt, black silk bowtie. His shoes are shiny, and he looks perfectly dapper and put together. He’s mouthwatering.
Nerves and a jumble of conflicting emotions make it difficult to descend the stairs under his watchful gaze. But somehow I manage without falling on my face.
I stop right in front of him.
“Tressa.Wow.”
His low voice makes my nipples tighten. Reign does not fail to notice—his gaze lowers and his jaw tightens.
“Ready?” I ask, somewhat breathless.
“If you are.” His voice is smooth as butter.
Mrs. Potts appears just then and insists on taking a few photos with her phone. Reign and I pose together, and, oh God, I feel like I’m on a prom date and Mrs. Potts is a nervous mother-figure—a role she wears well.
“You two have fun!” she calls, waving to us as Reign ushers me toward his sleek black sports car.
He opens the car door and helps me inside. I fight off a smile the entire time. This is already the best date I’ve ever been on, and we haven’t even left the driveway yet.
“All set?” he asks, climbing in beside me.
“Absolutely.”
Reign’s eyes dip down to my cleavage again and then he starts the car. The engine purrs to life and I buckle my seatbelt with shaking hands.
“So… tonight’s event,” I begin. It’s my attempt at making small talk. Luckily, Reign saves me, launching into a lengthy explanation.
“It’s put on every year by a wealthy socialite named James Taulman. His family owns a ranch outside of town, and a hotel chain nationwide. He only comes into town once or twice a year.”
“Sounds exciting.”
Reign smiles. “It isn’t. But don’t tell that to the people of this town. Gives them an excuse to dress up, gossip, and dance.”
“Perfect.” I chuckle.
“You look beautiful tonight, if I didn’t say so before.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
When we arrive, there’s a valet waiting to open my door and whisk Reign’s car away as we make our way inside.
My hand rests on Reign’s forearm as we navigate the steps. He moves slowly and deliberately, probably being mindful of my high heels, so I don’t trip and fall, which, believe me, I appreciate.
The gala is being held at a historic hotel in town. The ballroom is old-Hollywood glam with silver and black décor. Crystal centerpieces at each banquet table hold floating red-rose petals. A five-piece band plays classic jazz music and large sparkling chandeliers hang from the ceiling. It’s opulent.
Reign’s large palm resting against my lower back the entire time he leads me through the room is incredibly distracting.
