Page 39 of Better Daddy
“What does that mean?” I ask.
She leans against the doorframe and smirks. Today, rather than wearing layers and layers of flowy fabric, she’s dressed in a one-piece…uh, unitard? I think that’s the appropriate term for the skintight pink-and-white-striped garment.
“Oh, Sullivan.” Her violet eyes dance. “I think you know exactly what that means.”
Do I?I blink, rehashing my idea. Which parts did I say out loud? Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t verbalize the party-crashing option.Does that mean she can read my thoughts?No. That’s absurd.
She gives me a nod, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Lungs seizing, I step back. Bloody hell. Maybe she can hear the inner workings of my brain.
But Madame E shifts her attention to Lo. “Don’t just sit there gaping at me. You and Callahan are accompanying me to yoga. Get moving.”
“We are?” Lo asks, standing from her desk.
“Spit-spot,” she commands.
Without hesitation, Lo hurries out of the room.
Madame E follows, calling to me over her shoulder. “Into your hands, Sullivan. Into your hands.”
There’s no stopping my smile. Yeah, I’m going to crash a party. How very unlike me.
Chapter 15
Sloane
Iam feeling myself right now.
My hair is having a day, and this dress? Damn, this dress makes my boobs look incredible. I sway my hips to the beat of the Def Leppard song and turn my brush into a microphone. As the chorus ramps up, I sing along to the lyrics about sugar and sex.
Two of my favorite things.
God, I haven’t had sex in so long.
Just as I arch back, hitting a high note, the curtain swishes, and I spot Sully in the mirror, watching me with an amused smirk on his face.
Cheeks burning, I straighten and silence the music.
“I always loved sneaking in and catching you doing this while you got ready.” His tone is warm, soft even. Like he’s talking to himself.
I bite my cheek. “Haven’t done it in a while.”
He moves his arm, pulling the curtain back another inch. “May I?”
“Oh, yes. Welcome to Sloane’s,” I tease, holding one arm out as if showcasing the oversized stall.
I planned to get ready at the penthouse, and I still plan to stay inthe city overnight, but then T.J. had a meltdown about not seeing me, so I promised I’d get ready here.
Sully slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and surveys the new décor. “Like what you did with the place.”
In addition to my Paris curtain, I moved Cal’s ficus in and put up a neon sign that saysMy Happy Place. It’s pink, though it provides the right amount of additional light for doing makeup.
“Thanks.” Nodding, I turn back to the sink and toss my makeup back into its pouch.
At the sound of shoes on the tile floor, I snap up straight and meet Sully’s eye in the mirror. He stands so close now that his warmth engulfs me, but he’s far enough away that we’re not touching. His blue eyes blaze as he takes me in, like he’s familiarizing himself with every curve all over again.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, like he’s once again speaking to himself.
