Page 11 of Seducing Cinderella

He gave her a slow once-over and couldn’t see how it could be considered even remotely immodest. In fact, he was almost disappointed in it. Though the thin material of the dress complemented her body the way a sexy nightgown would, the front of it covered her all the way up to her collarbones and didn’t show any skin until it ended at midthigh.

“That’s not immodest, sweetheart,” he said as he leaned back against the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s called dull.”

“Oh really?” Pivoting on the strappy black heels, she gave him her back…and he forgot to breathe.

Where the front of her dress had lacked, the back of it more than compensated. Her entire back was open with the exception of a single spaghetti strap that ran across her shoulder blades connecting the two sides of her dress. The material followed the lines of her back with the right side sweeping over her lower back to gather just above the back of her left hip. “Christ.”

“Like I said…” She walked over to the three-way mirror and let her hands fall at her sides.

Reid moved to stand behind her. His fingers itched to trace the dip of her spine. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d react during the day, where people could see them, and without the benefit of wine. Would she pull away in shock and embarrassment? Or would she shiver and arch into his touch?

When he realized he was in serious danger of sporting wood despite his convictions from the previous night, he put his sexual thoughts in a mental guillotine hold, hoping to choke the life out of them before they ruined the dry spell he needed to continue where Lucie was concerned.Knock it off, jackass.

“You’re not exactly giving anyone a T&A peekaboo show, Luce.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Whether you choose to believe it or not, this dress is sexy and classy.” His gaze dropped from hers in the mirror to study the part of her that was open for the world to see. “The back is one of my favorite parts of a woman’s body. I love to trace and lick the shallow line of her spine, from the top and all the way down to the twin dimples at the base of her lower back.” Reid just barely stopped himself from adding that he also loved to watch the movement of his lover’s shoulder blades when he placed her hands above her head to take her from behind.

He looked up to find her eyes narrowed and scrutinizing him. “My point is, Lucie, a woman’s back is graceful. Not shameful.” When all she did was give him a noncommittaluh-huhhe cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. “What?”

She shook her head slightly as though she wasn’t sure what to make of him. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?”

He grinned and raised a brow. “I’m not a Transformer, if that’s what you mean.”

That at least brought out a light chuckle as she turned to face him. “No, I mean, you’re not just a fighter. You see things differently than most people. There’s a very artistic side to you.”

No one had ever said that to him before. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d done anything but fight. Not that he didn’t love his sport, but sometimes he wished it wasn’t all he was. He shrugged. “I was once, I guess. My senior year of high school I tried taking shop class, but a glitch in the system put me in an art class instead. I couldn’t paint worth a damn, but I learned how to sketch and draw fairly well. And then we got to the sculpting…” Reid tensed as his father’s disapproval came flooding back to him. It was hard for him to think about sculpting at all anymore without the memories of his father trashing all of his supplies and the makeshift studio he’d made for himself.

“Reid?” Brought out of his thoughts, his eyes flicked up. “What about the sculpting?”

“Never mind. It’s not important.” Turning around, he was about to call the assistant back to help gather the outfits, but Lucie grabbed his hand to stop him, placing herself square in his line of sight again.

“Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes, it’s important to you. Please tell me.”

Her words, combined with her fingers pressing into the center of his palm, were like an infusion of mental cortisone. It wouldn’t fix the problem, but it numbed the pain just enough to get the job done. Taking a deep breath, he told her what he’d only ever told Jax. “I enjoyed sculpting. I liked that I could create with the same hands I used to destroy my opponents in the cage. You’re right. I do see things differently. I don’t just see an apple, but I see the individual curves and lines that make up that apple, including the bruise on one side that makes a flat spot roughly the size of a thumbprint.

“But people don’t want to know that about me. They want to know what I’m doing to cut weight, what new routines my trainers are putting me through, and whether I think I’ll come away with my hand raised in my next fight. It’s what I’m good at. It’s who I am.”

“You’re wrong, though,” she said, taking a small step forward. “Who you are isn’t just one thing. It’s everything you’re passionate about. You can be a sculptor, Reid, and still be a fighter if that’s what you want.”

The tenderness in her conviction made him want to hold her in his arms and kiss that heart-shaped freckle at the corner of her soft gray eyes. Eyes that saw remarkably through his bullshit and glimpsed his soul.

“You know what I want? I want to eat.” He caught the attention of their sales lady with a wave of his arm. “Help her with the tags on this one, please. She’s wearing it out of the store. Then we’ll take everything else she tried on. Thanks.”

When he handed over his credit card, Lucie pinned him with a glare. He was glad she wore her contacts today. She looked all hot-librarian in her glasses, but he preferred this unobstructed view of her expressive dove-gray eyes. Even if their current expression said she was clearly pissed off.

“Now what’s wrong?”

She crossed her arms under her breasts and lifted her chin. “I might not be a big-time UFC celebrity, but I’m far from indigent. I’ll pay for my own clothes.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t even in the bunch. Reid wasn’t used to women who insisted on paying for themselves when they were with him. He had more money than he knew what to do with from his fights and product endorsements. That she even wanted to buy the clothesheinsisted she get in the first place spoke volumes of her character.

“Luce,” he said, pulling her arms down so he could hold her hands, effectively breaking the body language that would remind her of her anger. “I know you can buy your own clothes. You’re a successful, strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone to take care of her.”

The fire in her eyes fizzled a little as he worked to break through her guard. “That’s right, I don’t.”

“However, the new wardrobe was my idea, so I’m going to buy you the clothes, and then I’m taking you out to dinner.” She was just about to argue—it seemed to be the woman’s favorite past time, for chrissakes—so he placed a finger on her lips and said, “No arguments. I’m going to head over to the men’s store and get something more appropriate than these cargo shorts and polo. And grab some ibuprofen for this damn shoulder. Wait here and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

---