Page 27 of Filthy Sweet

I accept it, swallow my hesitations, and then clink Fox’s glass. “Why the hell not,” I answer with a laugh, then throw back the sweet, bubbly champagne, which tickles my nose.

Fox chuckles and strolls over to the rack. “Maybe start with a casual suit.” He pulls one out, a pale green color. “I guessed your size without a plastic ruler. But whatever you get, they’ll tailor it anyway.”

“Cool.” I take the suit. “Um, tell me about this party.”

Fox nods to the dressing area, then sits on the arm of a loveseat, which has an ornate floral pattern. “The host is having a midlife crisis. I’m expecting some aged rock stars and younger models, a little dancing.” He shrugs. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Right.” I step behind the curtain, then stick my head out. “Is this a party you would ordinarily go to?”

“Only if I were working an angle,” he answers, “but I think we’ll have fun.” Fox offers me a smile. “Come on. I want to see you in that suit.”

I step behind the curtain. It fully blocks me from his view, but I still feel vulnerable undressing while I’m talking to him.

Although he has already seen me in a pair of panties.

“Working an angle?” I manage, then shuck off my jeans and turn quickly to the suit. “Like, for business?”

“It’s a fuzzy line sometimes.”

I pull the pants on, and my mind flashes back to the photo of Fox in the newspaper. Instead of getting hung up on it though, I tug on the rest of the suit, straighten it, and step back out.

“What do you think?” I ask, but the wolfish grin that fills Fox’s face answers the question. He fixes his slate eyes on me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more attractive.

My reflection repeats in the mirrors. The fabric is gorgeously soft, maybe some kind of linen, and I feel myself shifting in its embrace, my posture straightening.

“I think you look fucking great,” Fox says. “Like you own the room.”

My cheeks warm. “Yeah?”

He stands, still eyeing me. “Yeah.” He walks over to the clothing rack. “Definitely consider that suit.” He grabs another garment, offering it to me. “Want to try something for nightlife?”

I could stare at myself in this suit all day, but I nod. “Sure. Whatever you think.” As I walk back to the curtain, I ask another question over my shoulder. “Are you going to be working an angle at the party?”

“Just to be seen with you,” Fox answers smoothly.

I look down at the garment in my hand and a quiver crawls across my skin. It’s a pale white shirt with fabric so sheer, you can practically see right through it, and there’s a little pair of shorts tucked under it. I tell myself it’s no big deal, but when I wrestle the shirt on, I look down and can actually see my nipples. And the shorts, once I tug them up, squeeze my butt and my thighs in a way that feels incredibly revealing.

With a deep breath, I step back out into the lounge area. “I don’t know about—”

“Damn,” Fox interrupts me. His eyes burn my skin. “Perfect fit, too.”

I look at myself in the mirror, my slender body on display, hugged by the revealing fabric. “Yeah,” I manage. “It does fit pretty good, huh?”

Fox steps over to me, and my pulse quickens. I’m already half-hard, and I start to panic that it will be obvious in these tight shorts.

He reaches out, then gently fixes the back of the shirt, where the round collar is folded over and bunched at my neck. “Maybe not for the party tomorrow, but definitely for the club.”

Fuck, it feels nice to have his attention so focused on me. Sure, I feel totally exposed, and all my insides are wobbly, but that’s part of what’s so good.

“I’ve never really dressed like this,” I confess. “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable out in public.” I glance up and down his suit. “I can’t imagine you wear sheer shirts.”

Fox chuckles. “I used to. It’s definitely helpful if you’re trying to get laid.”

I bite down my bottom lip, shy and titillated, torn between wanting to confess the silly crush beating in my heart and the urge to run away.

I glance at my butt in the mirror, which honestly has never looked so good.

Do I have a bubble butt?

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