Page 204 of Too Good to Be True

In other words, I’d saved the best for last.

Walking into the sitting room at six forty-seven that night, I came out wearing a black evening gown with mesh panels at the sides and all of the racer back, except along the zipper. It had a cut at the neckline, a slit up the side, fit my upper body like a dream, and fell in graceful folds to the floor with a small train at the back.

Ian, wearing an impeccably cut three-piece black suit and white shirt opened at the collar, took one look at me and whispered in a silken voice I heard across two rooms, “I’ll never tire of you.”

I stopped and swished my hips, replying, “Well, thank you, milord.”

“The paparazzi won’t be a problem. But they will feed on you. You’re dazzling.”

I stopped swishing and stood stock-still.

He held a hand out to me. “I’ll fuck you in that dress later and enjoy thinking about it all night. Now come here, we’re already late.”

Mutely, still overwhelmed by what he said, I went there and took his hand.

When he had purchase of it, he reached for the other and twisted it gently so he could see my outer forearm.

The bruise (one of many, but the only one visible in that dress) where I’d slammed my arm on the doorjamb had risen in brownish-purple relief.

I then watched with absolute fascination as he raised that bruise to his lips and touched them there tenderly.

And yes. After that, I fell for him even further.

Finally, arm in arm, of course, like we were strolling the Serpentine, he led me down to the Wine Room.

Ian stood by the bed, his suit still on, only his trousers open, and he fucked me while I lay on my back, fully clothed.

Yes, he’d tossed my skirt up.

I watched the savagery of his expression, felt it driving into my body, and I came for him with just that.

While I did, I heard my dress tear as he wrenched it at the bodice before he tugged my nipple.

I cried out and came harder.

When I came down, I watched with captivation and awe as he worked for, then found his.

He bent over me when it left him.

He kissed me tenderly and then promised, “I’ll have your dress mended.”

“I’m never wearing it again, but I’m keeping it, and I want it to stay torn as a memory of just how awesome that was.”

His eyes heated, and he kissed me again, but not tenderly.

I stroked his cheek when he finished and whispered, “You’re dazzling too, you know.”

Ian smiled at me.

I slept but did not dream.

Even so, I opened my eyes, and I knew why.

I looked to the time on the tablet.

It was three oh three.

I slid away from Ian, and in the moonlight, walked through his bedroom, his bathroom, to his closet.

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