Page 25 of Fragile Twisted Vows
I sigh and rub my face with my hands. Just then, I hear the door of a dressing room open.
“Hey, Bruno, can you help me zip…” Lucy stops as she spots me and my eyes lock onto her.
She looks….well. She looks fucking incredible actually and I hate that.
Her hair, now partially blond and a bit shorter is curled with a fresh blowout, the ends falling just at her breasts which are practically smashed up to her chin in the tight, short, light blue leather dress she has on. Her makeup is both light and seductive, illuminating the catlike slopes of her blue eyes and plump, pinkness of her full lips. Her legs go on for miles and my eyes travel the paths until they land on the strappy, nude heels she has on her feet.
“This,” she whispers as she takes me in.
I don’t know why, but her eyes look wanton when she gazes at me.
Which only flares that fucking feeling that’s blooming in my groin even more.
Jesus, not now. Not here. Not her.
“Get back in that fucking room,” I growl as I stalk and haul her into the small dressing room and slam the door behind us.
She’s so close to me now and the vanilla scent of her freshly groomed hair drives me mad. She looks annoyed with me, which only hardens my cock more.
“Can you ever close a door normally, just once?” she groans.
I swallow tightly, my eyes narrowed as I try to force them to her pretty face and not down to her breasts which are pushed up so high in that tight, blue, little-
“I’ll have Anita ring everything you’ve set aside. Put something on. Just not…that,” I growl as I allow my gaze to travel down her large chest and shapely hips before my eyes snap back up to hers again.
She tilts her head and bites down on her bottom lip as a finger finds one of those freshly styled curls and twirls it.
Fuck…me.
“What? You don’t like it?” she asks in a small voice as she sways her shapely body slightly.
And it pisses me off. Because I don’t have time for this right now.
I shove her back against the dressing room wall, the mirror shaking as my hand finds her pale throat and wraps around it. Her eyes widen and her pulse quickens.
It’s intoxicating. Because for a moment, she looks excited beneath her shock.
“Enough. This isn’t a fucking game, Lucille,” I hiss as her cheeks redden and her dark brows knit together in a frown.
Her little nose scrunches and the freckles beneath her makeup move with it. I hate that I want to lick that small, innocent spot. I hate every sudden bit of desire this woman has given me.
“Now put some clothes on and meet me outside. We have a lunch meeting to make. You have three minutes,” I hiss as I shove her back and move away from her.
“Fine!” she spits out as she throws one of those strappy sandals at me.
Which misses because I slam the dressing room door right in her pretty face as my other hand moves down to my zipper to try and hide the stupid fucking erection she’s given me.
God. Damn. It.
nine
Lucy
“What the fuck is this?” I hiss over a glass of Chianti in one of Manhattan’s finest restaurants.
After the heated exchange with Damien in the dressing room, I forced myself into a cap sleeved, knee length, plum bodycon dress with black heels and met up with him at the front counter as he was handing the cashier his Amex.
“Modest enough?” I sneered and he looked me up and down, slowly, with approving eyes.
