Dropping to my knees on the carpet, I pick one up and wrestle to get through the thick plastic of the poly mailer. “So the other day I started thinking about the fact that I’ve never really tried to, you know, wear dresses and makeup and things like that. And it’s not because I don’t want to, it’s just I don’t really know where to start.”
Finally, I pop a hole in the plastic and rip it open, then pull out the satin dress inside. It’s… pink. Which is obviously not a color I wear often, but I think I kind of love this shade? I unfold the dress and hold it up for Cillian to see. “I followed this girl online who’s a fashion influencer and well, then that sent me down a rabbit hole and per usual I hyperfixated and, long story short, I’ve decided to try out a new wardrobe. Kind of. This is one of them. What do you think? Is it ugly? This is stupid, isn’t it? I knew it pro—”
“Rory.” His voice is rough, raspy, and low as he cuts me off. “It’s not ugly. Or stupid. Put it on.”
My brow furrows. “Really?”
He nods.
I rise from the floor and head to my bedroom, quickly removing my clothes and slipping into the soft pink dress. Once it’s on, I run to the mirror in the corner of my room, and when I see my reflection, my jaw drops.
Holy shit.
The soft material hugs the dip of my waist, the swell of my breasts, the curve of my thighs, all the places that I never seem to pay much attention to since I’m always in a baggy hoodie or my workout clothes.
But in this?
They’re impossible to ignore, and as much as I thought I probably wouldn’t like wearing a dress, let alone a pink one, I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and try something new.
And I’m actually glad I did.
I exhale shakily, running my palms down the front of the dress as I take one last glance at my reflection before I walk back to the living room to face Cillian.
His gaze lifts when I walk in the room, and his dark eyes widen briefly, his lips parting.
It’s almost as if something…flaresin the depths. I’m not entirely sure, and I can’t read his expression, but I think he doesn’t hate it.
In an attempt to dislodge the nervous lump in my throat, I clear it and spin in a circle with my hands out. “What do you think?”
“Bloody hell, St. James.” His voice is a husky whisper.
“Is that a good ‘bloody hell’ or a bad one because I honestly can’t tell the difference sometimes.” I laugh, but the nervoussound dies on my tongue when his gaze lazily glides down my body.
As if he’s drinking me in, every single inch, slowly, one at a time.
And suddenly I feel as if I’m standing completely naked in front of him even though I’m fully clothed.
There’s a silent, torturously slow pause before he says, “A good one.”
I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was anticipating, butthiswas not it, and it makes me feel… good.
I decide I like thathe’smaking me feel that way. A lot.
“Okay… good,” I respond.
His lips curve. “Great.”
“So does that mean I should try on the others?” I ask as I lean down and scoop up a handful of the packages.
He makes another slow perusal before nodding and raking a hand through his dark hair. I watch his throat bob with a rough swallow.
For some strange reason, my heart is thrashing in my chest. Maybe it’s the attention from Cillian, or maybe it’s something… different.
Something new that I’ve never felt before.
“Okay. Uh, I’ll be right back,” I say, giving him a small smile as I sprint from the living room. That was… interesting. Maybe I’m just being weird, but it feels like my brain is moving at the speed of light, and by the time I get to my bedroom and shut the door, slamming my back against it, I’m almost breathless. My head falls back against the wood with a loud thump at the same time a rushed exhale bursts out of me.
It takes a few seconds for me to calm my racing pulse and shallow bursts of my breathing, but then I move to my bed and set the rest of the packages on top. My fingertips slip beneath the hem of the dress I’m wearing and tug it over my head, tossing it to the side.