“I don haf anyting ta wear.”
Cole kisses me on the head, “We’ll go shopping,” then moves to leave the room.
“Ey,” I call after him, out the side of my mouth because that’s all I can manage to move, but he’s already gone. I’ll have to hand it to him, Cole picked an opportune time to bring this up, one where I can’t speak for thirty minutes. Now all I can do is wait patiently until everything starts to crack.
31
Brooke
If I thought the white doctor coat was hot, Cole in a tux is downright lethal. He’s already dressed, and I’m lagging behind. I got distracted watching him shave, so I had to nix the fake eyelashes. Because, priorities. I’m pulling on my dress in Cole’s walk-in closet when he strides in and leans on the closet door frame. He glances at his watch.
“Do I need to fuck you before we go? Or will the two orgasms from this morning hold you over?” There’s a smug grin plastered on his face. “I’d hate to miss the entrée.”
Smug bastard.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You better watch what you say or you’re not going to get any action tonight.”
Cole chuckles, and I hate that I can’t even threaten to withhold sex because he knows that it would not just punish him, but me, too. Jerk.
He watches me step into my dress; his eyebrows raise in surprise.
“You’re not wearing any underwear?” Cole’s voice is husky, and I notice the way his lustful eyes follow the dress as the fabric moves over my ass and up my back.
Okay, maybe it’s not a surprise, but more like wariness at the idea that I’m going to be completely naked under my dress all night and he won’t be able to touch me. He thinks I’m the sex-crazed one, but I know he’s just as affected.
It’s strange how we’ve just entered this compatible living situation. I’ve rarely spent any time at my place. Only to pick up clothes, check my mail and water the plants. I even brought a few of them over to Cole’s because he doesn’t have any greenery and I can’t live anywhere that doesn’t have plants. Not that we’re living together, but proximity is a requirement for sex and foot rubs. And Cole is excellent at both.
I’m starting to wonder if things with Cole could work out even when I get pregnant with Ellie and Josh’s baby. He’s a gynecologist, he can’t be that adverse to pregnant women, he’s around them frequently. Not that it means he wants to date one, and have sex with one that isn’t pregnant with his child, but it’s a starting point, right?
I’ve thought about telling him multiple times. Just last night the words were on the tip of my tongue. We had just finished Chinese take-out when he refilled my glass of Bread & Butter rosé, my favorite kind, which he now has stocked in his wine fridge, then he brought up a newly recordedLove It or List Itfrom his DVR, pulled my feet into his lap and started massaging them. I was speechless. Literally no words. He told me I seemed stressed out lately and he wanted to help me relax. It would have been a perfect opening for the surrogacy conversation if I wasn’t blissed out by his thumbs finding all my pressure points. And later when Hilary knocked the remodel out of the park, but the owners were still convinced by David to list their home, I didn’t even care. I was too preoccupied with Cole sliding my panties down my legs, a mischievous grin on his lips. Just thinking about it makes my insides clench.
I know I’m being selfish. The past three weeks have been amazing with Cole, and I’m afraid he won’t want to be with me, almost as much as I’m afraid he will. What would that even look like? I haven’t ever been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few weeks before the lust settled and I moved on. With Cole, I don’t know how I could ever look at him and not want him. But I don’t even know if he feels the same way. I already know what it feels like to lose people I love. Not that I love Cole. That would be way too soon. I’ve only known him for two months and we’ve only been seeing each other half that time.
I don’t even know what I’m talking about. This whole thing has been confusing. One minute I’m convinced that I’m going to stop whatever it is we’re doing, the next I’m texting him a sexy pic or picking up his favorite pie from the diner.
Like he said he would, Cole took me dress shopping last Sunday. This was the first dress I tried on and I fell in love with it, but still proceeded to try on another ten dresses. Cole said he was happy to view all of them. It did need to be altered, the straps tightened and the hem raised slightly, but while the alterations lady sewed it, Cole violated me in the private dressing room under the pretense that he was trying on pants, and therefore needed to take his off. It was a women’s dress shop. So, yeah.
I slide the dress straps over my shoulders, gather my hair to one side, then turn for Cole to zip me up. Did I mention my dress is gorgeous? And wearing it makes me feel like a princess? Not a Disney one with a puffy tutu dress, but more like Grace Kelly, one that is elegant and sophisticated. From my breasts to just past my butt it’s tight against my body, showing all the curves of my hips and butt, hence the lack of underwear, then fans out at mid-thigh. It’s off-white, which I was unsure about at first, but the saleslady convinced me it looked amazing with my dark hair.
Sam came over earlier, under the pretense that she was going to help me do my hair and makeup, but we both know she lives in ponytails and Chapstick and only wanted to meet Cole and see my dress. With no help from Sam, I styled my hair in waves, and swept it to the side to give myself an old Hollywood glam look. I don’t look like me. I look like the girlfriend of a doctor going to a hospital gala. How did this happen? It’s my vagina’s fault. Guys get a bad rap for making decisions with their dicks, but really my slutty vagina has been the root cause of this whole thing.
Cole moves into position behind me. We’re now facing the full-length mirror that’s hanging between two sections of built-in drawers. The sight of Cole in his black tux and bowtie standing behind me in my off-white dress is overwhelming. Until this moment I hadn’t considered how we would look together. Cole in a tux and me in an off-white gown. Like bride and groom. With that thought, I feel my chest tighten. Or maybe that’s just the dress material constricting my boobs.
“Did your boobs get bigger?” Coles asks as he works to pull the zipper past my upper-back. “They look amazing in this dress.”
“Ha! I wish.” I attempt to suck in, but the area that he’s struggling with isn’t really suck-in-able. Shoulder shrugs are my attempt at helping him pull the material together. It does feel tighter in the chest than it did a week ago, but it may have changed with alterations and I’m just now noticing it. Finally, he closes it.
“Your breasts are fucking perfect.” Cole palms me over my dress, then presses a kiss to the back of my neck. The soft press of his lips sends the most delicious shiver down my spine. I’m immediately regretting the fact that this dress doesn’t have easy access. Sex right now would be the perfect distraction for my overactive brain. Cole takes a step back, clearly indicating that he doesn’t plan to undo his handiwork and we should get going.
I do one last scan of myself in the mirror, smoothing out the material over my stomach. When I look up, my gaze locks with Cole’s in the glass. His appreciative grin tells me he likes what he sees, but there’s something else in his eyes that stops me in my tracks. I’m afraid to put a name to it. What acknowledging it could mean. Everything I had planned to avoid, feelings and attachment, I see in his eyes. And it makes me wonder, what does he see in mine?
He breaks eyes contact to grab his phone out of his pocket.
“The uber’s here.”
* * *
The gala is taking place in the Grand Ballroom at the historic Brown Palace Hotel downtown. The hotel is known for its Afternoon Tea which is served every day from noon to four in the hotel atrium with grand piano accompaniment. It’s a frivolous affair that my mom brought Ellie and me to a few times when we were kids. Getting dressed up like we were princesses going to have tea with the queen. The same atrium is decorated to the nines for the holiday season with tourists and locals alike stopping in just to take a look. The hotel has several restaurants including Ellyngton’s, where I’ve accompanied Sue before to meet with a client. For all the times I’ve been here for one reason or another, I’ve never been to the Grand Ballroom. Everything about the Brown Palace is regal, and richly decorated. From the gold chandeliers hanging from the coffered ceiling to the ornate crown molding and rich velvet curtains. The vibrant colors of the plush carpet are laid out in an intricate circular design that is entirely custom. The architecture is vintage and the upkeep is flawless. There’s no need for additional decorations at the gala. Everything speaks for itself. Anything added to the work of art we’re surrounded by would just look like gaudy prom décor.
