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Shit, how is this girl still alive?
If she was really my fiancée, there’s no damn way I’d let her sleep another night here. I’d pack her shit and march her right out the door to—
No. I stop that thought before it has a chance to crystalize.
She’s not my fiancée.
Her personal life is none of my business beyond the arrangement.
She’s just a girl I’ve lured into helping me undo my self-inflicted damage. Anassociate. A sweet little pretender I wanted to devour last night, consequences be damned.
Get it together, dickhead,a voice spits in the back of my head.
I reach for her door and knock.
A deadbolt clicks and she opens up, revealing a vision of an angel with her hair mussed, dressed down in shorts and a tank that exposes an inch of midriff.
Goddamn, she still looks incredible.
Red curls spill down her shoulders, her green eyes hazy with sleep. Those shorts show off legs I want thrown over my shoulders, hugging her every curve as she turns and gestures me in.
“Aren’t you early?” she says with a yawn. “I thought this thing wasn’t until noon?”
“It’s ten thirty,” I point out, walking in and setting my bag on her small kitchen counter.
When she sees it, her eyes narrow.
I try not to notice all the little things I shouldn’t notice. Like the way the material clings to her tits when she folds her arms or the way her top rides up, exposing more of her stomach.
Fuck me, what is this?
I’m behaving like some horndog who just found out he can do a lot more with his dick than piss out of it.
“What’s that?” she asks, a wary note in her voice.
“For expanding your wardrobe.”
“You bought me clothes?” She blinks at me.
I can’t help my smile as I look back at her.
“Unless you’d like to go without, Sweet Stuff. I might appreciate that, but my dear old mother wouldn’t.”
“Oh my God. You did not just say that.” A flush reddens her face as she snatches the bag. “These better not be hideous…”
I can’t promise anything, but as she lifts the dress out of the bag—a green-and-white silk maxi dress—she frowns. “It’s very… green.”
I gesture around her little conservatory squeezed into an apartment. The place is exploding with plant life I assume she can’t live without.
“I figured green suited you.”
“I mean, yeah.”
“So you don’t hate it?”
A shy, reluctant smile touches her face as she looks back up at me.
“I don’t,” she allows. “But how did you know my size?”
