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Licking her lips, she nods, then slides each dress across the rail one by one, carefully inspecting each of them. “What kind of dress code is it?”
“Fine dining, so dinner attire.”
“What does that mean?”
“Normally, a nice dress and heels for a woman, and a dress shirt, slacks, and a jacket for a man.”
“Do you have those things?”
“I do.”
“Okay,” she says quietly but doesn’t say more before she walks to her bag and squats to unzip it. After some digging around, she pulls out a small bag, the green bottle she used for her hair last night, and a round brush. She takes everything to the bathroom with her but doesn’t shut the door. A few seconds later, I hear the blow dryer start.
Thirty minutes later, if not longer, I hear the dryer cut off and set my laptop aside. I get off the bed and walk into the bathroom.
Her hair is dry, not a curl in sight. It looks beautiful like it is now, but I instantly miss her wild curls. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and follow me as I walk up behind her and capture her waist in my hands. Her cheeks are flushed, probably from the heat of the blow dryer and whatever she did to straighten her hair. My dick starts to harden, imagining her looking the same way last night when I had my hands on her. Something I missed out on seeing with the lights off.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Are you going to shower?”
“I am, but I can wait until you’re done.” The urge to move her hair and kiss her neck is excruciating to deny. Never in my life have I felt the desire to show someone physical affection, but the urge to touch her and have her close is a constant itch under my skin. In the beginning, I chalked it up to my attraction to her, but it’s something more, something bigger than just me wanting her.
“I’ll finish getting ready in the bedroom.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Moving my hand up, I capture her jaw. Once her face is tilted back toward mine, I press my lips against hers, and she sighs like she’s been waiting for me to kiss her all day. When I pull back, I let my eyes wander over her face for a long moment.
I didn’t lie earlier. Every feature of hers is etched into my brain. But there are still tiny details I find that I missed before, like the freckle under her eye that is in the shape of a heart and one on the edge of her lip.
Giving her hip a squeeze, I press my lips to hers one more time, then let her go and step over to the shower while she picks up the bag she brought in here and walks out.
When I get out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hips after half-ass drying my hair with it before leaving the bathroom. Not seeing Elora in the bedroom, I go to my bag, grab a pair of boxers, and put them on, then drag out my suit bag and take out my pants. As I’m putting them on, I hear Elora mumbling from the living room and wonder who she’s talking to. I walk across the bedroom to the open door and stop, my heart suddenly feeling awkward inside my chest.
The dark-green, slim-strapped, body-hugging dress she chose from the rack fits her perfectly and ends mid-calf, with a slit up the side exposing a good amount of thigh. The color looks stunning on her, and with her hair still mostly down except for one side that she pulled back with a clip and her makeup light but still more than I’ve ever seen her wear, she looks breathtaking.
Leaning against the doorjamb, I watch her walk across the carpet in heels that make her wobble slightly. Her head lifts when I laugh after hearing her curse under her breath.
“I haven’t worn heels since my prom, and that was a hundred years ago,” she tells me, and I smile.
“You look beautiful.” I let my eyes slowly wander over her, and she smooths her hands down her sides.
“It’s not too much?”
“Not even a little.”
“You might have to carry me around. I’m not sure I’m going to master walking in these shoes before it’s time to leave.”
“I’ll carry you wherever you need to go.”
“That’s going to make our entrance into the restaurant for dinner really awkward.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I tell her quietly, watching her teeth dig into her bottom lip. I push off the doorframe and walk toward her, seeing her pupils dilate the closer I get.
“Don’t you need to finish getting dressed?” she asks softly when I reach for her and pull her close.
