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“Just a nap… I can’t meet the president all flushed and with a post-sex glow,” I warn him, even though I can guarantee that the two of us will not be very well behaved once we hit that bedroom.
“Fine, nap only. But naked,” he says seriously, like he is negotiating a work deal.
“Deal,” I say, holding out my hand to shake.
“Nap time starts now.” Before I can even blink, he’s throwing me over his shoulder.
“Tanner!” I squeal at the unexpectedness, laughing as he slaps my ass and struts straight to the bedroom, kicking the door closed.
We both know the deal is off.
I takea nervous breath in as I look at myself. I am sparkling. There is no other word for it, and I know when Tanner sees me, he is going to love it.
“The dress is perfect on you,” the stylist says as she pulls the last zipper, and her team takes all the bags away.
“Thank you so much, I really appreciate all your help. I can’t believe he picked this one,” I say to her, smiling, wondering how he is going to get through the formal dinner tonight with me dressed like this.
“Oh, he didn’t. This is a new one that just came into our showroom today, and I brought it with me on awhim. But I think he will like it,” she says, giving me a wink before walking away out the door, leaving me with my own reflection.
I swallow, looking at myself again. I used to wear heels and makeup every day for work, but never like this. I am glammed up.
If the nerves about being on Tanner’s arm in front of everyone would dissipate, that would be good. If I am honest, I am looking forward to it. It has given me something else to think about other than what I’ve been through lately. I close my eyes and take another breath, pushing those thoughts aside before I grab my clutch and walk out to the living room.
I spot Tanner in the kitchen, pouring himself a whiskey, and I pause to watch him while he is oblivious. He is in a tuxedo, and I thought I would be ready for it, but I am not. He is without a doubt one of the best-looking men I have ever seen. He’s dapper, mysterious, distinguished, and butterflies start to swirl at seeing us both dressed up like this.
He glances at his Rolex, and I break out of my stare. I don’t want to make us late.
As I walk toward him, he looks up, his eyes widening as he almost chokes on the liquor in his mouth.
My lips are glossy and red, the focus point of my face with the rest of my makeup minimal. My hair is in soft waves floating down my back. But it is this dress that has his jaw dropping.
“Are you speechless?” I tease, enjoying this reaction from him.
“Just about.” His eyes remain glued as I get closer. “You look delectable, baby girl.”
I hum as I give a little twirl, then stand before him and watch as his gaze falls down my body and back up again. This dress is long, grazing the floor, but fitted to my curves. The top is strapless, showcasing my shoulders, and forms perfectly around my breasts. But it is the material that has him growling. Black lace, thick enough to cover the important areas, but see-through at my legs.
“This dress is amazing. It almost looks like you don’t have any underwear on underneath it.” He groans, jaw clenching as his hands finds my hips. I look up into his eyes and smile.
“That is because I am not wearing any.” I hold up the pair of black lace panties and put them in his palm.
“Fuck.” He looks like he is about to faint as his grip on me tightens, and I laugh seeing him like this. It’s endearing and also the biggest turn-on.
“We need to go. If we wait a moment longer, then we won’t be leaving at all,” he grumbles, throwing back the rest of his whiskey before he kisses me, the taste of him and his signature batch now tainting my lips.
“Are you ready?” he asks, looking deep into my eyes.
“I’m ready,” I say with a nod as we walk out the door.
39
TANNER
Iwatch her from where I stand at the bar across the room. She is talking animatedly with Huxley’s wife, Lucy, Valerie Van Cleef, and Beth, The First Lady. All four women have broad smiles, acting like they have known each other for years and are hatching a plan.
“So you hard-launched your relationship with the neighbor, then?” Huxley asks me, passing me a glass of whiskey, which better be my own; otherwise, he will wear it.
“Hard-launched?” I ask, taking a sip, tasting last year’s whiskey release. Smiling, I feel the smoothness of my hard work glide down my throat.
