Page 216 of When a Soul Cries

She paused at the top of the staircase, one hand resting lightly against the railing as she looked down at me. Her hair had been pulled into a neat messy bun, with soft curls deliberately left loose around her face. Her skin was bare except for lashes and gloss.

No heavy makeup.

She didn’t need any.

Then my eyes moved lower.

Fuck.

The black dress hugged everything.

Her waist looked tiny against the curve of her hips, and the fabric followed her thick thighs before the slit exposed one smooth leg every time she took another step. The dress molded around her ass in a way that had my jaw tightening before she even made it halfway down.

I shifted my stance, suddenly grateful my suit jacket fell low enough to hide some of the problem happening beneath my belt.

Sol caught me staring.

Her steps slowed, and uncertainty flickered across her face.

“What?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

She glanced down at herself before looking back at me, one hand briefly smoothing the fabric at her hip.

“Rome, what?”

I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip.

“You serious?”

Her brows lifted. “About what?”

“You coming downstairs looking like that.”

A nervous little laugh escaped her. “You picked the dress.”

“I picked a dress,” I corrected, watching her take the final few steps. “I didn’t know it was gonna do all that.”

Color immediately warmed her cheeks, and her gaze dropped toward the floor.

That shy shit wasn’t helping me.

At all.

When she reached the last step, I moved closer. Her perfume hit me before I could stop myself from breathing it in.

Soft. Sweet.

My eyes dropped to her glossy mouth.

Fuck me.

I forced my gaze back to hers.

“You look beautiful.”

Her expression softened, and some of the nervousness disappeared from her shoulders.