Being Me(Inside Out 02)(65)
I stare after him for several seconds, wondering if doing the opposite of what he expects is a good or a bad thing. But the truth is, I don’t try to be someone else with Chris, as I have with other men in my life. I’m rediscovering myself, or perhaps finding myself for the first time ever.
With an inner shake, I spur myself into action, sliding on my black thigh-highs, black high heels, and finally, the emerald green dress. No bra. No panties. Already, the rubies are teasing me unmercifully just as Chris had with his mouth and fingers. I inspect my reflection in the mirror, loving the dress even more than I did in the store. The vibrant green complements my pale skin, and the dress hugs my body without being overtly sexy. And thankfully the fitted bodice provides enough coverage to hide the ruby-covered rings on my nipples.
Reaching for the bathroom door, I pause a moment as adrenaline pours through me at the idea of Chris waiting beyond.
I step into the bedroom to find Chris leaning against the front door, one leg crossed over the other, his arms over his chest. He watches me expectantly, silently willing me to walk to him, and I am powerless to defy him, aroused by nothing more than the way he consumes the room, and me, with it. He tracks my every step, touching me without touching me, seducing me with the promise of the pleasure he’s proven that he, and he alone, can give me.
I stop in front of him and still he doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for me. “Turn around.”
Doing as he says is automatic. He’s right. I crave these moments where he’s in control and anticipation simmers low in my belly to discover what he intends next. With him I can let go, when I don’t dare do so elsewhere or with anyone else.
A cool sensation slides around my neck and I become aware of the necklace he’s hooking at my nape. Surprised, my hand goes to the jewel at my throat, and he leans down and whispers.
“Go look in the mirror.”
Curious, I rush to the bathroom to stare into the mirror at the round emerald pendant with diamonds glistening like stars around the edges, where it dips into the V of my neckline. Chris appears behind me, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror, and the connection delivers the now-familiar punch of awareness he creates in me that never gets old. There is a stark hunger in his expression that runs far deeper than the ripe physical need
between us. This gift matters to him. It’s special, nothing like the tokens my father gave to my mother, and my liking it is important to him.
“It couldn’t be more perfect,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
His hand splays possessively on my stomach, and he buries his face in my hair, his mouth pressing to my ear. “You’re perfect.” His voice is rough.
Everything Chris does is as raw and real as the pain he struggles to bury in some deep, dark cavern of his soul. And I dread the moment he discovers just how not perfect I am.
Chapter Twenty
After leaving our hotel room, Chris and I step into the packed
elevator. Chris leans against the wall, settling me under the
crook of his arm, and his touch is like a hot, welcome branding
too intimate for the public setting. The rubies dangle between
my legs, a teasing friction against my clit that, while not painful, is inescapable—as is the thick ridge of Chris’s arousal against my backside. Chris nuzzles my neck, and I shiver. I can almost taste his pleasure at my reaction, and his hands travel up and
down my rib cage, tugging the silk of my dress and the jewels
on my nipples. My hands go to his, holding them steady in a
silent reprimand, and his soft, sexy rumble of laughter touches
my ear.
My lips curve at his playfulness, and the contrast of this moment to another occasion when I wore no bra and panties, at the
winery, strikes me. I’d scolded myself for daring to see romance
in what was a sexy adventure. Even meeting his godparents that
warm August night still left me wondering where Chris and I
were headed. I could easily spin doubts and get tangled up in all
that could go wrong tonight if I let myself. The list of worries is long. Chris’s return to Paris. My impending career decisions. My secret. My gut clenches and the elevator opens.
I step off the car and mentally leave my concerns inside. Tonight Chris needs me to be clear and present. My Dark Prince
is teetering on the edge of darkness over Dylan, and I have to be
the rope he clings to for a lifeline.
Once in the corridor, Chris twines his fingers with mine,
and this small, intimate act makes my heart squeeze, warming me
far more than the gentle sway of the jewels between my thighs
while I walk. I cut him a sideways glance to find him doing the
same to me, and it is as if I’m experiencing a summer breeze. He