Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Might as well get it over with.
I slipped into it, knowing already that this was going to be the dress I needed help with. The back did some strange zigzag thing with a thin, shiny string; otherwise, my back was bare. I pulled it on and looked at it, holding it up so that it wouldn’t fall. It hit at my ankles, and the slit was higher than any of the others. It was off the shoulders and gathered in the waist. The entire look of it reminded me of something a celebrity would wear on the red carpet.
He was going to want to see me in silver. This was the only silver dress. I opened the door, holding the dress up.
“I need help,” I told him, stepping back inside.
Saxon came in behind me, and I looked at him through the mirror with my back to him. He closed the door and looked at my back.
“It’s complicated,” I told him. “If you can’t get it, the saleslady can come do it.”
He glanced up at me and smiled before looking back at the way it laced up, then tied at the top. When his fingers brushed my bare skin, I shivered. He stilled for a moment, then went back to adjusting the back—tying it, I assumed.
Finally, he stepped back and looked at it, then up at me.
“Turn around,” he told me.
His gaze roamed down the dress and stopped on the slit before lowering. When his eyes came back up to mine, he sighed. “You look incredible. I’m struggling with the slit and the amount of cleavage, but, damn.” He shook his head, and his eyes traveled over me appreciatively again.
“Is it too much cleavage and leg for your parents’ party?” I asked, wanting this dress simply because of the way he was looking at me in it.
He chuckled. “No. Not at all. My mom will probably be showing more skin than this. It’s my personal issue. How do you feel in it?”
His question surprised me.
“Beautiful,” I admitted.
He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, you left beautiful way behind. This is another level.”
Okay, I wanted this dress. I might wear it every day if it got that kind of reaction from Saxon. Heck, I would sleep in it.
“I’m thinking sparkly red heels.” He was looking at my leg again. “Shit. That’s gonna …” He shook his head. “No. This is it. Take it off.”
I turned my back to him and waited for his help. He stepped forward and slowly began undoing the back. It took less time than lacing it had. I forgot to hold the front, and it started to fall. I caught it just in time to cover my nipples. Looking up, I caught Saxon’s eyes looking at my boobs through the mirror. He didn’t move. He just stood there and stared.
There was no mistaking the interest in his brown depths. He wanted to see more, and I was so close to letting go of the dress and giving him a full view. The fear it would mess things up with us was the only thing keeping my hands in place.
Before I could cave to the temptation, Saxon turned and left the room. I gasped and leaned against the wall. My nipples were so hard that they ached as badly as the area between my legs did.
It took me several minutes to get ahold of myself before I could finish taking off the dress. I changed back into my leggings and sports bra. Once I had the dress hanging up again, I went to the door and walked out with it. Saxon stood, taking the dress from me, and walked me over to the corner of the store, where there were shoes.
The saleslady appeared. “Oh, she found one. You should have called me over. If there was any area that needed altering, I could have handled it.”
“It was perfect,” Saxon informed her.
The woman grinned at him, then turned to me. “Ready to find the perfect heels?”
I nodded.
Saxon slid a hand over my hip and nodded toward a red pair. “I want to see her in some red ones.”
I wasn’t sure I was going to survive this shopping trip with him.
Nineteen
Haisley
The moment we arrived back at his house, I went to my room to call Jamaica. She burst into tears when she answered the phone. Jamaica didn’t have to be pregnant to be emotional. She was always the one I worried about the most. Her demons went deep, and she was so fragile.
“Don’t cry,” I told her, choking up myself.
“I can’t help it. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too. Tell me how you are. How things are at home.”
She sniffled, and I could picture her wiping away the tears on her face. “The same, except I have a newfound respect for all you did for us, growing up. Your shoes are really hard to fill. I don’t do as good of a job.”