Crash (Evil Dead MC 2)
Page 187
“Is it sexy?”
Her drink arrived, and she took a sip, smiling at him.
“Come on, babe. You gotta give me something.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, this is too much fun.” He made to grab for the bag, but she kicked it out of his reach. “Uh, uh, uh. No peeking.”
“How about lingerie? Did you buy anything sexy for under the dress?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she teased.
“Oh, I’ll be finding out, all right,” he promised, scooting closer. His hand slid to her neck, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. Then he leaned in and nibbled on her neck. Moving to her ear, he whispered, “How about you don’t wear anything under it, Princess? Would you do that for me if I asked?”
“Well, now, that’s something for you to be wondering about all evening, isn’t it?”
He toyed with a curl of her hair, his eyes roving over her face.
After she finished her drink, Crash checked the clock over the bar. “How long’s it gonna take you to get ready, Princess?”
She shrugged. “An hour, maybe. Why?”
“It’s five-thirty.”
“Already? Where did the day go?”
Crash grinned. “We spent most of it in bed.”
She gave him a saucy smile in return. “Yes, I guess we did.”
He pulled the key card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Why don’t you go on up and start getting ready? I’ll be up soon.”
“All right.” She took the key and slid off her barstool.
Crash slid his hand to the back of her head and pulled her to him for a quick kiss. She gathered her bags and left.
An hour later, Shannon was in the bathroom, leaning over the vanity, putting her makeup on when she heard the door to their hotel room open. “Crash?” she called out.
“Yeah.”
A moment later he appeared in the doorway.
She turned to take him in. Somewhere along the way, he had bought a new white button-down shirt, because he had it on under his cut. “Don’t you look nice?”
His hand came to his chest, smoothing down the front of his shirt, but his eyes were sliding down her body. He took in the strapless red cocktail dress. It had a sweetheart neckline with ruching across the bodice. It fell in a form-fitting sheath that hugged her curves and fell to about six inches above her knee. His eyes trailed down her legs to a pair of gold strappy high-heeled sandals. Taking in the whole package, there was only one word that described it. Bombshell. “Baby. You look gorgeous. Marilyn Monroe’s got nothing on you, doll.”
She turned, putting the top back on her lipstick and smiled. “Thank you.”
“You ready?”
“Yes.” She moved to pass him, but he blocked her way.
“You know, if it wasn’t your birthday, I’d have you down on that bed already, and to hell with going out.”
“Then I wouldn’t get to wear this dress and torment you with it all night.”
“Right. God, that’s the truth.” He took her hand. “Let’s go.”
A few minutes later they were seated in a cozy booth complete with linen tablecloth and dim lighting. After their orders were taken and their wine was brought to the table, they were left alone.