Faking It For Mr Right

Maybe she’s ruined me.

If so, I can’t deny that I’m enjoying the feeling.

Someone clears their throat. I turn, and my pulse leaps back to high speed at a single glance. Melanie has emerged from the dressing room. And fucking hell.

I knew the tight, glittering gown, with its plunging neckline and a cut that hugs her hips before it flares out around her knees, would look good on her. But I had no idea how good. I didn’t realize she’d look so fucking delectable that it makes me want to grab her and drag her back into that dressing room, pull the curtains behind us, and bar the door from interruption for the next hour.

“How does it look?” Melanie asks, her voice low and throaty, her eyes soft. Almost shy.

I have to clear my throat, hard, before I can even respond. “I think you found the winner.” My voice comes out tight, too. Almost a growl.

The corner of her mouth quirks into a half smile. She turns so I can get the full effect, and glances at me over her shoulder. Fuck. The view from here is even more enticing, since the dress hugs and accentuates her curves the whole way down. It makes me want to stand up, pull her against me, bend her over in front of me and…

“You really like it?” she repeats.

“Trust me. The only problem is going to be how I’ll stand to let you keep it on all the way through dinner,” I respond, my voice low enough that only she’ll be able to hear me. Still, her cheeks flare bright red, and her smile widens as she laughs faintly.

“Maybe I should just wear a bag to this dinner instead,” she jokes, grinning. “To be on the safe side.”

“Oh no.” I stand, though with difficulty—the sight of her in that gown isn’t exactly doing me any favors when it comes to resisting my baser urges right now. “There’s no room for discussion. I’m buying you that gown.”

She laughs aloud now, a real laugh, one that reaches her eyes. “Fine,” she says, one hand on her hip. God, the way her body cocks to one side practically kills me where I stand. “But only if you promise me we’ll have some time alone after this dinner, too.” Her eyes find mine. Flare hot. “I like the way you’re looking at me now.”

Fuck it. I glance over my shoulder. The rest of the store is empty. The salesperson who was helping Melanie earlier has, rather presciently, vanished into thin air. And the dressing rooms are empty.

“I’m not waiting until after dinner,” I tell her. I reach out to grab her hand, and before she can utter a word of protest, I drag her with me back into the empty dressing room.

8

Xander

There’s no way I can wait any longer to get my hands on this woman. It was torture enough back at the house, trying to keep my head straight. Now, though, seeing her in this dress…

“I take it you like the look,” Melanie murmurs with a faint grin, reaching up to hook her arms around my neck as I bend to kiss my way along her jawline to the spot where her jaw meets her throat, just below her ear.

“You have no idea,” I whisper, my breath hot against the soft skin of her neck, making her shiver beneath my hands. I walk her slowly backward, until her back is pressed up against the wall of the cubicle. The dressing room might be narrow, but we’re getting practiced at narrow spaces. There’s still a lot more space here than we had in the airplane.

And even if there weren’t, there’s no way I can resist this woman for much longer.

I drop to my knees in front of her. She gasps softly, and I grin up at her, until she clamps a hand over her mouth, her eyes fixed on the curtain behind me, the only thing separating us from the rest of this very public, very expensive store. I wink. “Think you can keep yourself quiet?” I whisper, and she actually bites the fingertip she’s got covering her mouth, now.

God, this woman. She’s going to be the undoing of me.

I tug at the hem of the dress. It’s tight around her hips, but not so tight that I can’t slide my hands up her beautiful, curvy legs, tracing the soft, smooth, warm skin all the way up until her dress is bunched around her waist. When I hook my fingers under her panties—a fresh, adorable pair I haven’t seen before, clearly going for more of a covered look than the thong last time, I glance up at her with a smirk.

Then I tug them down.

She swallows a gasp, shivering against the wall, as I lean in to press my lips to her hips, one after the next, slow and hot. I let my tongue trail along the creases where her hips meet her upper thighs. I reach back with both hands to grip that firm, pert ass of hers, the one I love so much, and I draw her hips toward me, off the wall.