I slip the dress over my head and she helps me zipper the back. Then she clasps a fake string of pearls around my neck. “There, that’s sort of dirty—like a dirty nun.”
She shoves me in front of my full-length mirror and I cringe at myself. I snap a picture for social media and bless all my followers and promising them that this nun with go where no nun has gone before. #NunOfYourBusiness
Julia grabs my hand and drags me out into the living room and presents me to Nate. “Well-la!” she explains, proudly.
Nate stares up at me blankly and blinks.
Someone knocks on my door and Julia runs over to get it. I do a little prayer in my head that’s it some kind of alcohol delivery service but it isn’t, it’s just Dex.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Dex circles around me with a perplexed expression. “Did someone die?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Nate says, pushing himself off the couch and walking over. He looks me up and down. “I thought you were going to the new fetish club?”
When he says the words fetish club, butterflies explode through my stomach.
“No, guys. She’s like a dirty nun.” Julia pouts and slaps her hands against her sides like she’s somehow greatly frustrated by all this. “She had nothing to wear and all my clothes are way too small for her!”
I close my eyes to the stab of her insult.
“What? No, you two stay out here. You,” Dex gently tugs the sleeve of my giant rectangle, “come with me.”
Silently, I follow him back into my room and watch him lock us in. He spins around on me, crosses his arms over his chest and frowns down at me. “You can’t wear that. That outfit is something my ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother would wear to church.”
My shoulders fall and I just want to quit already. “Dex, I’ve been through my closet twice, I have nothing nice to wear.” Even the outfit my mother bought me after my spa day—it was too bohemian and flower-childish.
He searches through the closet. “Jane, what the fuck? Do you just shop at the thrift store?”
I save a ton of money and eventually I can buy a house or travel, so what, I shop at the thrift store. Most of my grocery shopping happens at the Dollar Tree.
He combs through all of Julia’s child-sized clothing and smiles wickedly.
“What’s that smile for? That’s a very scary smile…”
“Come here,” he says, spinning me around. His warm fingers work down the zipper in the back of the dress and slips it off my shoulders. It pools around my feet on the floor. Goosebumps surge out across my body and a heavy pang of desire washes over me. I squeeze my eyes closed. This is Dex. This is Dex. I repeat this nineteen more times.
He shifts around my body, facing me. “Lift your arms for me,” he whispers quietly. He’s standing close to me, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath across the swell of skin that spills out over my bra. His chest rises and falls, and I get caught in the rhythm of it for a moment before I slowly raise my hands and bring them up.
His jaw ticks, and still I feel his breath, inhale…exhale across my breasts. Topaz eyes blink into mine; he’s being a gentleman—not looking anywhere else.
It feels like a lifetime passes while we stand there.
Then Dex reaches up and gently drops silky material over my hands and arms and head. It falls a little higher than mid-thigh and the material is so soft and cool I almost feel naked.
Dex walks me to the mirror, his warm hands cupping my shoulders. “Look at you,” he murmurs.
I’m wearing one of Julia’s shirts. On her is a billowy flowing blouse with a low neckline that travels through the valley between her breasts. On me is a sleek curvy short dress with a plunging neckline that shows my ample cleavage. My eyelashes flutter in shock. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Behind me, in the reflection of the mirror, Dex reaches up and pulls out my messy bun. My hair, wildly untamed, cascades past my shoulders and tumbles down to my waist. “I didn’t know your hair was this long,” he says, smiling at my reflection. “I’ve never seen your hair down.”
My eyes drift over the outfit, over my unruly hair, and focus on Dex. He touches a strand and tucks a small bit of it behind my ear. It’s the lightest of touches, but it makes my cheeks heat, my heart to thump low and quiet but so very hard against my rib cage.
“It’s still damp. Come and sit down.” He leads me to my small vanity again and turns on the hair dryer. He runs his fingers through the strands, drying them to a perfect shine.
Sweet mother of all that it holy, Dex Vanstone is doing my fucking hair.
When he’s done, my hair is a massive display of curls and waves that somehow accentuate my shoulders and waist and legs. He hands me my pair of small stud earrings and my Brian Atwood Alexa suede boots that I received as a gift for my collection of articles based on the Milan-based brand.
Dex lowers himself until he’s on his knees in front of me. My eyes widen as I feel him reach for my ankle and lightly grasp it. I clear my throat to say something—anything, but words don’t come out. His thumb trails a small circle over my skin, creating a fire that rips right through me. Every muscle in my body tenses, and it feels like my chest splits wide open and my insides are melting right out. “Dex?” I whisper.
