He turned immediately, his body stilling in the chair when his eyes caught me.
“Holyfuck,” Beau said after he’d stared for almost long enough for me to shift uncomfortably in my brand-new shoes.
My body quivered at the two words, the tone they were uttered in and the way he looked at me.
I smoothed the dress down my hips, hyperaware of how wide my hips were and how the fabric did not hide an inch of that.
“It’s not … I don’t know, too much?” I bit my lip.
The dress itself wasn’t overly complicated. It was a buttery cashmere that was so soft I was afraid of how I’d ever clean it. The soft pink was the perfect shade for my coloring. The neckline exposed my shoulders, and my collarbones.
It finished almost at my ankles, just brushing the leather of my boots. How Calliope could’ve known it was the perfect length for that combination was anyone’s guess.
She’d texted to say:
Hair up, pink lipstick, gold earrings.
That was it. I’d obeyed her commands because anyone with a survival instinct would obey Calliope Derrick.
And she was right, with my hair up in a high pony, dark pink lipstick, and my cheap gold earrings, I looked great.
Still like me, but the version of me I might be if I could routinely afford cashmere dresses and designer boots.
“Too much?” Beau repeated, still sitting in his chair, gaping. His silence had me uneasy, I couldn’t trust what was going on in his head since my brother’s visit.
“No. What’s going to be too much is me being arrested at a fancy restaurant because I can’t handle men’s eyes on you,” he muttered gruffly.
I rolled my eyes even as my bottom lip quivered at his words. He was still attracted to me. That much was clear. “You’d never.”
He raised his brow in challenge. “Try me.”
I shook my head with a smile. “We’re going to be late if you keep looking at me like that.” I wasn’t overly worried about being late as excited as I was about a real-life date with Beau.
Sure, I was excited about being two adults, eating good food, drinking a glass of wine. But I doubted the food would be better than what Beau cooked for me here, and I could take or leave wine.
My mind wandered toward the fantasy I’d entertained when I’d been standing in here talking about Halloween costumes. Now I didn’t have to have fantasies when it came to Beau. He was my reality. We were a reality. Especially with the hungry look that was currently setting my panties on fire.
I stepped forward, intending on telling him to forget dinner, instead to utter my desires, make them come to life.
But Beau stood in his chair, clearing his throat, tearing through the thick sexual tension of the moment. He was already dressed in a black collared shirt, black pants. His beard was shiny with oil, his hair mussed but tamed.
He looked good. Very good.
He crossed the distance between us, leaning to kiss me on the nape of my neck, his beard scratching my bare skin, making my body tremble with need.
“My favorite part of your body.” His lips brushed my exposed collarbones, hands resting on my hips.
I leaned back to raise my brow at him. “Yourfavorite?” I questioned.
He looked down pointedly, with hunger in his gaze. “Aside from the obvious.”
Toes curling in my fabulous boots, I waited for him to make good on that hunger, to peel down my dress, expose my nipples, suckle them.
But Beau lingered for a second more before he stepped back, eyes scanning my body before they focused on my face.
“We’ll be late,” he murmured.
Disappointed, but refusing to show it, I smiled. “We can’t be late for our very first date.”
