This dress is miles out of my comfort zone, showing off every rolling valley of my body that I usually try to hide with looser clothing.
I’m notbig. I know that. I’ve got curves—boobs for days, a soft pouch curving my stomach, and extra padding on my hips and thighs. It’s something my mother never lets me forget, and tonight…I can’t get her voice out of my head.
“Angel?” Dillon calls from the living room, and I squeeze my eyes shut, deciding to take the dress off. I’m just reaching for the closet when the door to our bedroom opens. He walks in, and I watch him in the mirror, his head down, focused on the phone. “Hey, you almost ready?”
I don’t answer, taking in the way his dress shirt clings to his torso, the rolled sleeves straining against tanned forearms. A day’s worth of stubble covers his chiseled jaw because, by the time the end of the week comes, he can’t be bothered shaving anymore.
Forcing a smile, I straighten up, sucking in my stomach. “Do I look okay?”
Dillon looks up, his mouth falling open as he takes me in, appreciation flaring in his hazel eyes. He throws the phone carelessly on the bed, closing the distance between us and fitting his chest to my back.
“Do you look okay?” he echoes incredulously. “You look downright edible.” His voice lowers lecherously as his fingers drift to the bow, tugging at it playfully. “Holy shit, baby. The idea that I could just…pull.” His breath is hotwhen it blows across my ear, making me shiver. “And I’d have complete access to you…” He thrusts his hips against me, doing nothing to hide his growing arousal.
“Dillon,” I protest half-heartedly, playfully pushing his hands away just enough to allow me to turn in his arms, stretching up to plant a sweet kiss on his mouth.
He has other ideas, his hand palming the back of my neck, holding me exactly where he wants me as he deepens the kiss. I twist my fingers into his shirt, uncaring about creasing the fabric as I sink against him with a sigh.
Dillon swallows the sound with a groan of his own, his hands constantly moving—a fist in my thick hair, groping at my ass, and then dipping into the neckline of my dress, cupping my breast, teasing my nipple to a hardened peak.
My head is hazy with desire as his tongue strokes over mine, and I press my thighs together, my panties already shockingly damp. It’s always been like this with Dillon, our chemistry a match, just waiting for the tiniest spark to set us alight.
I’ve never felt the way I feel about him about anyone else, and it all still feels like a dream—a figment of my imagination I never actually thought I’d have for myself.
Dillon has an MBA and works at Kingswell Financial Group, a powerhouse in the financial world, whereas I’m a high school graduate working in a bookstore. He frequently works out, while my idea of exercise is getting up from the couch, walking to the kitchen for snacks, and then sitting back down.
The insidious voice in my head—the one that sounds like my mother—constantly whispers that I’ll never be able to keep his interest. Not when he could find someone prettier, someone more like him.
I’m cruelly yanked from the fog of desire by my ownthoughts, and I pull away from him. We’re both breathing heavily, our lips wet and swollen. My lipstick is smeared across his bottom lip, and I smile waveringly, rubbing it away with my thumb.
“We should go,” I whisper huskily, and Dillon’s attention drops to my mouth as I talk.
“I know,” he murmurs, not moving away. “But maybe we could just stay.”
I shake my head. “Jack’s been wanting to celebrate this promotion for a week, especially after how long he waited to hear about it.” I tilt my head, wishing I could push him to stay home but knowing he’ll regret it if we do. “You really gonna bail on him?”
“Yes.” His hands slide down my body to cup my ass, dragging me into him, grinding his pelvis against me. “Unquestionably,yes.”
I giggle, risking another kiss before escaping his clutches. “Well, I’m not willing to listen to him bitch about you missing it,” I say lightly. “He’ll keep it up for months…or until he screws something up. Whichever comes first.”
Dillon groans, but there’s acceptance in the sound. No matter what he might say, he’s been looking forward to this night out for days, lamenting about how busy he’s been at work.
Still, he grazes his knuckles down my cheek, making my knees weak. One dark brow slowly lifts, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth up, and it feels like he’s reading my mind, knowing exactly what he’s doing to me.
“We’ll go,” he relents, before adding in a low, suggestive rumble, “As long as you promise to let me unwrap you later.”
I make a show of thinking it over before ducking myhead down, looking up at him through my thick lashes with a coy smile. “I guess I can agree to that.”
Dillon shakes his head at me, that smirk widening into an affectionate smile. He steps back, as if needing to put some distance between us.
On the bed, his phonepingswith a message—probably Jack, wondering what’s taking us so long, but it’s enough to remind me of a message I received earlier. “Oh, Barrett wanted to know if we could do brunch or something tomorrow.”
There’s a pause, a slight hesitancy, before Dillon says, “That should be fine if we don’t drink too much tonight.” He chuckles, something flickering across his expression, but it’s gone before I can catch it. “You should have invited him to the bar.”
I shrug lightly. “He already had plans tonight.”
“Well, there’s always next time.” Dillon’s smile doesn’t falter as he reaches for his phone, reading the message before telling me, “Everyone’s already there, except for Marisa. I’ll order us a ride. That way, we don’t need to worry about how many drinks we have.”
“Okay,” I agree easily, turning to face the mirror again, eyes widening as I notice my mussed sandy brown hair and the smudged makeup. “Oh,god, look what you did.”
