“Thanks for doing this, Alex. I appreciate it.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
Clarissa returns with a rack full of clothes in an array of styles. “I also brought a few pairs of shoes for you to try just in case you needed to see what the whole look would be.”
“That’s great.” Sam stands, shoving her cell into the pocket of her jeans.
“If something doesn’t fit or you want to see something else, just ring that bell.” She points to the button in the center of the coffee table. “And I’ll be right over.”
“Okay.”
Sam turns to stroll over to the dresses and take a few into the stall with her. A moment later, I hear her unzip her jeans andshuffle in my seat. And when each garment falls at her feet, my breath catches. Just the thought of her being naked on the other side of that curtain shoots right to my cock.
Moments later, Sam exits the stall wearing a loose-fitting number. It looks nice, long and flowy, the color nice on her skin, but it isn’t it. Doesn’t suit her.
“What do you think?” She stares at herself in the mirror.
At the same time, we both shake our heads. Sam reenters and reemerges in a copper-colored dress with thin straps. And again, nice, but not the one. But she doesn’t ask my opinion on this one, silently making the decision herself with her nose scrunched up. We go on like this for a few more dresses, and none of them worked for her.
Just then, Clarissa returns with a different dress, holding it out to Sam. “One more. I think you’ll like this one.” Sam takes it from her then retreats into the stall. Meanwhile, I take out my phone to scroll through social media while I wait. Not long after, Sam steps out of the dressing room, and I nearly forget how to fucking breathe.
It’s black, simple at first glance, but then she moves directly in front of me, spinning with the biggest grin on her gorgeous face.
“Think I should try it with heels?” she asks but doesn’t wait for me to answer her.
Not that I have words anyway. She tiptoes over to the rack and picks out a pair from the choices Clarissa left for her. Then she bends just enough for me to get a peek at her thighs. Sam slips her feet into the stilettos and struts over to me. I squirm in my seat, swallowing down a lump as she closes in. Sam puts her foot on the sliver of bench that peeks out between my legs, and I swallow again. Without instruction, I get to work fastening the straps around her ankles, letting my finger brush against her soft flesh.
She makes eye contact with me as I finish with the last latch, completely unaware of what that one little gesture does to me. This isn’t like me, smitten beyond my own comprehension, taking a girl shopping, wanting to do whatever she wants if it means seeing the smile she’s sporting right now. Sam backs away to look at herself in the mirror.
The fabric molds to her like it was made just for her. The neckline is high, and her shoulders are completely bare. The silhouette is elegant enough to be the safest choice. But on her, it’s not safe at all. It’s lethal. And I won’t be the only person at the party who won’t be able to keep my eyes off her.
She turns slightly to look at herself, and I see the way her eyes light up. It’s as if she’s not used to seeing herself like this, and that does something to me. It’s better than any drug.
She looks good, and she fucking knows it.
I shift in my seat, casually adjusting the leg of my joggers more for survival than comfort. My fingers flex on my knee, my jaw locked so tight it hurts.
Clarissa approaches. “That’s the one. And the strappy heels are perfect with it. Don’t you think?” She directs that question at me.
All I can do is nod in rapid succession.
“Do you have any gold accessories?” Sam asks.
“I do and it’ll be perfect. One sec.” Clarissa races off, only to return a few seconds later. “It’s one of our matching sets. Comes with gold leaf earrings, a black and gold clutch, and solid gold cuff.”
Sam looks at everything, her eyes sparkling in excitement.
“We’ll take it. Shoes too,” I finally manage to get out.
“You’ve got a good man.” Clarissa beams. “I’ll take these to the register and meet you up there. Take your time.”
With that, Sam makes eye contact with me, her gaze shifting tentatively. She didn’t correct Clarissa when she called me her man, and I won’t correct her either. Because it feels right.
“I’m going to change out of this one.”
I nod as my phone buzzes in my hand. An email alert dances across the top of my screen, and I sit up, my nerves getting the best of me.
Subject: Williamsburg, Alexander Makeup Exam Score
