The bird’s eye view down the neckline has me glancing away when I just wanna savor what I’m seeing. Either that or press a kiss to the nook where her tits are squished together.
She did this thing to her hair—the hair she always wears in a ponytail—so it tumbles in gentle waves over her shoulders. It’s dark brown. Not basic brown. But rich with a thousand shades of fall. Sable, I guess. It highlights the faint golden tinge to her skin that comes from her dad’s side and makes the onyx velvet pop.
Her eyes are cast down. Not demurely. Denny’s never demure around her buddies. But because of what she’s doing. I notice she’s wearing makeup, yet the cosmetics only enhance her features.
That cute button nose.
The sharp cheekbones that lead to soft, pouty lips, which are always quick to smile and quicker to quirk into a smirk.
There’s gloss on them now. Powder on her cheeks. A little extra bronze.
How didn’t I know Denny was this beautiful? Was I an idiot?—
Okay, scratch that. Yes, I’m an idiot. But holy hell, consider meawakened.
“Why are you dressing up?”
She scowls at me, but she’s so busy overcompensating that she doesn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Invite only night.”
While those are the dirtiest words in her language, my erection distracts me.
“Huh?”
She braces herself. “I got the invitation to pledge tonight. What do you think?”
I think she looks fuckable.
Bangable.
Eatable.
Everything-able.
But there’s no way in hell I can speak those words out loud.
“I thought you’d been sneaking around recently!”
She stacks her hands on her hips. Hips I want to grab. “I haven’t been sneaking.”
“Sure you have. I’ve hardly seen you this past week.” Yes, I’m pouting. “And you’ve barely shown up to practice!”
Denny yanks the neckline up then huffs when her tits remainthere. “I had classes and you’ve been busy fucking anything in a skirt, as well as that competition in Latvia?—”
“Latvia aside—not true.”
“Yes, true.” She sticks her hand on one hip this time and what that does to the lines of her dress should be illegal.
Mytruth spills from my lips: “You look great.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
“Stop it,” I admonish. “You shouldn’t.” How do I support her without making this weird? “It suits you. You look very pretty.”
She stops fidgeting with one of the straps. “I do?”
“I promise.”
“Thanks, Zach. Anyway, this is it. I find out tonight if I made it in or not.”
