He raised a brow, his throat working. “Why?”
“Because you don’t recognize colors, and today, we will fix that by making you wear something different. We’ll call it liberty day, where you do what you don’t usually do. How does that sound?”
He gave me a warning stare. “I do not appreciate you implying I have trouble identifying colors, nor do I trust the mischief in your eyes.”
“Trust me, you’ll love what I selected.” I held onto his wrist. “Come on.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Zahra
Ipicked out a light brown round-necked, short-sleeved shirt, coupled with soft cream-colored beige pants to go with it, for Elio. He was going to shock many people tonight, and while I would love to see that, I really wanted him to get out of his self-made comfort zone for a while.
I had spent three days and two blow jobs trying to convince this man to attend this event, not because I really,reallywanted him there, but because almost everyone who was anyone was going to be there, and he was going to be stuck here alone when everyone was having fun, living their lives and enjoying it.
I wanted to show him that his concept of life being better only when predetermined wasn’t exactly ideal; I wanted to show him that it was okay to live for now and in the moment, and maybe I just needed him to loosen up so I could approach a topic I’d been finding difficult to discuss with him, given his very concerning ability to read me—I needed to get him off the ship without him suspecting anything.
Standing in front of the mirror in Elio’s dressing room, I examined my sleeveless thigh-length, emerald-green dress. I’d selected it mainly because it provided easy leg movement and was very simple. Nothing too flashy, just something attractive and appropriate.
The only problem now was my hair; I’d tried teasing it, curling it, and leaving it straight, but nothing seemed to work. I wished I hadn’t ignored the growing length and had done something about it.
I tried doing a short, low ponytail, but it would look awkward because it was long but not long enough to look pretty.
“Zahra, this is uncomfortable; it feels as though I am being strangled—”
I turned sharply after catching a glimpse of him in the mirror, and my jaw practically fell off.
“You look… lovely,” he told me, his gaze moving down the length of my body.
“And you look…” God, when I selected his outfit from the cruise boutique when Milk and I had gone to get clothes for this event, I’d had a visual of how he would look in it, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
The shirt and the pants hugged him, not too much, but just enough, his chest, his biceps, his arms, broad shoulders, torso, his perfect narrowed waist. The way his pants showed off his muscled thighs and perfect legs and the way the whole brown and cream seemed to mesh with his skin color, and the color of his eyes; it was fucking new… Even though I had seen him in a white sweater before this, this was different. Elio in regular clothing was a new kind of sexy I was not prepared for.
I returned my gaze to his face, which now held a frown. “I hope that look is you telling me I should go change—”
“Hell no!” I yelled, and I felt the force of my voice from my chest. “Change never.”
“What?”
I blinked, swallowing. “I mean, you look sexy. Very sexy, off-the-charts sex appeal, sex on legs, on strong, strong legs, very sexy material—”What am I saying?
“This is not decent, right?” He looked confused.
“It is very decent in a sexy kind of way. Definitely not professional,” I told him as I walked closer, his cologne melting my resolve. He smelled so good. “But it’s liberty day, so, yes,you are wearing this to the event.” Sucking in a breath, I ran my hands up and down his biceps, feeling him up as I muttered what was supposed to have stayed in my head. “Lord, do I want to use this body… fuck me.”
“Now?”
I snapped my head up to look at him. “Oh no… I meant, uh… I was cursing myself because I am really appreciating you and your awesome, awesome body. Carved for me.” I smiled at him.
He watched me. “It was not technically carved for—”
“Shut up, just go with it,” I told him. “And please, you look good, like really good, like no-one-is-going-to-stop-staring-at-you good. You look like some mundane banker who frequents the gym and has a lovely girlfriend who he is loyal to.”
“Is there a hidden message there, somewhere?”
“Of course not.”
He nodded. “Thank you for saying I look good; I quite like the color, but I would have preferred something less—slinky. You are very flushed right now, querida.”
