“It’s... a lot,” I say, running my hands down the silky fabric.
“It’s fucking perfect,” Sasha corrects. “You look like sex on legs. He’ll take one look at you in this and completely forget about any kind of slow-burn and jump straight into shoving his hands up your dress and into your panties.”
I bite my lip, considering.
“We’re getting it.” She crosses her arms and gives me a quick, decisive nod. “And those black strappy heels we saw in the window.”
By the time we leave the boutique, I’m the proud owner of not just the skimpy red dress and heels, but a matching set of black lace lingerie Sasha insisted was ‘essential battle gear.’
For the restof the afternoon we veg out in front of the TV with Goonie, watching movies and eating snacks.
Just after five o’clock, I get a text.
RYDER:Change of plans. Need to stay at The Brew to help finish setting up. Party starts at 8. Meet me here?
I hold the phone up for Sasha to see. “Looks like we’re meeting him there instead.”
“Perfect!” Sasha claps her hands together. “Plenty of time to get you looking even more irresistible.”
I text back a quick ‘That’s fine’ before tossing my phone aside.
Suddenly nervous, I mutter, “I’m starting to rethink this whole dress situation.”
“No way.” Sasha grabs my arm and pulls me off the couch. “You’re wearing that dress, and it’s going to make him regret this entire slow-burn thing.”
Two hours later, I barely recognize myself. The dress makes my waist look tiny and my hips deliciously full. Sasha has worked her magic on my hair, styling it in loose waves that cascade down my back, and my makeup—dark smoky eyes and deep red lips to match the dress—is sultrier than anything I would normally wear.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, smoothing my hands down my hips.
“I know, right?” Sasha appears behind me. Hair down, she looks stunning in a short black dress with a plunging neckline, and a silver pair of heels. “We look hot as hell.”
I look at the clock and realize it’s five minutes to eight. Guess we took a little more time getting ready than we planned.
My phone buzzes again.
RYDER:You on your way?
“We’re running late and he’s getting impatient,” I say, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my stomach.
“Good. Let him wait.” She grabs her purse and tosses me a small tube of lipstick. “For touch-ups. You’re going to need it after he sees you in that dress.”
At 8:05, we’re climbing into Sasha’s car.
“Ready?” she asks, eyes gleaming with mischief.
I let out a shaky breath. “God, I hope so.”
With the way Sasha drives, it takes less than fifteen minutes to get to town, but it still feels like forever.
The Brew looks completely transformed when we pull up. Strings of twinkling lights hang over the entrance, and I can see a crowd already starting to form inside.
“Deep breath,” Sasha says, squeezing my hand as we walk toward the door. “Remember, you’re the ‘Queen of Steam.’ You can do this.”
The moment we step inside, the energy hits me hard. The music is loud, the bass is thumping, and the space is packed with people—most of whom are heavily tattooed.
“Now we just need to find your man,” Sasha shouts over the music as she scans the crowd.
I spot him before she does. Standing at the bar, he’s wearing dark jeans and a tight black T-shirt, talking to a woman with vibrant purple hair. Even from across the room, his presence is magnetic.
