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As I hand it over to her, I rub my fingers over the silky fabric. “Do I even want to know how much it costs?”
There’s a touch of sadness in her eyes as she takes the dress. “You have Midas. Don’t worry about the cost. That’s not something you’ll have to think about ever again.”
It’s clear she thinks more is going on between Midas and me than there actually is, but I don’t correct her. For now, I’d rather pretend I’m not just another girl he’s going to discard tomorrow.
After I’m back in my own clothes and Midas’s torn pants and muddy coat are replaced with new ones, he holds his hand out to me. “Come.”
He threads my fingers with his as he leads me out of the store. A black sedan is parked in front, a man leaning against it reading a paper. As soon as he sees us, he hops forward and opens the door for me.
“M’lady.” The way he says it doesn’t sound teasing or playful. He’s perfectly serious. It makes me giggle under my breath.
I thank him before sliding into the car.
“Lennox,” Midas says, which I assume is the valet’s name. He pulls the man aside and says something else that I can’t hear, which makes Lennox’s eyes swing back to me.
As Midas folds his body in next to me, I hear Lennox quietly mutter, “Timely.”
Midas shoots him a sharp look, then takes my hand again.
“Where to, sire?” Lennox asks as he gets into the front seat.
“The closest lingerie shop.”
“What?” I squeak. I know I can’t wear this bra with the dress he picked out, but I figured I’d just go without for the night.
“You need new undergarments.”
“No one will see them, so what does it matter?”
He raises his eyebrows. “I could see your bra strap in that dress perfectly well.”
“I wasn’t going to wear it to the party.”
His gaze heats and he brings a hand to my knee, slowly dragging his palm up my thigh. “Did you plan on forgoing underwear, too?”
“I… don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go without underwear right now.”
“Why not?” His hand stops, his thumb rubbing the crease where my thigh meets my hip bone.
Be brave, Jesslyn.
I told myself I was going to live this night to the fullest. Come tomorrow, this real life, mythical, Cinderella, fairytale, will end. I’ll be back to being pulled down the street by six dogs, medical debt, a high schooler, rent, groceries, laundry, classes, dishes, dinner, lunch, breakfast. All the headache-inducing things.
But not yet.
“I don’t want… well, I’m… it wouldn’t be.” The half sentences come out as a breathy, awkward whisper.
His hand on my thigh grows impossibly warmer, tightening. “Are you trying to tell me you’re wet, Jeslyn?”
Drenched is more like it. I’m so worked up it’s not just my underwear that’s wet. My leggings are soaked too. I can barely breathe as I make a jerky nod in answer to Midas’s question.
He taps on the window dividing us from Lennox, and it turns opaque, blocking us from view. “Exactly how wet are you, Jeslyn?”
Channeling a woman far more experienced and adventurous than me, I take a deep breath and say, “Why don’t you find out?”
I take hold of his hand and slowly drag it up my inner thigh until his fingers brush my wet center. His nostrils flare and he makes a sound that’s almost a growl.
“Lift your hips,” he commands.
