I’m half-naked, trapped in a cocoon of pink silk. Cocoon is probably an exaggeration, given my legs are exposed and I’m wearing a pair of shimmering pinkErica Lefroyheels, but my midsection is wedged.
A sharp knock sounds on my bedroom door. “Diana?”Oh, shit.Rafe is outside, and he sounds impatient. “It’s time to go.”
“Okay, one minute,” I call back as I pull up the bodice and look in the full-length mirror. I twist the strapless dress around and try to yank the zip up, but it won’t go. I twist it the other way with the same result.
Nothing.
He knocks on the door again. “Diana?”
Adjusting the dress so it’s the right way around, I tug the front up on one side to cover myself. Breathless and harassed, I grab my purse and swing the door open.
Rafe stands in the hall wearing a black tie suit with one of those cream silk scarves hanging loose around his neck. He looks so good that I stall, nearly tripping on my feet.
He looks me up and down, gaze snagging where I’m holding up my dress. His mouth tightens, and there’s that same stiffness I noted in his manner earlier. The playful version of him, who would deliberately splash me in the pool, is gone. “Are you ready?”
As if in answer to his question, the loose side of my bodice flops down, revealing a chunk of boob flesh. Luckily, my nipplestays hidden. I fumble to catch it, dropping my clutch in the process. Rafe bends to collect my purse, glancing up at me from his position by my feet.
The wordsI doring loudly in my head, bringing with them an unwelcome flush of heat.
I must be going crazy if Rafe Bastion, momentarily on his knees, has me mentally agreeing to marry him.
“You’re supposed to be putting clothes on,” he says, rising to his feet. “Not taking them off.”
My cheeks grow hot. I can’t tell from his tone if he’s teasing or reprimanding me.
“I had a slight wardrobe malfunction,” I explain. “The zip…” I half turn away from him so he can see the issue. “Could you?”
He hands me my clutch and says, “Turn around. Fully.”
My skin buzzes, and my awareness of him, standing right behind me, reaches a peak. This is the closest he has stood to me for weeks, and certainly the longest he has lingered.
He could bend me over and take me from behind, just like this.
My breaths grow shallow as he shifts my hair from the back of my neck, his touch dusting my skin. A gentle shiver runs down my spine, and my body begins to hum.
He stills behind me. “Your perfume. It’s different.”
“Oh, yeah. I wear a different one during the day. This is myafter darkscent. I only wear it when I go out.”
“You didn’t wear it to the opera,” he says, low and thoughtful.
My heart flutters at the thought that he’d notice something like that about me. But then again, it’s perfume. It’s hardly subtle. “Didn’t I? I don’t remember. I wasn’t expecting to go out that night. We were in a rush. I must have forgotten to put it on.”
“You haven’t worn it at all,” he says.
My skin prickles with an awareness I can’t define. Why is he so fixed on my perfume? I can’t think straight with him standing so close. “I can wash it off if you don’t like it.”
“No, don’t.”
He offers no further explanation, but he emits a lowhmmas he tucks another strand of my hair over my shoulder and off my back.
“You trapped the fabric,” he whispers, and with a hand on my hip, he pulls me a tiny bit closer as he gently works the silk free from the zip, his knuckles skimming my spine. Heat trickles down my body, pooling between my legs.
I need to get out of this house. Away from this man. Because if I don’t—
“It’s a beautiful dress.” His voice is still low, and his exhalation tickles my neck, sending a shiver tripping down my back.
“Thank you,” I mutter. “It’s an Erica Lefroy.”
