Page 89 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

It only takes a few good pushes for him to catch up to me, creating a conversation space again. This time, it’s between a pearl bustier and a chain mail shift. “Brie—”

“He’s beautiful.” The words explode out of me, a shotgun blast of truth. I laugh to smooth it out. “Obviously.”

“Hey!” Chryser yells from across the floor. “Less laughing, more rifling!”

I speed up my clothing search so Luke can’t see the embarrassment staining my cheeks. But there’s not much rack left. We reach the end at the same time and come face-to-face.

“He is beautiful,” Luke nonchalantly agrees, making my stomach bottom out. He holds my gaze. “So are you.”

“What options have you pulled?” Chryser interrupts, coming over to us before I can respond to Luke. His arms are piled high with garments, all gowns of varying hues.

I snag a random number. “This one.”

Chryser’s thin brows rise. Luke’s eyes flash with something reminiscent of what I saw in the bathroom this morning.

I glance down at the dress. The entire length of it is sheer, from the tube top to the toes. On it are tiny crystals that create a reflective quality. But not nearly reflective enough.

“Actually, I’m not loving it in this light,” I say, placing the revealing garment back on the rack. I turn to Chryser. “What did you pick?”

And that’s how I end up, over an hour later, in a deep purple gown with a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. Chryser tied the corset back so tightly I can barely breathe, and I’ve traded my trusty Docs for a pair of black velvet platform heels. A thigh-high slit up the right leg adds the perfect touch, and will come in handy for hiding my dagger while keeping it quickly accessible.

Beside me, Luke buttons the jacket of a black tux made of sleek velvet with faint designs etched across it. Beneath the jacket is a fitted dark purple button-down that matches my dress. The top few buttons are undone, and a velvet bow tie hangs loosely around his neck.

I’ve seen Luke dressed up. Even on casual Fridays, when Ted is boasting a college D3 basketball T-shirt two sizes too small, Luke never fails to sport a button-down and slacks around the office. But this…this look was made for him.

In the large mirror in front of us, our reflections meet eyes. Chryser rimmed mine in smokey black and purple shadow, making them sexily stand out. If I had done it, it’d look like I got double-whammy black eyes. My lips are red, though he didn’t use lipstick. It’s because there are teeth marks in them. I must have bitten them raw throughout last night’s ordeals.

Luke’s mouth ravaging mine could also be to blame.

Making out is what I wish we could be doing right now. The platforms put me just an inch or so shorter than Luke. Beside each other in our matching outfits, we look like a real couple. It makes a deep yearning throb in my chest.

“Do you like the dress?” I do a silly twirl, directing my question toward Luke since it’s just us right now. Chryser went into the back to retrieve our final touches.

“It’s stunning.” Luke clears his throat, gaze lingering on the bodice. “You’re stunning.”

My face warms under the compliment. “I feel like a Disney princess. The gown kind of gives goth Belle vibes.”

“So does that make me the Beast?”

“You did get shot with an arrow. And hey, look at that. A movie you actually know.”

“Before it was a movie, it was a fairy tale. Everyone knows the fairy tales. It’s basic monster research.” Pulling out my dagger and thigh sheath, which I handed to him before changing into the dress, he raises a brow. “May I?”

Thank God the dress is squeezing me to death and thwarts my sharp intake of breath. “Sure.”

Luke drops to one knee. With nimble fingers I’m all too familiar with, he separates the slit of my dress. I shudder when his rough hands brush my thigh as he wraps the leather around my leg. He looks up at me, expertly buckling the sheath.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, grabbing the back of my leg. I suck down a breath. His palm feels like a brand against my skin, or maybe it’s my own flesh that’s hot. The reverent way he’s looking up at me certainly doesn’t help.

“I like you on your knees,” I admit, thinking of him in the same position in the bathroom.

Amusement flickers in his dark eyes. “That’s good to know. But I mean the strap of the sheath. It’s not too tight?”

“Oh, no, sorry.” I clear my throat, cheeks burning. “Um, that’s fine.”

His touch lingers, keeping my leg still as he slides my dagger into its home. My fingers brush through his thick strands without direction from my brain. It’s fine and all, but I want my fists knotted in them. I want to tug and pull until—

“I found what I was looking for,” Chryser announces. My hands retract from Luke’s hair like it’s flames. He’s slower to disengage, letting his fingers graze the sensitive skin at the back of my knee. He stands, leaning close to whisper in my ear, “You said the dress reminded you of a princess. I think you look more like a queen.”