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There’s one dress in particular that catches my eye. The item is a black cocktail number, but in the light it has a subtle shimmer that makes it glow. It’s low-cut, but not so revealing that it’s scandalous, and there’s a thigh-high slit that’s sexy but also becoming. I look through my selection of lingerie and locate a strapless push-up bra, and then squeeze into the entire outfit before walking over to the mirror.
A gasp escapes my lips. The dress hugs my curves, but it doesn’t make me feel heavy; instead, I feel very womanly and feminine. It might have something to do with how the sweetheart neckline makes my décolletage look amazing, or it might be the subtle shimmer, helping bring attention to my luscious hills and valleys. Either way, this is definitely the outfit for tonight.
Then, I rummage around the closet and find a stunning pair of high-gloss black stilettos. But when I check the clock, it’s only a few minutes until six, so I finish getting dressed quickly and make my way to the kitchen to wait for my date. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man I’m really interested in, and seeing Mason always makes my heart melt.
There’s the snick of a key in the lock and the door opens, but I don’t turn around. I can hear the alpha male’s footsteps as he moves near, closing the distance between us, and I wait until I can tell he’s almost right behind me to turn around.
Mason’s eyes go wide and the vibrant blue morphs into the deep oceanic color I’ve come to recognize that signals that he’s about to devour me. The gorgeous man’s holding a bouquet of flowers, but he doesn’t offer them to me right away. He’s stock still, other than those dark eyes which rove up and down my body hungrily. I smile, pleased I decided on this dress, even as I blush under the heat of his gaze.
After a couple minutes, when he still hasn’t moved, I decide to break the silence because if he keeps looking at me like that, we might not make it to our date.
“Are those for me?” I giggle, indicating the flowers.
Mason blinks and meets my eyes, and the heat in his stare makes me feel as if my skin is overheating.
“Baby, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he rasps.
Heat floods my body, and I smile. “Thank you, but it’s mostly the dress, and you chose it for me at the store, remember?”
Mason closes the distance between us and puts one hand on my hip. Then, he sits the bouquet on the counter and lifts his other hand, tipping my chin to look into my eyes.
“It isn’t the dress, baby girl. It’s you. You’re gorgeous and that dress wouldn’t look this good on anyone else.”
It feels like my heart has moved into my throat and started doing somersaults. I force a swallow, and find myself unable to answer. Instead, I look over at the flowers.
“You didn’t answer,” I say, and my voice isn’t more than a whisper. “Are those for me?”
Mason watches me, and then his lips break into a grin and I’m glad he’s still got his hand on my hip because my knees go weak. “They were going to be for you, but now that I’ve seen how amazing you look in this outfit, a dozen roses aren’t going to do. I promise to make it up to you.”
I laugh.
“These roses are beautiful, and I don’t need anything else.” Of course, at that exact moment, my stomach decides to grumble loud enough for the world to hear, and I want to crawl inside myself and bury my face in embarrassment. But Mason merely chuckles and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek.
“Perhaps, after dinner we’ll get you another bouquet,” he says, amusement clear in his voice. Then, he takes my hand and leads me to the elevator before making our way down.
I’m surprised when a black limousine pulls up at the curb. The driver rushes out and greets us, before sweeping open the door with a flourish.
“Sir,” he says. “Madame.”
I giggle at being addressed so formally, but then gasp upon entering the vehicle. This limo is far nicer than the cheap one my friends and I rented for prom during high school. That was more like a stretched-out cab painted black, while this one is like a sleek shark swimming sinuously in the sea of traffic.
“Wow,” I remark, eyeing the vase of flowers and the champagne bucket built into the wall. “So, how fancy is this place we’re going?” I ask.
He shrugs and grins. “The restaurant’s upscale, but more importantly, their food is excellent. They serve the best scallop risotto with truffles in Manhattan.”
I giggle. “It must be pretty high class if we’re pulling up in a limo.”
