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Drake perused me, giving me that dampened smile of his. “George said you needed my help.”
“Of course he did.” I rolled my eyes. “He lied. You can leave now. I’m naked under here,” I said, like an idiot. My cheeks burned.
Drake inched closer, his dampened smile turning sultrier with each step he took. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he reminded me.
Believe me, I hadn’t forgotten. I cleared my throat. “That was a long time ago.” I backed up until I hit the mirror.
Drake drew ever closer. He had the Patrick Swayze vibes going for him. Oh crap.
“You should go,” I whispered, half-heartedly.
“I think you need my help,” he said so sexily, the butterflies were not only pole dancing, but some of them had moved on to . . . well . . . I won’t mention it.
I needed help all right. “I don’t.” I held on to the dress for dear life.
Drake stood inches away from me. His eyes taking me in and reeling me in all at the same time. “You are beautiful,” he said so quietly, I wasn’t sure I heard him right.
“It’s the dress,” I stuttered.
“No, it’s all you.” He stepped closer.
I stopped breathing. A war was going on inside me. I wanted him to close the distance, take me into his arms and feel his lips on my skin. But I knew I couldn’t let him, unless he intended to keep me there forever.
He paused and blinked, as if he’d been under a spell and was coming out of it. “Where did you get the ball gown?” The magic of the moment went right out the window.
I was finally able to take a breath. “It’s Daisy’s wedding gown; George thought I should wear it to the ball. I was trying it on, but it buttons up the back,” I rambled. “And now I’m in this awkward situation.”
Drake chuckled. “I don’t feel awkward.”
“Well, I’m a mortal, unlike you.”
“I beg to differ: you look like a goddess in that dress,” he crooned.
“Will you please go?” I begged, before I did something foolish and kissed him for saying sexy things like that to me.
“Let me button up the dress for you so you can see how it fits.” He didn’t miss a beat.
“It will fit just fine.”
He tilted his head. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” I stammered. His presence had me feeling unsteady and totally unsure.
“You don’t sound too confident.” He closed the distance. His broody, let-me-own-you scent began doing its job and taking over my brain cells—and my soul.
It led me down the fatal-error path. I looked right into his eyes. Those sea-green babies were still a mystical wonderland. In them, I saw how beautiful he thought I was. And I believed him. I loved and hated him for it.
To prove the truthfulness reflecting in his eyes, he whispered, “Charlotte, turn around and see how beautiful you are.”
Without even thinking, I turned around, exposing my backside to him. That thought snapped me out of my Drake-induced trance. “Don’t look,” I warned him through the mirror.
“Too late.” He smirked.
I pressed the dress tighter against my breasts, lest he get a peek of those babies.
“You are adorable.” He went to work buttoning up the dress.
“Still don’t like to be called that,” I warned him.
“I don’t know why.” He was able to button the dress and look at me at the same time. No doubt he had a lot of practice with all his girlfriends.
“You know why.”
“Anyone can be beautiful, Charlotte. And you are, but no one is as charming as you.”
“Is that what you mean by adorable?” I hadn’t thought of it like that. I thought he meant I was like a cute, perky puppy. Charming I could get on board with. You know, if he was planning on sharing a board with me.
“Yes.” He ran a finger over the bare skin in the middle of my back, making me shiver.
“What are you doing?” I could hardly ask. His touch was making all my glands shout.
“I missed your heart-shaped birthmark.”
It had missed him too. I thought of all the times he’d kissed it that weekend. I really shouldn’t have. My heart started to race. “Just hurry,” I pleaded. I was losing my ability to not make a foolish choice with him.
“Why? I’m enjoying this.”
I was too, but . . . I caught his eye in the mirror. “Drake, you’re leaving in two days. I mean, what are we even doing here?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell if I know.” All the sexy playfulness in his voice was gone.
“Oh.” I was hoping maybe he knew—that he had finally figured out what I’ve always known about us. I stepped away from him. “I think the dress will fit. You can go now. Thank you.”
He tugged on the dress, not willing to let go. “What do you want from me, Charlotte?” he pleaded to know, even though he had asked the same question before.
