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“So what you’re basically fucking saying is he wants me to wear a shapeless sack!” Kate shouts, pointing at the row of dresses Collette has picked out which, to be fair, look pretty fucking boring and shapeless.
“Well, I wouldn’t describe these dresses as sacks. I have an Armani dress here that would work perfectly.”
Kate snorts. “If Carter thinks I’m going to wear any of those fucking monstrosities, he’s got another thing coming,” Kate growls, and I have to hold in a laugh at the look on Collette’s face when she strides out of the changing room and grabs a dress that is the total opposite of what her dad had described.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate—” Collette begins.
“And I’m sure I don’t give a fuck!”
Kate storms back into the changing room drawing the curtain closed all the while cursing Carter out with language that colours the air blue.
“I’m just doing my job,” Collette mutters, more than a little shaken from Kate’s outburst. “Mr Davidson was very adamant. I really don’t want to lose my job over this.”
Blowing out a breath, I get to my feet. “Don’t worry, Collette, I’ll sort this out.”
“You will?”
I nod. “Just go grab me that drink Miranda promised and bring a glass of champagne for Princess too.”
“Of course,” Collette says, giving me a small smile before turning on her heel and getting the hell out of dodge. I don’t blame her, Kate’s a firecracker at the best of times, but when she’s mad, she’s nothing short of volcanic.
Casting my eye over the rack of clothes, I grab a black lace, floor length dress that meets Carter’s requirements, but is also sexy as fuck in an understated way. I’m pretty sure Kate would look hot as fuck in it, but Carter wouldn’t be able to say a damn thing given not an inch of flesh will be shown. I’m no expert in high fashion, but I know the female form, and this dress will hug it in all the right places. Correction, this dress will hugKate’sbody in all the right places. Not every woman could pull this dress off.
“Princess, Collette’s gone to grab us both a drink, but I’ve got this dress that I think you’ll loveandwill appease Carter.”
“I don’t want to fucking appease him. I want to wear what the fuck I want, when the fuck I want to. How dare he dictate to me what I should and shouldn’t wear. In fact, how dare he dictate what I do at all?!”
“I get it, I do—”
“I didn’t ask for a fucking party anyway!” she adds, her voice thick with emotion.
That fucking crack in her voice does stupid things to me, and not thinking my actions through, I shove aside the curtain and step inside the changing room with her, closing it behind me.
Her head snaps up. “What are you doing?”
“I thought this would look really good on you,” I say, ignoring the way her chest flushes pink as I hold out the dress to her. Really, what the fuck am I doing in such a confined space with her? All I know right now is that I’ve got a motherfucking death wish and I’m about to be the first person to die ofblueballitis.
Her gaze flicks to the lacy material as she looks it over. “It’s just as shapeless as the rest.”
“Put it on and I promise it will hug your figure like a second skin.”
“Like a second skin?” she questions, discarding the dress she grabbed in her anger and fingering the material of the one I’m offering.
“Yep, like a second skin.” I swallow hard, my gaze hyper focused on the centre of her forehead so that it doesn’t slip to dangerous places.
“I’m pretty sure Carter didn’t have this in mind when he was reeling off his list of rules for Collette,” she gripes, taking it from me.
“Well, maybe your dad needs to be a little more specific? Besides, you’re not showing an ounce of flesh, which meets his requirements and, in my opinion, is just as fucking sexy as a low cut, arse-skimming number.
“Is that so?” She smiles, taking the dress from me and twisting on her feet so she can hang it on the hook by the mirror and undo the zipper.
Despite trying really hard not to stare like a fucking creep, my gaze drops to the dip of her waist and curve of her hips as she takes the dress off the hanger and steps into it, pulling it up her body. The material glides like water over her skin as she slides her arms into the long sleeves, leaving a gap at the back where the zipper is still undone. My gaze is transfixed on the two little dimples in her lower back that are just begging to be licked, or better still filled with droplets of my cum…Fuck!
“I’ll wait outside,” I say, forcing my feet to move.
“Can you help me with the zipper first?” she asks, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
I should really say no. But fuck me, I don’t.
