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“Think she did it.” Malik turned up the TV volume helpfully.
“The nominee field includes Tiffany Monroe, who unveiled her striking new look at a New Year’s Eve party. Can’t wait to see whether she goes dress or tux!”
I finished my bathroom primping in time to see a pic of Tiffany flash on the screen. Megan and Jaden’s New Year’s party had been the talk of every gossip rag, due in large part to Tiffany’s appearance in a pixie haircut, velvet suit jacket, no shirt, and pink sequin sneakers. Baby steps, we called it. She cut her hair and ditched the heels, and I’d let her put product in my curls and talk me into wearing a fuzzy white sweater. I was ridiculously proud of how good Tiffany looked in the pic, but it was her wide smile that made me the happiest. Authenticity, as Malik would call it, looked good on us both.
“Yes!” I fist-pumped before sending Tiffany a lightning-fast congrats text. “That’s our girl! Go, Tiffany!”
“Go, you.” Malik sat up more fully on the bed, attention still on the screen. “You’re likely gonna get an invite to the daytime Oscars with Liam and Andre and the rest of the wardrobe crew now. Bet Liam mentions you in his speech.”
“Maybe.” The back of my neck heated. Liam called me his favorite protégé, and we were well into our third project together, but I still wasn’t entirely sure what to do with praise for my new career.
“And…” Malik flipped off the TV, eyes going wide as he took notice of me for the first time. I wasn’t ever getting tired of how he stared at me, features going soft, eyes heated, mouth full, all his intensity directed my way now. “Oh, Avery. Look at you, baby.”
“It’s okay?” As he hopped off the bed and crossed the room to me, I resisted the urge to pat my hair which was longer than I’d ever worn it. Not like ponytail long, but there was no hiding my blond curls these days. Tiffany and Megan had me on a special care regimen to keep them frizz-free, but I was still a little self-conscious of my halo of hair.
“It’s perfect. Can we send Andre a pic of your face?” Malik studied me intently from several angles. Doing eyeliner left-handed wasn’t easy, but I’d been practicing for this subtle, glittery look. First time wearing it out, though, so my stomach was still churning as Malik continued, “Andre and Liam need to see how well you’ve paid attention to your lessons.”
“After the last touch.” I picked up my corset from the chair I’d left it on before my shower. I was wearing my favorite dressy jeans for sentimental reasons, but the black corset was new. We’d had invites to a special one-night-only trunk sale at Delectable in LA, and I hadn’t been able to resist the purchase. It was black leather with satin laces, like the one I’d admired almost a year ago on the movie set. I’d been chicken then, but now I was mainly excited to finally get to wear it out. “Will you help me?”
“Always.” Malik took the corset from me, smiling slyly, likely because he’d been waiting for me to ask. The leather on my corset matched his leather pants, and his silver mesh top was a nice contrast. I’d gifted him the top for this exact evening, and I really needed to congratulate past-me on my good taste because, damn, my man looked amazing. Thick. Muscled. Powerful. In charge.
“It’s so pretty.” I trembled as he laced me up, dropping plenty of kisses on my shoulders and taking time to tease my nipples and abs with his long fingers before snuggly fitting the fabric to my torso. The leather corset was lined with a delicious satin, a feature that had drawn me in, badass exterior, pretty hidden interior. It skimmed right below my pecs, a delicate curve that showed off all my gym hours working on my pecs. And hey, bonus, I now had a hot boyfriend who loved to go lift with me at the gym, especially whenever one of us was stressed. Gym. Gaming. Great food. Documentaries. Kinky sex. I was a lucky, lucky boy, and I knew it. But right as I was about to tell Malik how lucky I was, something slim slithered around my neck. “Hey, what are you…?”
“Got you a little something to match your corset.” He turned me so I could see myself in the mirror. Hell yes, I looked amazing in the corset with my smoky eyeliner, dusky nipples, and well-defined collarbones and biceps. I’d opted not to wear the prosthesis tonight, another decision that felt right and let me display my latest tat, one I’d gotten when Malik added to his own forearm ink collection. I’d added a phoenix feather below my right shoulder and above the worst of my scarring. I loved the subtle rainbow details on the tattoo and how the teal near the base gave way to orange flames and smoke at the top. And I also really loved the ribbon choker Malik had added to my neck. The thin piece of black satin with a little silver loop near my Adam’s apple had a teeny-tiny key dangling from the loop, tickling my throat.
