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Eros doesn’t leave. “But I’ve seen a billion naked bodies.”
“I’m sure you think nothing of nudity, probably checking in on everyone having sex like a freaking pervert, but it’smybody, and I don’t get naked in front of guys I just met, god or not.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “So, out.”
“Fine, but I don’t check in oneveryone.” Eros chuckles like it’s a joke, and maybe it is. On his way out, he glances at my outfit that I set on the counter. “What is this? Are you planning on hiking to dinner?”
“They are clean clothes.” I point to my filthy shirt and jeans to show him I need a replacement. “The blouse is nice.”
I nudge him toward the door. However, he’s more solidly built than he looks, which is very solid, and he doesn’t budge.
He frowns. “I said we were goingout.”
“Well, when I packed, I didn’t think I was going to be dining with a love god at a fancy-schmancy place. Sorry, not sorry,” I say with an edge. “My clothes aren’t that bad.”
“Hmm.” He mumbles something but finally leaves me in peace alone in the bathroom.
Glancing at the tub, I have to admit that a bath sounds amazing. There are copious amounts of bubbles floating in it. I can’t remember the last time I treated myself to a bubble bath. I undress and dip into the perfect hot water that stings a bit and wakes you up but doesn’t burn off flesh.
I moan as all my muscles relax and melt in the heat. I enjoy the sensation of the water touching every part of me, caressing me, as my fingers play with the bubbles. Exhausted from the day’s events, I close my eyes and must doze for a moment, because when I open them, Eros is standing over me.
I yelp and cover my breasts since the bubbles have thinned out.
“If you stay in there any longer, you will become a human prune,” he says.
“What are you doing in here?” I snap, scrambling to cover myself with the traitorously popping bubbles.
“I was calling you and getting worried when you didn’t respond.”
“Oh…” I flush, embarrassed that I yelled at him when he was concerned.
He turns dramatically. “I will avert my gaze, fair maiden. However, we have reservations in ten minutes, so hurry your sweet ass up.”
“Ten minutes!” I grumble and catch the huge, fluffy towel he tosses over his shoulder, then I meet his eyes in the reflection of the huge mirror. “Out!” I order before I stand up.
He chuckles and leaves, closing the door behind him.
After a quick dry off, I reach for my clothes on the counter, but they aren’t the blouse and black jeans I had there before. Instead, I find a red, silky dress, which is simple and elegant, sexy underwear, and a strappy pair of high heels. “What the hell is this?” I yell through the closed door.
“We are going out to eat somewhere that uses real cloth napkins and tablecloths, and you have nothing appropriate.”
I curse, but I put my hair up in a cute, messy bun and pull the dress over my head, expecting it to fit horribly. I can never pick out clothes that look good on me, so I doubt a guy could do better.
As the material swishes into place, I gasp. I was seriously wrong. He even got my size right. Instead of drawing attention to my ample butt and thicker thighs, it makes them look good… sexy. Crap. Eros knows what he’s doing with clothes, but I won’t admit that to him. I’m still irritated that he’s dictating what I wear, even if it looks better than what I had.
He also brought in my toiletries bag. With a grumble, I realize I have to add a touch of makeup to keep up with this dress or my face will look out of character. I draw on some eyeliner and brush on some blush and some lip gloss. I’m not much into makeup, but it does the trick.
When I step out, I feel self-conscious. I rarelytryto look sexy—not anymore. I don’t know how to wear this… costume, and that’s what it feels like. I’mpretendingI’m hot. Sure, I know I’m alright looking, but I’m not the kind that normally turns heads. I’m an average amount of aesthetically pleasing, but not to the point where I should be in front of a camera instead of behind it.
Eros stands outside the door, leaning against the wall in a tailored, charcoal black suit with a crisp, blood-red dress shirt that matches my dress. The clothes make him more stunning, if that’s possible. I suck in a breath, and he smirks, likely knowing how good he looks. Next to him, I definitely feel like a fraud.
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “You clean up quite nicely.”
I blush. “Thanks?”
“Why is that a question?” He tilts his head in confusion. “I didn’t even sayhowdelicious you look in that dress.”
I turn away and grab my purse. “Because I’m not a hot girl.”
“Could have fooled me,” he mumbles, eyeing me appreciatively, and opens the door so we can go.
