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"Great.” I rolled my eyes. "So which one of you is going to slip into a cocktail dress? Because I'll be sitting in the surveillance van with popcorn watching this shitshow unfold."
"Ha-ha," Ansel dryly retorted, but Kylo's hand suddenly found mine under the table—a grip firm with unexpected authority.
"Actually, Averill, you're not getting off that easy. You owe me a night of playing the doting wife," Kylo declared and his thumb grazed my knuckles provocatively. "Last time we played house, Ansel got to fuck my fake wife, remember? Tonight, it's my turn to keep you close."
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath and heat pooled low in my belly. Was it from the danger of the mission or from the idea of pretending to be Kylo’s anything?
"This could be the chance to clear my dad's name and—" I swallowed, feeling the weight of years of betrayal and loss heavy on my chest—"and maybe find justice for my mom."
"Then we'll make it count," Kylo's gaze locked onto mine intensely. "Whatever it takes, right?"
"Right," I breathed, and the word felt like a vow that bound me to him, to this mission, to a future that could either save me or damn me forever.
"Let's just hope Oswin doesn't mistake you two lovebirds for his next targets," Somehow Ansel managed to sound both amused and deadly serious at the same time.
"Let's hope he does," I countered with a smirk. "It might be the closest thing I get to a happy ending in this fucked-up fairy tale."
The rest of the day was spent shopping for my disguise. I didn't care. I was too busy enjoying the way their eyes raked over me. I sat on a plush velvet stool in front of a three-way mirror, as a wave of designer dresses were paraded in front of us.
"This one," Ansel handed a deep red gown to the fawning sales person. "It'll make her look like she bled money from half the men in this city."
My pussy drooled so much I was afraid of messing up the imported fabrics.
The door groaned shut behind Kylo. His fingers traced down my bare skin, carefully zipping me into the garment that pooled on the floor around me. It was a velvety black dream, a strapless gown that clung to my curves and made me feel like I was ready to accept an Oscar. I felt his heat seep into my back and goosebumps scattered across my skin. I shivered under his touch, but I refused to let him see me sweat—literally or figuratively.
"What do you think?"
"You look stunning," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.
I bit my lip nervously and I glanced around the room, trying to find something else to focus on besides him. But he was quick to react, grabbing my jaw and forcing my eyes back to his.
"Don't look away from me," he growled and his fingers dug into my skin softly. "Not again."
We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Ansel appeared, a look of wonder in his eyes as he saw me in the lavish dress. "Are you guys ready?"
"As ready as a 4 AM booty call." I smirked.
Ansel rolled his eyes, but I could see a hint of amusement in his expression. "Let's hope you can keep those legs together tonight."
"Well, if you're done admiring each other," Kylo grumbled and his hand lingered on my hip possessively, "We have a party to crash."
The restaurant's chandelier cast a kaleidoscope of colors across our table—a distraction I didn't need. Across from me, Kylo played the part of my enamored date with an ease. His fingers brushed mine as he handed me the wine list, but it wasn’t the vintage reds that made my pulse race.
"Remember, we're here for Yorke," Kylo murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear. The reminder was pointless; the memory of last night's threesome was a relentless undertow that dragged my focus under.
My eyes scanned the room. Somewhere in the sea of luxury and fake smiles, Yorke lurked, but all I could think about was how Ansel and Kylo had made me come undone mere hours ago.
Focus, Averill. Clearing my dad's name, avenging my mom—those were the goals, not reliving the way Kylo's teeth had grazed my?—
His hand landed on my knee, and I snapped back to the present. "Thinking about it again?" Kylo’s thumb traced circles on my inner thigh.
"Maybe," I tried to sound annoyed rather than aroused. "It's not exactly easy to forget."
"Good," he breathed out and his fingers inched higher, hidden beneath the table. I stiffened and my fork clattered against my plate. "Because ever since I first felt your cunt squeezing me, I haven't been able to think about anything else."
"Kylo," I warned quietly through gritted teeth as heat pooled between my thighs at his words.
"Relax," he laughed and his hand moved further up my leg until his thumb grazed the edge of my panties. "I'm just being a good husband, taking care of my wife's needs. Shhh." His other hand reached for his glass, a perfect picture of nonchalance as one finger slipped beneath the silk barrier of my underwear, teasing the soaked lips he found there.
