Page 82 of Just for the Cameras
Marty waves her hand. “It’s all taken care of. If you ever need us for another event, you have our card.”
“I do. Thank you.”
They let themselves out, and I go to my bedroom, grateful Everly helped me with my strapless bra before she left because that would have been a bitch to get on myself with this stupid splint.
“Oh shit,” I say just as I remember I need help zipping up the rest of the dress. I was going to ask Marty to help but completely forgot.
Maybe they haven’t gone far. I quickly put the dress on and head toward my door, just as there’s a knock.
Oh thank God, they must have forgotten something.
I open the door and say, “Thank goodness—” My words fall short as Graydon stands in front of me in an all-black suit, black button-up shirt, and black tie. His hair is styled into that perfect fauxhawk of his and he smells like he just climbed out of a fancy parlor where business dealings take place.
His dark, smoky eyes roam over my body as he takes me in, stealing my breath right from my lungs as they stutter over my legs, at my waist, and then all the way up to my eyes.
“Umm…you’re, uh, you’re here,” I say, really unsure how to handle this because, wow, he looks so freaking good in a suit.
A suit that must be bespoke because it fits every part of his body perfectly.
“I told you I’d pick you up,” he says, his cologne penetrating every functioning brain cell I have.
“You did.” I nod. “Yup, that’s right, you did say that. I just thought we landed on something else, but you know, who cares, you’re here now, so, um…do you want to come in?”
“Would rather not stand out here and wait.”
My expression falls as my brain cells start functioning again. “A simple yes would have sufficed.”
God, insufferable.
I turn around, about to head back into my bedroom when he moves in behind me and gently tugs on my good wrist, keeping me in place.
Stunned, I whirl around to look up at him when my hand lands on his chest, and his expression softens.
Not saying a word, he slowly and deliberately turns me around so myback is to his chest. I suck in a sharp breath as his knuckles rub against my bare back right before his fingers close around the zipper of my dress. With his other hand on my waist, he glides the zipper up slowly until the dress is firmly in place.
My breath ceases to exist as his hands gently slide down my sides, to my waist, and then turn me around to face him again.
“Need anything else?” he asks, the darkness in his eyes penetrating, but no longer bordering on angry.
Oh my God, why does it feel like my heart is about to pop out of my chest?
I wet my lips, my nerves jumping around inside me. “Umm, no. Just going to slip on my shoes quickly.”
“Okay,” he says as he takes a step forward, crowding my space and then shutting the door behind him. I stand there, staring into his eyes, the energy coming off him powerful, intimidating, making me feel broken, like I don’t know how to walk anymore.
He wets his lips as well, not breaking eye contact, just slipping his hands in his pockets, his chest moving up and down.
It’s the longest few seconds of my life, just me and him, tension, electricity bouncing between us. I have a deep awareness that we’re in my apartment, dressed up, but all I am thinking about is how much I want to undress him.
And that’s new.
Because I haven’t thought of him that way.
I’ve always thought of him asthe ass.
The beautiful ass, but an ass nonetheless.
I’ve never considered what it might feel like to undo his tie, to unbutton his shirt, to take off his belt. And yet, here I am, all those thoughts pulsing through my head, all because he shows up at my place in a suit…and zips up my dress.
