The shameless slut.
“Okay, I’m here. I’m dressed and ready to pretend I like you.”
Taylor chuckled. His smirk was cocky and infuriating all at the same time.
“It shouldn’t be hard to pretend when it’s not far from the truth, lass. Especially when you look like that.” His gaze raked my form, taking in every inch of the sparkling champagne-colored gown I wore. It fit like a glove and showcased my curves in a way I would have once been told was indecent.
“That’s what you think. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
"Oh, you wound me. You know, for a tiny wee thing, you certainly are vicious.”
“You must bring it out in me. In fact, I made you some cupcakes. Would you care to try them? They’re your favorite.” His eyes widened with excitement before he narrowed them. “Cardamom.”
He shook his head, a serious frown marring his brow. “You wouldn’t try to kill me. Not for real.”
“You already told me it won’t kill you. I just like to see you squirm.”
“You know, my wee wife, has it ever crossed your mind that it might not be hate you feel for me?”
“It did the first time we went out together.”
“And the second?”
I shook my head. “After that, I quickly realized the error of my ways.”
He let out a groan I could only call sexy and cupped himself. “God, but she’s trying to rile me up before sending me out to the firing squad.”
“I’m not trying to do anything, Taylor.”
“That’s what you say. But you’re still managing perfectly well.”
I needed to change the subject. I couldn’t deal with him.
“What about you? Is that what you’re wearing? How come I have to dress in black tie, and you get to just sit there looking like”—I waved up and down his body—“that.”
He was dressed in black slacks and a white button-down, complete with the sleeves rolled up to the forearm. Did he know I was a slut for hot forearms? Probably not. Or maybe the asshole did. I wouldn’t put it past him to use his body against me.
“I’m not quite ready yet. I was actually hoping you’d give me a little help.”
“Help with what?”
“Well, I’ve never been good at tying these things. Do you think maybe you could give it a go?”
The innocence in his voice had my whole body humming. That one gesture of vulnerability reminded me of the man I’d fallen hard for on our first date. Even if he’d revealed himself to be nothing like that in reality.
“I don’t understand why men insist on wearing this stuff.”
He laughed. “Do you have a problem with formal wear? How could that possibly offend you?”
“I don’t have a problem with it. Aside from how hot it is.”
“As in sexy?”
“Maybe.”
“What else could you possibly mean?”
“Well, hot as in actually warm.”