I’d put on makeup too, but I could have skipped the blush. My cheeks were flushed pink, and as I blinked at my wide-eyed image in the mirror, I saw how quickly my chest was rising and falling. Nerves swirled and rolled in my belly. Was I about to make a huge fool of myself?
Footsteps grew louder beyond the closed bathroom door, and Greg’s voice was concerned. “Cassidy?”
“Just a second.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear how breathless I sounded.
Had I forgotten how heavy the dress was, or was it what I was about to do that weighed me down? I dug a hand into the plunging neckline and repositioned my boobs into the cups sewn in the dress. I didn’t have much cleavage to work with, but I’d flaunt what I had.
I filled my lungs with a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door open. The skirt of the dress was layers of chiffon and stayed quiet when I stepped into the room. In fact, everything was dead fucking silent when Greg’s deep brown eyes turned toward me.
He didn’t blink. He stood motionless, a glass of red wine in each hand. His gaze was locked on mine, but I somehow felt it all over my body. I sensed it etching over every sparkling green bead that formed the intricate lace on the bodice, splitting into a deep V that showed more skin than I ever had in my life.
The prom dress had made my mother uneasy. She’d worried it was too mature. Too provocative and revealing, she’d said. But it was on clearance in my size, and after I’d tried it on, I hadn’t wanted to take it off. Ever. My dress made me feel sexy and powerful.
Maybe too powerful right now. The way Greg was looking at me, I wondered if I might kill him. My mouth felt like it’d been filled with paste, and I licked my dry lips. “This dress—” I said, my voice wavering, “—is the one you said made you think bad things.”
“Jesus, I remember.” His eyes were so wide, it had to hurt.
He just stood there, not saying anything else, and the moment stretched between us until it grew uncomfortable. Oh, God, this train was steaming at eighty miles an hour to wreck over the side of Awkwardsville Cliff.
I clenched and unclenched my fists at my sides, hidden in the layers of my skirt, trying to quell the nervous scream in my mind. I focused on one of the wineglasses in his hand. “Is that, uh, for me?”
“It was,” he said.
And finally, he moved, only it was to bring a wineglass to his lips and gulp the entire glass down in five loud swallows. If I wasn’t so mortified with the situation, I might have been impressed. He deposited the now-empty glass on the dresser and switched the full one to his right hand.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “This was so fucking stupid. I’ll change.”
It was as sharp as a scalpel. “No.”
His eyes darkened and focused with intensity, and . . . shit, he almost looked mad at me, like wearing the prom dress pissed him off. I swallowed thickly.
“What was the plan?” He might have looked pissed, but his voice wasn’t cold or angry.
“Plan?”
Greg stalked over. “Why are you wearing this dress?”
My gaze dropped to my bare feet. “Because of what you said.”
“So, you wanted to give me bad thoughts?” He grasped my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing my attention up to his face. “Because it’s fucking working.”
Gone was the slow, smoldering tension between us. It broke into a million pieces when his mouth landed on mine. He took and consumed me with his kiss, owning me like I was a possession. It was punishing and dominating. He claimed me exactly like I wanted. I rose on my toes to get closer, only to find myself stumbling backward, blinking in surprise.
He’d pushed me away so he could sit on the edge of the bed, and his gaze trapped me in place. “Go on, then,” he said. “Show me.”
I tripped over the confusion in my head. “Show you—?”
“What you’re wearing under your dress.”
A sound burst from me. It was a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. This was what I wanted, but I was still anxious. Having distance between us was sexy, yet also unnerving. I moved backward until the dresser was at my back, giving me something to lean against for support. As I balled the skirt into my fists, I stared at the man across from me.
He took a sip of his wine, turning his head to the side so he could hold my gaze. Like he didn’t want to break the connection with me, not even for a moment. I dragged the fabric up toward my hips, revealing inch after inch of my bare legs. His breathing ratcheted up as I cleared my knees. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a swallow when I exposed my thighs.