Page 42 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)

THIRTY-THREE

I’m hunched over in arguably one of the most unattractive positions, trying to shave the back of my knee in the shower.

I always nick myself back there, but I’ve found contorting my body to bring my hand as close to parallel with the underside of my leg tends to avoid bloodshed.

I press the razor to my skin and hear, “Is it wet in here or is it just me?” I gasp in shock, and the razor skids sideways, cutting through my skin like butter.

I hiss at the nick and pull back the shower curtain a bit to glare at him.

“What? What happened?” Dean asks, the playful smirk falling.

I stick my leg out, a thin red stream running down my calf, and wiggle the razor in answer.

He winces and says, “Sorry. I thought this would be a sexy surprise. Not a bloody one.”

I close the curtain again and stick my bleeding leg under the spray of the shower, grumbling, “It’s alright.

I know you weren’t trying to get me to cut myself.

” Deciding that the back of my knee can be a forest for all I care, I hang my razor on the wall mount and begin rinsing the deep conditioning treatment out of my hair. At least it stopped bleeding already.

“How was your nap?” I ask, twisting my hair into a thick rope to wring the water out of it.

“Good. I’m noticing I don’t have to spend as long there to recharge. I saw you last this morning, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning off the shower. “That’s nice.

You can spend most of your time here, then.

Has to be less boring.” I swipe my towel off the hook next to the shower, pulling it through a crack in the curtain.

I know he’s seen everything, but I’m not quite ready for casual nudity. Which makes me wonder…

“Hey. When you said you watch me, even when I don’t know you’re there, does that mean you’ve, like… seen me naked when I didn’t know it?”

Dean looks at me appalled. “No. I did not creep on you without your consent. Whenever it looked like you were going to get naked or, um—do something you wouldn’t want company for, I would leave.

Or at least go further away in your apartment.

” He hitches a thumb in the direction of my kitchen and living room.

“But you knew where my vibrator was,” I point out.

He quirks a smile and nods. “Yeah, that’s when I decided I should probably go find something else to entertain me.”

I purse my lips and nod curtly in response, glad at least that he didn’t stay to enjoy the show. Or… I don’t know. Maybe I’m a little disappointed. But that sounds crazy, so let’s go with relieved.

“Okay well, I need to get ready for tonight. So go find something else to do,” I say, making a shooing motion towards the door. If he stays and I’m naked, I won’t make it to the ball.

He leans in, feathering a staticky kiss against my brow, and poof!

he’s gone. Then, I get out my arch-nemesis: the blow dryer.

I try to avoid using it whenever I can because I can’t stand the noise or the way it makes me sweat.

But today I’m planning on curling my hair in long, loose waves, so it’s a necessity.

I turn it on, grimly resolved to get the job done.

“Motherfucking fuck ,” I grit out, arms contorted towards the middle of my back where the zipper on my dress is stuck.

I scrabble my fingers closer, wishing that I had taken Aunt Clarissa up on her offer to join her for yoga on Saturdays.

Angry sweat collects under my arms and between my thighs, and I’m about one second away from Hulking out of this dress and wearing sweats.

“Dean!” I call, mourning the big reveal moment I had been envisioning for weeks now. He’s never seen me fully dressed up before, and I wanted to have it be this movie moment. Instead, he’ll get me sweaty and half-zipped, with the zipper caught on my shape-wear.

He pops in front of me and does a double-take. “Wow, you look…”

“Haggard?” I supply, blowing a rogue tendril of hair out of my face.

“Gorgeous,” he counters.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not even done yet. ”

He steps closer, until the toes of his polished shoes nudge against my strappy heels. “Take the compliment,” he murmurs before taking my chin in his hand and brushing a light kiss against my lips.

I drop my arms with a sigh, feeling the blood rush back to my aching biceps. “Can you please finish zipping me up? We’ve had a grave mechanical error.”

He steps around me and zips my dress up in one swift motion, and then settles his hands on my shoulders.

I look at the two of us in the mirror. With his perfectly tailored suit and my blood-red gown, we look ready to dash off into one of my fantasy romances.

Although, his shirt could probably be more frilly.

Piratey, even. But real-world Dean will more than do.

“I very much like this dress,” Dean says in my ear, thumbs gliding under the off-the-shoulder straps.

“Yeah? I was hoping so. You don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his intense focus.

I watch in the mirror as his eyes trace down the plunging cutout of the dress, which reveals the very tips of my sternum tattoo.

A faint flush reddens his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Dammit, Rae. I’m fucking flabbergasted.

How am I supposed to have any coherent thoughts when you look like this?

” His hands glide over my ample hips, and he shimmies me a little so the dress fans out.

“Actually, yes. I do think it’s too much. ”

My stomach sinks. “Oh,” I say, feeling all kinds of disappointed. I lower my eyes, hoping he doesn’t read the embarrassment in them.

“It’s too much because how am I supposed to handle it if anyone stares at you for too long tonight?

The most I can manage with anyone else is a little shovel shaking, but I’ll want to scoop someone’s eyes out if they look anywhere below your neck,” he says and then frowns.

“Nose, actually. I’ll want to cause bodily harm to anyone who looks too long below your nose.

Your lips are just too fucking perfect with that red lipstick.

” He places the pad of his thumb against my lower lip, and I bite it gently. He withdraws his hand with a groan.

“So it’s too much because it makes you feel possessive?” I ask, eyebrow raised and butterflies pressing against the walls of my stomach.

He just grunts in answer, spinning me away from the mirror to face him.

“Yes. But it also makes me want to show you off. You are always beautiful, but tonight you’re extraordinary.

I hope you have fun. I’ll be around, attempting to ring the neck of anyone who gets too close or looks too hard,” he says, eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Never in my life would I have thought I’d find the threat of violence hot, but here we are,” I quip, dipping my finger in his dimple playfully.

“First time for everything,” he replies.

His face softens as he looks at me, running his thumb along my jaw.

He kisses me chastely, at first. But when I suck in a breath and drag him closer, he follows my lead and nips at my lower lip until I open for him.

Just when I’m about to give up on the ball altogether, he says, “Go. Do what you need to do. And then tonight I want to see what this dress looks like on the floor.”

I breathe out a laugh at his line before turning to the mirror for one final check.

I sigh when I see the state of my lipstick, heading for the bathroom to get a makeup wipe.

I make quick work of the repair job, take one last look in the mirror, and swipe my phone off the counter.

A glance at the time makes me hurry my steps.

“Okay, time to go. Thanks for the assist,” I say, blowing him a kiss.

“Anytime, Alderwood,” he drolls, following me out the door.

He wasn’t joking about watching me tonight. Cool. No pressure.