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Chapter twenty-five

Anna

A mrita absolutely nailed the shiny Hollywood waves. The clingy garnet fabric of my dress hugs me in all the right places. A boatneck style draws the eye up to my red lips and glittering drop earrings. As I walk through the lobby of the hotel my gold pumps peek out from the hem of the rich, slinky fabric. Chris holds his arm steady so I can walk more gracefully across the polished lobby flooring. He’s looking unreal in a perfectly tailored suit. The cut of the black jacket emphasising his broad shoulders and hinting at the flat abs I know are beneath.

“You look utterly beautiful,” he whispers in my ear as we walk into the ballroom.

Goosebumps spread across my skin.

He’s already complimented me a dozen times since we left, and I doubt I’ll get sick of it anytime soon.

“Thanks,” I squeak out.

A large seating chart leads us to our table near the back of the ballroom. We’re the first people to take our spots at the heavily decorated round table. Chris pours me a glass of chilled white wine that I take tiny sips of to keep my lipstick intact.

“What are you wearing under that fancy dress?” he asks in a low tone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” My voice is light and teasing.

Heat sinks through the fabric of my dress as he settles his right hand on my thigh.

I sit up straighter in my chair, light classical music audible over the low chatter in the gradually filling room. When the hem of my skirt tickles my shins, I realize what he’s doing.

“Chris,” I hiss. “You’re going to wrinkle the fabric,”

He takes another big handful of velvet, gathering it higher.

“I asked a question and I intend to find out the answer.”

Nervously, I glance around the room. Our table is far back, a blocked-off door at my back. Nobody is paying us any attention. I scoff but do nothing to stop him. Handful by handful, the floor length dress rises, exposing my pretty shoes, then my calves, then my knee. He’s only taking very quick glances over at his progress, taking the odd sip of his wine. My hair feels hot against my shoulders, despite the air-conditioned room. My chest is heaving, my thighs pressed together. I bite my lip, waiting for the moment that he sees the decidedly less modest garment I’m wearing underneath this gown. His fingers still when they discover the fabric of the garter on my mid-thigh. The set fits perfectly. I was worried the lines of the fabric, or the tiny hooks would be visible beneath the snug dress. But when I slipped everything on tonight, I knew we had a winner. He plucks the fabric off my thigh one inch then lets it go. His eyes fly to mine at the sound, the subtle snap of the elastic louder than he probably expected. My legs part on their own. I can feel every inch of the lace where it wraps around each thigh and is connected to delicate straps that travel up my leg, over my hips, and around my waist. The panties, bra, and garter all match, the soft slightly stretchy lace pressing against my pussy and breasts in a way that makes me hyper-aware of the man’s hand on my thigh, toying with my lingerie.

“Fucking hell, Anna. ”

His eyes flare beneath the chandeliers as he replaces the dress, sweetly smoothing the knap of the velvet so I look as put together as I did when we sat down. The cold wine soothes my dry throat.

It’s going to be a very long night.