The curtain slid open and he looked up as Rosalind stepped out of the dressing room in the slinky dress.
He sat up, dropping the magazine to the side. The dress draped over her like a pale curtain, trailing behind her. She wore white heels that matched—he had no idea where they’d come from—and somehow they’d piled her hair on her head.
She was breathtaking. She was glorious. If she’d have walked down the aisle to him looking like that, he would have counted himself the luckiest man in the world.
He stood up, knowing his mouth was dragging on the floor. How had he ever thought wedding dresses weren’t sexy?
She knew how he felt, too. She gave him a sly smile as she stepped on the platform, turning her back to him.
The dress had no back. It pooled in waves of fabric at the top of her buttocks, revealing bare creamy skin.
He had to touch it. As though in a trance, he went to stand behind her, on the platform. He met her eyes in the mirror and trailed his fingers down her spine to the beginning of her curves. “Lovely.”
She hummed. “So you like?”
“Definitely.” He slid his hand inside to hold her waist.
“Enough to strip it off me?”
He could see the reciprocal awareness in her eyes, and the way her nipples had peaked under the thin material.
She glanced in the mirror, looking behind him, and stiffened.
The saleslady. He looked, too, but Virginia had discreetly left them alone.
Because they couldn’t go any further with the woman hovering outside, he dipped his free hand into the vee at the front.
Rosalind arched into his touch. “She may come back.”
He was counting on it, because it meant he could indulge without going too far. He nuzzled the nape of her neck, playing with the excited tips of her breasts.
Rosalind sighed, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder, enjoying his touch for a moment before pulling away. “I have another dress to try on.”
It was for the best. Withdrawing his hands took all of the willpower he had.
The moment he stepped through the curtain, Virginia came to check on them, going into the dressing room to help Rosalind into the dress.
When she finally reemerged, she took his breath away again. This time, she looked like a princess, fairy and sparkly in a fancy dress that trailed behind her like it floated on air.
He wanted to be her prince.
Rosalind climbed onto the platform, lifting the dress carefully and then shaking it back into place.
“I’ll let you discuss it,” the saleslady said with a polite smile, leaving them again.
Rosalind met his eyes in the mirror. “I never took myself for the fairy princess type, but this dress may change my mind.”
“You look beautiful in everything.”
“Well, it’s not a decision I need to make today.” Touching the edge of the neckline longingly, she lifted the dress again. “Help me unfasten it?”
“Yes.” He followed her into the dressing room and closed the curtain.
She turned her back to him, her gaze meeting his in the mirror. “The hooks are small.”
“I think I can manage,” he said, undoing the first one. They were more difficult than he’d expected, but he didn’t mind—every inch of her skin that was exposed was a gift to him.
And then when he got to the last hook, the top fell away completely, the dress pooling on the floor. She stood before him, topless, in red panties.
“It’s Christmas,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her. “And I must have been a good boy this year.”
“You better be a good boy now, Nick.” She wound her arms around his neck, her bare chest pressed against him. “Enough waiting.”
“I—”
“It makes me hot, you touching me while you’re dressed and I’m not,” she said, interrupting him. “It’ll be even hotter when you’re undressed and lying on top of me. Or under me, if you like. I’m good trying everything.”
It was like a dream come true—or a nightmare in this case, because he was going to touch her. Only pressed against him, he couldn’t keep his hands from roaming up her back, feeling the suppleness of her delicate form. “Okay,” he heard himself say.
“Your place,” she said before he could take it back. She grabbed her pants and gave him a kiss before pushing him out of the dressing room. She peeked out from the curtain. “This is a good thing, Nick. Trust me.”
“I do.” It was himself he didn’t trust.
By the time he’d reached his flat, he’d come to his senses.
Mostly.
Her hand in his, he led her to the front door. As he unlocked it, he felt her hands slide under his waist, under his coat and inside the waistband of his pants. He hissed in need as he felt her fingers dip low on his belly.