He ruffled his hair with amusement. “I don’t think I will. I bought you the clothes, I get to see the show.”
He stood there in front of me, surrounded by boxes and bags, the two beds on either side of us. Though the smile on his lips was playful, the look in his eyes was not. It wasn’t a mean look but it wasn’t soft. Each of his features stood out in their beautifully masculine way, all hard edges and second chances. This wasn’t the time for me to be bashful and he knew it.
Seeing as I was already in my underwear, a black pair that had cheeky coverage, I lifted my tank top above my head and let it drop to the carpeted floor. His gaze intensified, like a heat-seeking missile. I brought my hands behind my back, and as elegantly as possible, I undid the clasp and slipped my bra off of my arms, tossing it to the bed.
Though his gaze, his pose, his very being, reminded me of a wolf about to pounce, he didn’t move. I felt his eyes roam up and down my body like silk, sending shivers down my back. He was turning me on without laying a hand on me.
It wasn’t necessary for the dress, but I shimmied out of my underwear and stepped out of them. Now I was absolutely, completely nude, save for my bandaged leg. To anyone else I would have looked a bit silly. But not to Camden. I could see in the way he regarded me that I was nothing short of a phoenix coming out of the ashes, just like the one on his hips. Now I had become his tattoo.
I slowly walked over to him, owning my body as I never had before, shoulders back and head high. I gestured to the dress.
“Will you help me?”
He licked his lips; it was probably involuntary but it caused heat to flare between my legs, my own lips to part open. He reached over and picked the black dress up in his hands and leisurely unzipped the side of it, his eyes never leaving mine.
I raised my arms above my head, my bare breasts rising as I did so, surrendering to him. Our gaze never broke, and the heat only built, connecting us. He took the dress and carefully slipped it over my arms and pulled it down. His knuckles brushed against my nipples and I clenched my jaw, supressing the shudder that wanted to roll through me.
He dragged it down over my breasts and over my stomach, slowly, so slowly, like the fabric was an extension of his hands and lips. Every hair on my body was raised, my skin tense and wanting. He came closer to nudge it over my hips, letting his fingers rest on them as gravity took the remainder of the dress to the ground.
Now fully clothed, I lowered my arms. He was so close to me, too close. His hands burned on my hips.
“Thank you,” I whispered, breaking his heated gaze and looking at the ground.
“One more thing,” he said, breaking away. He bent down and rummaged through one of the bags and pulled out a jewelry box. Before I could say anything, he flipped it open and I saw a sparkling pair of diamond chandelier earrings nestled in dove grey velvet. I’d never had such sparkles so close to my skin.
And, even though Camden had bought it with stolen money, even though we were only dressing up so we could clean what he stole, this cemented my Cinderella comment. I felt like a princess.
“They’re beautiful,” I told him, taking the box from his hands, our fingers brushing against each other. “Thank you. I guess I better go make myself look pretty. I think I’ll put my hair up.”
He beamed and stepped away. “I hoped you might.”
I gave him a quick smile and ushered myself into the bathroom with my makeup kit. The minute I shut the door in the spacious, tiled room I exhaled loudly. My heart had been hammering a mile a minute back there, the tension building until I almost couldn’t take it. It was like the moment I decided to trust Camden was the moment I wanted to hand my body over to him again. I supposed the tattoo was the first step.
I pinned my hair up in sections then applied some classic makeup. Black winged liquid liner and red lipstick sealed the deal. The earrings were the world’s most beautiful accents, sparkling from the bathroom lights and reflecting on my shoulders like dancing pixie dust.
When I came out, I saw Camden by the bar, pouring a bottle of champagne into two flutes. I thought I’d heard the pop of the cork while I was in there.
He looked…well there was no point describing how he looked. It would never do him justice. It was Camden in an extremely well-tailored, suave and sexy tuxedo. The sheen of the black lapels, his bowtie coupled with his spiked-up black hair, his nose ring and the glasses—he was one bad-ass spy. I had to keep my teeth pressed together to prevent my jaw from dropping to the floor.
“Well, well, well, Mr. Bond,” I said as I slinked toward him.
“Well, well, well, Ms. Watt,” he said, handing me my champagne flute. The bubbles sparked and fizzed between us. “I think this town is about to get its hands dirty.”
We clinked our glasses.
CHAPTER NINETEEN