His eyes flickered to mine. “Jesus Christ exactly.”
I’d been so focused on the look on his face as he stared at me, I hadn’t even noticed he was in a tux. A nice-fitting one that made me think of James Bond and Italian runways. “Your mom picked that out?”
“Well, I picked it out. She just gave it the female stamp of approval.” Soren glanced down at himself like he was expecting to find some garish stain or tear. “Am I way off the mark?”
“No.” My hands folded together in front of me because they wanted to reach out and touch him. “You look . . .” Like sin in flesh form? Like sex wrapped in a suit? Lickable? “Nice. You look nice.”
“Nice?” He held out his arms and took himself in. A hint of dejection settled into his expression.
“I take it back,” I said, giving him another once-over. Nice was the last word I’d use to describe the way he looked. “You look . . .” My eyes met his and I tried to mirror the same crooked smile he’d mastered. “Jesus Christ.”
Soren tipped his chin. “I knew it.”
“Well. you’ve never been one to lack in self-confidence.”
“No, siree.” He moved toward me, his shiny dress shoes drumming across the floor. “So what help did you need with with the dress?” He paused in front of me, appraising the dress like it was a sophisticated equation.
“Oh. Actually.” I took a breath and turned around. “I need help with the back.”
A rush of air hissed from his mouth. “Fuck me with a crowbar and call me Daddy.”
“What?” My head twisted toward him.
“Exactly.” He shook his head, eyeing the corseting trailing down my spine. Then he held out his hands and popped his knuckles. “Okay, okay. So you’re working the whole temptress in the front, seductress in the back thing. Good look for you,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he reached for the corseting. “But would you mind wearing a jacket tonight and just keeping it on all night?”
“Why?” I tried not to grin at the way he was clearly stumped by what to do next. His hands were frozen in the middle of my back, unmoving.
“I don’t really want to spend the first night of ten life sentences in prison tonight.”
“What does that have to do with the back of my dress?”
“It has to do with me gouging out the eyes of every creeper who runs them over you with a certain look in his eyes.”
“Just start at the top, pulling each place the ribbon crosses tighter. Work your way down until it ties at the bottom,” I instructed when he started tugging at one of the end pieces of the ribbon. “What certain look in their eyes?”
“You know what certain look. The one that says he’s picturing doing the nasty with you right then and there.” Soren’s fingers tugged at the top of the corseting, just hard enough to force a gasp from me. “You know, the way I just looked at—” His throat abruptly cleared, his fingers tugging on the next section of ribbon. “Yeah, so, don’t forget a jacket, okay?”
Don’t smile. Do not smile.
I was totally smiling. Thankfully, he couldn’t see it. “I’ll bring a jacket.”
“Wear it. Don’t just bring it. Wear it.” He’d almost made it to the bottom of the corseting, and for a guy who’d been a corset virgin before this, he’d picked it right up. “This corset thing is kinda kinky, girlie. Like, it’s got me wondering if you keep chains and whips in one of those bags of yours. The type who will keep a guy chained in her basement when she’s older.”
My head turned over my shoulder. “I thought I was an innocent lamb?”
“So did I. But now I’m not so sure.”
“The dress changed your mind on that? One small component of a dress?”
“The dress, and maybe other stuff.”
My heart stalled. What other stuff? Could he read minds? Had he been listening in on me late at night when I thought he was asleep and maybe giving that self-love thing a try? Crap. Had he seen the underwear I’d bought that still had the tags on them? The ones I might have been saving in case anything ever came of us?
“What other stuff?” My voice squeaked as I said it.
Soren tied the ribbons into a bow at the bottom. “The chains and whips you keep stuffed in your bag.”
I sighed. He was messing with me. He wasn’t serious. I needed to get a grip.
“Anything else?” he asked, lingering behind me for a moment before coming around in front.
“I’m all set.”
His face pulled up at the same time he stepped closer. “The heels. You’re killing me with those things.” Soren waved his hand above our heads. With my heels, I was taller than him. “My ego is relying on you putting on something that doesn’t look like it was meant to hunt wild boar with or, better yet, flats. Aren’t those in fashion right now?”
“Sure, they’re in fashion. If you’re wearing jeans and visiting the park for the day.” I made it a point to stand up even taller.
His frown deepened. “Fine. But I’m sending my therapy bills to you.”
“Fair enough.” The mermaid skirt swished around me as I hustled to grab a jacket and clutch from my room. “All set? Because we’re already going to be late even if the cab goes twenty over.”
“Fashionably late? You fashion people invented the term, for crying out loud.” Soren helped me into my jacket, making sure to tuck the back down so it covered the corseting.
“Fashionably late is fifteen minutes. Not an hour,” I replied, wincing when I saw the time on my phone.
He waved it off like it was no big deal after locking the door behind us. “Ah, shit. I forgot to stop by Mrs. Lopez’s apartment.” He paused at the top of the stairway, glancing down the hall.
That familiar stab of jealousy cut me. “What was it today?”
“Drippy kitchen faucet.” Soren sighed before turning his head and following me down the stairs.
“The apartment manager’s supposed to take care of that kind of stuff. Why does she call you every other day when she needs something?” I hadn’t known jealousy had a sound until I heard it echoing in my voice. Mrs. Lopez. Soren was down there “fixing” something every few days, it seemed. I’d never seen her, but in my head, she was an exotic beauty with voluptuous curves that reduced the male species into a drooling, fawning mob.
“The apartment manager fixing stuff. That’s a good one.” Soren snorted, coming up beside me to help hold up the hem of my dress as I moved down the stairs.
“I just don’t know why you’re the only one who can fix whatever it is she needs fixed.”
Soren’s head turned toward me. “She doesn’t have anyone else.”
“But she has you?”