Chapter Twenty-Eight Callum #2
“You bet I am.” I use my hand on her neck to tilt her head back, bringing her lips closer to mine.
She gazes up at me, her breasts pressing against my chest with each breath.
Those big blue eyes flicker to my lips, sending a wave of lust straight to my dick.
Lowering my head, I take her mouth in a kiss, drinking her in. She tastes so sweet, and lush.
Peaches and cream.
Her hands slide up my chest to clasp around my neck.
She’s been disturbingly subdued this whole trip, the smart mouth of hers too quiet and polite. The unease of shopping in a bigger body has dampened her spark, and I can’t help but miss it.
Each comment I make that goes without one of her witty remarks or a one-liner paired with a saucy smile, digs under my skin and weighs heavy on my chest like a stack of bricks.
This isn’t the Lexie that’s blazed into my life and chipped away at my control with her pretty pink nails until she’s wedged herself permanently in my head.
I want her smile to go back to its blinding megawatt status.
“Take off your clothes,” I order against her lips. She lets out a breathy laugh, and one of the bricks falls from my chest.
“Nice try, Russo,” she says between kisses. “I’m sure fucking in the dressing rooms is frowned upon in a place like this. I’d hate to get you kicked out of your favorite store, Walter would be so disappointed.”
There she is.
I can’t help but laugh, amusement flooding through me. “I’m going to be inside that perfect pussy of yours again soon, Dewdrop.” My hand slides down to palm her round ass greedily, making her gasp softly against my lips. “But right now you have dresses to try on.”
“You can’t be serious.” She leans back to look up at me, her expression questioning my sanity.
“I’m always serious,” I remind her, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips. Untangling my hand from her hair, I step back. The defiance that flashes across her face tells me she’s about to protest, so I cut her off as I back out of the room. “Start with the blue one.”
Closing the curtain behind me, I take a seat on the sofa facing her fitting room.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s glaring at the closed curtain wrestling between the idea of telling me to go to hell or just trying on the dresses to get this over with.
I’ll gladly take either option. One way or another, she’s putting each of those dresses on before we leave here.
It takes a few minutes before I can hear Lexie moving around and fabric rustling. Her voice carries out to me, only a few of her words meant for me as she speaks.
“It’s so pretty, this color is stunning,” she gushes, making me grin. Her appreciation for anything pretty or sparkly never gets old; it fuels my enjoyment more than I could enjoy something on my own. “Ugh, it doesn’t fit. These damn boobs,” she grumbles.
“Come out and show me.”
“It won’t zip, my boobs are too big.”
“Let me see, Lexie.” I can hear her disgruntled exhale before the heavy curtain is being pulled aside.
The powder-blue silk dress fits her like a second skin, accentuating her dramatic curves.
The elegant hem ends just above her knee with a generous slit up one thigh, webbed with delicate chains dotted with pearls.
She holds the top to her chest, her breasts on full display with the open sweetheart neckline that leads to the off-the-shoulder sleeves made of tulle, dotted with the same tiny pearls.
The soft blue color matches her eyes, enhancing luxurious long blonde hair and that peaches-and-cream skin that always smells incredible.
She looks absolutely stunning, even without the dress zipping all the way.
“I’m buying you that dress.” I can’t take my eyes off her. Fucking angelic.
“What part of ‘it doesn’t fit, my boobs are too big’ are you not understanding?” she asks, exasperation tinting her tone with attitude. I ignore her, waving Walter over instead. The attendant places the tray of ice water down on the table beside my chair, turning attentively.
“Walter, we want this dress altered. It needs to be ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Callum.”
Neither of us acknowledge Lexie’s protest. Walter simply nods to me.
“Of course, sir. I’ll send our seamstress, Lauren, in to take her measurements. Are there any other dresses you’d like custom fitted?”
I look over at Lexie, imagining the possibilities. “Not yet, but we’ll have our selection ready for alteration before we leave.” Lexie looks at me curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“Go try on the next dress, I want to see it.”
“You want a fashion show?” Lexie jokes, breathing out a skeptical laugh. I grin at her, my brows jumping.
“Absolutely. And this time give me a little twirl while you’re at it.” She just shakes her head at me and disappears behind the curtain. The shuffling inside the dressing room is accompanied by mumbling as Lexie talks to herself.
“This one doesn’t fit right either,” she calls.
“I want to see,” I insist. She steps out, unable to maintain her frown despite her sigh. My eyes run over her, taking my time to admire the emerald-green color against her skin.
“It zips, but the top doesn’t fit right.
” She gestures to how her breasts spill out of the molded cups of the structured bodice.
My gaze roams past her beautiful chest to how the fabric nips in at her waist and skims over the fullness of her hips and soft stomach, then flows almost to the floor.
I lift a finger and motion for her to spin.
“Where’s my twirl?” She rolls her eyes, but spins for me anyway. I don’t miss how she bites back a smile, and I make no attempt to hide my own. My grin grows as she turns in a circle, giving me a 360-degree view of her lush body. “Add that for alterations,” I instruct. “Next dress.”
Five more dresses, five more times she emerges to show me with a twirl.
Four of the dresses fit, while one of them is a hard no between design and color.
Despite herself, Lexie’s having fun—but not more fun than I’m having.
Watching her step out in each dress, getting to see her full figure in different silhouettes, is one of the best times I’ve ever had shopping.
She thrills and gushes over the smallest details, whether it’s the fabric quality or intricate bead work, and her joy is infectious. Making Lexie happy makes me happy.
Lauren, the in-house seamstress, takes Lexie’s measurements and we hand off two dresses for alterations. Four dresses are boxed up to carry out with us, six dresses total.
Walking out of the store, my hand finds its way around her waist, and I realize I’m nowhere near ready for our shopping trip to be over.
I want to see more.
So next comes shoes. Lexie, of course, picks the pairs with the most added details—glitter, rhinestones, bows. Beaming at me over glittery pink stilettos, she says, “They’re not really impractical if they make you feel pretty.” A statement I have no intention of arguing with.
And damn, does she look pretty in sparkly shoes.
Each pair is the definition of sensual femininity as she puts them on and struts up and down like the aisle is a catwalk.
Her little poses and bouts of laughter when she tries on a ridiculous pair just for the hell of it feed my ever-growing addiction.
I could watch her like this all day, every day, and never get bored.
And looking at how many hours have passed, I’ve already started.
Jewelry, handbags, perfume, cosmetics, I try everything I can think of to extend our day together, to keep her laughing. She protests every time I swipe my black card, but her frown of disapproval vanishes the instant she’s adding a shopping bag to the growing collection.
Helping her into the car to head back to the hotel is oddly disappointing. I’ve never liked shopping before, and I still don’t. But shopping for Lexie is different. I like that.
“I had fun today,” Lexie says. “Thank you, Callum.” The smile on her face is exhilarating, and I want more. She beams and I’m hungry to feel that warmth like an addict jonesing for a hit. If I can keep her smiling like this for the rest of my life, I’ll die a happy man.
“You can thank me properly when we get back to the hotel.”
“Is that why you did all this? So I’ll let you fuck me again, maybe get your cock sucked this time?” She’s curious instead of accusatory. My grip shifts on the steering wheel, tension settling across my shoulders. Her question is simple enough; it’s the answer that’s complicated.
“No.” I don’t bother lying, there’s no point.
“Then why? You hate wasting time and money. Why did you spend so much on me today?”
“For you, it’s never a waste.” The truth is heavy on my chest. I pull my eyes from the road to look at her. There they are again, those messy emotions slowly unraveling my tightly wound control. “I’ll always give you what you need, Dewdrop.”