Chapter 42
forty-two
“Okay, so, are we going more for, like, sexy-classy… or are we going more for make-him-come-in-his-pants-as-soon-as-he-sees-you?”
I probably should have known better than to ask Tris for fashion advice.
But I am wildly out of my depth when it comes to picking an outfit for a date.
Because that’s what I have. A date. A real, live, pick-me-up-at-the-door, “the reservation’s at eight” date.
In fact, I’m fairly certain the only reason Marco cleared me to come to my apartment for the afternoon is so that he can pick me up like a proper suitor.
That and the video cameras all over the hallway.
I blink at my roommate. Tris assesses my expression and nods, all business. “Got it. He’ll have to change his pants before dinner.”
After a lot of bickering and at least three more references to Marco’s manhood, we eventually settle on one of the cocktail dresses I’ve never had the courage to actually wear—creamy satin covered in vibrant watercolor roses and dark green leaves.
“This will look ah-mazing with those titties of yours, Alley Cat.” Tris flings a lacy white bra at me and tilts her head. “If you skip panties, do you think your puss will freeze? It’s only, like, forty degrees outside, but you don’t want panty-lines in a satin dress.”
“I’m not going commando to a five-star restaurant,” I hiss, arranging my boobs in the bra before tugging my dress over it. The fabric skims my waist and floats away, flattering my hips and legs.
Up top, a loose, draped scoop-neck and thin straps reveal a lot more cleavage than I bargained for. Tris insists it’s fine, but I still feel partially naked… even after I add panties and a blood-red pashmina from Tris’s closet. She also shoves a pair of nude, strappy heels at me.
“Don’t bother with lip gloss until you’re in the car,” she advises, shrugging. “He’s just going to kiss it off the second he sees you.”
Marco’s heavy knock sounds at the front door. I do one last check in the mirror, debating the gloss. My reflection surprises me. With my hair carefully fluffed out, and just enough makeup to draw attention to my eyes, I almost look… good?
My date seems to agree. When I open the door, Marco’s impassive expression instantly falls off his face. His eyes flash as they flow over my hair, my chest, my dress.
Tris probably expected him to slam me into the wall and maul me the way one of her dates would. But Marco silently brings his gaze to mine, showing the intensity burning there. I can practically hear the sensual bent to his thoughts as his mouth tips up in his small smirk. Hi.
I feel myself grin. Hi.
He steps over the threshold, angling his big body around mine in a stance more intimate than any kiss. “These are for you,” he murmurs.
Marco lifts his left hand and brings a bouquet between our chests. For a second, I can’t focus on the flowers. I only see his onyx dress shirt and the casual way he’s left the top couple of buttons undone. Not to mention how the column of his throat meets his thick, muscled chest…
I blink, forcing my eyes down to the over-the-top arrangement in his equally large hand. It’s gorgeous. White orchids, spring lilies, and snowy snapdragons, each so pristine their petals sparkle.
They look so similar to one of the pictures I keep shamefully stashed under my bed, my cheeks heat. I finger the powder-blue ribbon tying the whole thing together, still not believing my luck. “You picked these out?”
“For you,” he says again, dropping his arm and my flowers to his side. “I’ll put them in water in a minute.”
Marco stares down at me like he can’t not. His gaze skims my lips before burning a path back to mine. “You’re exquisite.”
His knuckles brush over the blush flooding my face. Another small smile touches his features. Cute, he seems to say, amused by my rosy embarrassment.
I run a fingertip along the upturned corner of his lips. Unfairly handsome, I toss back mentally.
His eyes soften, reading my thoughts and pulling me closer with the arm twined around my middle. We stare at each other for an endless moment, somehow communicating things that can never be put into words.
He… likes me. Really likes me, if the glowing reverence in his dark gaze is to be believed.
Before long, a wolf whistle echoes from the hallway. Marco sighs, leaning his forehead into mine while he calls out, “Find somewhere else to be, Tris.”
“And miss the show?” she scoffs. “You clearly don’t know me very well, big boy.”
Wry amusement flashes across Marco’s features, but he never so much as glances her way. “What are the odds she leaves us alone?”
I bite down on a smirk. “Pretty much zero?”
“Alright then.” He presses one sweet kiss to my mouth. “Let’s get out of here.”