Chapter 12 — The Dress Comes Off
The Dress Comes Off
The drive back from Avery's took twenty minutes and felt like one long dare.
Penny kept her hand on my thigh the whole way.
Not teasing exactly. Not enough pressure to make me pull over and do something stupid in the dark.
Enough to keep me aware of the scarlet dress riding high on her legs, the warmth of her palm, the way she watched the road with that tiny smile at the corner of her mouth like she knew every filthy thought going through my head and approved of most of them.
"You're quiet," she said.
"Trying to get us home without committing several traffic violations."
Her fingers flexed against my thigh. "Responsible."
"Barely."
She laughed, soft and satisfied, and that was the problem. Penny Rourke didn't sound nervous. She sounded chosen. Claimed in public, loved in private, and ready for me to prove that none of it had been performance.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my cock was hard enough to make walking a negotiation.
Penny stepped out of the truck, the dress catching porch light and moonlight and every ounce of restraint I had left.
I met her at the front walk. She slipped her hand into mine, fingers interlacing like she had been doing it for years, and we made it up the steps with the kind of silence that was mostly breath and bad intentions.
I opened the front door.
The house was full.
Movie audio spilled through the family room, low and ignored. Popcorn. Wine. Someone laughing. Bare feet on hardwood. The warm cluttered sound of women who had stopped treating my house like a place they visited and started treating it like a place that had been waiting for them to arrive.
Kiki sat cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, golden hair loose over one shoulder, wearing one of my gray tees and a pair of cutoffs.
She had a tray of sliced apples and cheese in front of her, arranged with the calm competence of a woman who could turn snacks into a household system.
Her eyes moved from my face to Penny's dress to our locked hands.
Then she smiled.
"Hey," she said. "Good night?"
"Best night," Penny said.
The way she said it made the room tilt. Warm. Certain. A little smug. Kiki's smile deepened like she had already read the whole book and approved the ending.
Shay sprawled across the sectional in a navy shirt that used to be mine, one bare leg hooked over Tatum's lap, a bowl of popcorn balanced against her hip. "Late for movie night, Rourke."
"Sorry," Penny said. "I had boyfriend obligations."
Tatum made a strangled sound and bounced upright so fast popcorn went everywhere. Copper hair wild, freckles bright, towel wrapped around her shoulders like she had come in from the pool and forgotten clothing was a concept.
"Boyfriend obligations," Tatum repeated, delighted. "That sounds official. That sounds documented. That sounds like someone owes me details."
"No details," Kiki said.
"Some details."
"Not now," Shay said, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. "Pretty sure the details are about to happen upstairs, and if they don't get there soon, Penny is going to eat him in the hallway."
Penny leaned into my side. "I have manners."
"You have cheekbones and a dress designed by criminals," Shay said. "Manners aren't currently your leading feature."
Across the room, Reese sat curled into the armchair with her knees tucked under her, glossy chestnut hair catching the TV light. She wasn't laughing as loudly as the others. Her smile was there, warm and real, but her eyes had gone soft in a way that got under my ribs.
She was seeing it.
Not the sex. Not only that.
The house. Kiki at home on the floor. Shay wearing my shirt. Tatum half dressed and completely comfortable. Penny in my doorway with my hand in hers. A life that should have looked impossible, except it was sitting in front of her with popcorn crumbs on the couch and a bad movie on the screen.
"You look beautiful," Reese said to Penny.
Penny's hand tightened around mine. "Thank you, Reesie."
Reese's eyes flicked to me, then back to her. "Both of you."
Eden lounged at the far end of the sectional, dark hair twisted up, hazel eyes sharp over the lip of her wine glass.
She looked casual because Eden could make a bank robbery look like light social scheduling.
But her gaze moved over Penny's dress, my face, Kiki's bare feet under the coffee table, Reese's open expression.
Then she crossed one ankle over the other and smiled like none of it had touched her.
Which meant it had.
"Door was locked," Eden said. "We assumed you weren't out buying milk."
"No milk," I said.
"Shame. We're almost out."
I looked at her. "We're?"
Kiki lifted one hand without looking away from Penny. "We're all aware."
That did something to me. The simple way she said it.
The fact that nobody laughed like it was absurd.
My house had stopped being a place I came back to alone.
It had become a place where five women could be waiting in my family room, and the sixth could stand beside me in a dress I was about to take off her.
Penny saw whatever crossed my face. Her thumb brushed the back of my hand, a tiny stroke. Mine.
Kiki stood and crossed to us. She hugged Penny first, quick and tight, then touched my wrist in passing. "Water's on the nightstand."
"Kiki," Penny said, touched and amused.
"Practical romance is still romance." Kiki's eyes warmed. "Go. Be happy."
"Be loud," Tatum added.
"Tatum."
"What? I believe in emotional honesty."
Shay lifted her wine. "And structural integrity. If the bed survives, I'll be disappointed in both of you."
Penny laughed, but it came out breathless. Her body was pressed to my side now, too warm, too ready, and every second we stayed there made the air between us thicker.
Eden watched me over her glass. "Don't hurry on our account."
It sounded like permission. With Eden, everything sounded like three things at once. Permission. Challenge. Inventory.
Reese raised her water in a small toast. Her smile was happy for Penny, but the ache underneath it was plain enough to make me want to cross the room and promise her that the window wasn't closed.
Not tonight.
Tonight was Penny's.
Penny looked around the room, at the women who loved her, at the women who loved me, at the house that somehow held all of it without collapsing. Then she turned to me.
"Bedroom," she said softly.
My pulse hit like a fist.
"Now?" I asked.
"Unless you want me to make poor choices on the stairs."
Tatum clapped both hands over her mouth, vibrating with joy. Shay pointed at the ceiling like a referee granting advantage. Kiki tried to look stern and failed. Reese's smile went dreamy. Eden's eyes went darker.
I took Penny's hand and led her toward the hall.
Behind us, the movie kept playing. Nobody watched it. The house held laughter and popcorn and wine and five women pretending they weren't listening to our footsteps climb the stairs.
At the bedroom door, Penny tugged me close enough that her mouth brushed my ear.
"I want you to take your time," she whispered. "Then I want you to lose control."
That did it. Every last responsible part of me packed a bag and left.
I opened the door, pulled her through, and shut the world out behind us.
***
The bedroom went quiet around us.
Not silent. The family room was still below us, a low warm hum under the floorboards.
But up here, with Penny standing in front of me in that scarlet dress, the night narrowed until there was only her and the zipper I had been thinking about since she walked into Avery's party and took the oxygen out of the room.
She leaned back against the door and looked at me.
"You've been staring at this dress all night."
"I've been staring at you all night."
"Good answer." Her smile softened. "But the dress helped."
"The dress almost killed me."
"That was the plan."
I stepped into her space. She lifted her chin, eyes bright, mouth parted, the confident Penny still there and something more vulnerable underneath it.
The party had seen her. Men had stared. Women had stared.
Cameras had caught her from a dozen angles.
But this was different. This was a closed door, lamplight, her breath catching when my hands settled on her waist.
"Everybody got to look," I said. "I get to take it off."
Her pupils widened.
"Yes," she whispered.
I kissed her. Deep. Slow for about three seconds, then not slow at all. Penny made a hungry little sound and fisted both hands in my shirt, pulling me against her until her breasts pressed to my chest and the dress rustled between us like it resented being in the way.
Her mouth tasted like lip gloss and whiskey and heat. Her tongue met mine without hesitation. Penny had spent the whole night polished and brilliant and public. Now she kissed me like she had been counting the minutes until she could come apart in private.
I got my hands on her ass and lifted. She wrapped her legs around my waist, the dress sliding higher, her bare thighs hot against my sides.
"Bed?" I asked against her mouth.
"Eventually."
I laughed into the kiss and carried her there anyway.
She let me set her on her feet near the foot of the bed, then turned without being asked, offering me the long line of her back. Her hair fell over one shoulder. The tiny gold zipper sat at the base of her neck like a dare.
I put my mouth there first.
Penny shivered.
"Luke."
"I know."
I dragged the zipper down one inch at a time. Fabric loosened. Skin appeared. Her spine under my lips. The dip at the small of her back. The narrow line where the dress parted and her body waited underneath, warm and gold and trembling harder with every breath.
She gripped the bedpost.
"You're killing me."
"You wore this for me."
"I wore it so you'd do exactly this."