29. Lilah #3
“That’s my cue.” Erik spun to run away and slammed face-first into the glass. He shot me a thumbs-up with his hand covering his nose and closed the door. “I’m good,” he said, voice muted by the glass and his hand.
Then Mason stepped out of the doorway to the bedroom. Suddenly, the space had barely enough room to breathe. I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
Every inch of the room was swallowed up by his presence. He wore a suit with intricate brocading that brought out even more blues in his eyes. The suit’s tailoring and the colors made my fingers itch to touch them.
I walked to him with my feet barely touching the floor like I was dragged by an uncontrollable magnetic force. He caught my hand and bowed, bringing it to his lips.
A full-body heated flush swept over me. My stomach tumbled and fluttered with a whole swarm of butterflies.
“They’re beautiful and too much, Mason.”
“They’re not enough.”
“How did you pull all this off?”
“Called in a few favors. I don’t blow all the money I get and Alena might’ve let me burn through a little of her shopping account.”
“This was a lot to arrange on such short notice. These shoes all because I got into college?”
“When are you going to learn you deserve to be celebrated no matter what? And some of this might’ve been in the works already.”
I couldn’t stop looking at the transformed room that made me feel like we were at a Venetian masquerade ball. I didn’t deserve any of this. But I swallowed the urge to say that and instead thanked Mason with a hug and kiss.
His scent, his touch, the beat of his heart against mine blotted out everything else.
“It’s a lot.”
“Wait until you see your dress.”
“Mason!” My screech of surprised outrage only widened his smile.
He took the shoes from me and walked me to the bedroom. “I figured handling all the little details was the only way to get you to go to prom, so Lilah Byrd, will you go to prom with me?”
He took me by the shoulders and turned me toward a dress fitted on a tailor’s form with details and fine touches that had to have taken ages to create. The seam work and pleating were almost too beautiful to touch. Almost.
“Paige helped me with a little recon. She let me know what you liked or didn’t like about her dress. Your suggestions and well…”
I got my hands in there and spent more time lifting layers and investigating construction. The seamless stitchwork on the boning in the bodice added structure without being too obvious. Paige’s insistence I try on dresses with her and come along at all made so much more sense.
“How’d I do?”
I stared at the beautifully detailed piece tallying the hours and hours of work this took. “The bodice embroidery. This lace.”
Then I remembered there was an incredibly hot guy behind me, dressed in a stunning suit, who’d put this all together for me and I was inspecting stitchwork. Chest flushed with embarrassment, I spun to face Mason.
He looked at me with a lighthearted glint in his eyes and a smirk.
I let go of the sleeve I’d been analyzing. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for geeking out over what you love. You want to put it on now?”
“Me? Now? No way. I—” My gut reaction was to say it was too much and I can’t accept it. But for once I wanted to give in. Longed to let myself get carried away by the whirlwind. “It’s too pretty.”
“It doesn’t even come close.” He clasped both hands behind his back. “Well, if you won’t wear it tonight, then that means you’ll have to wear it to prom.” He held out another scroll.
Fingers tingling, I took it and unrolled it.
Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to prom?
Taking my time, I stared at the words and put on my best thinking face. Then I slowly rolled the paper back up, making sure it was extra tight.
Mason shifted with impatience.
I tapped the end of the scroll against my lips and scrunched my face in deep thought. Meanwhile, the only thing going on in my head was an overwhelming urge to jump onto Mason.
“This torture won’t be forgotten.”
I burst out in laughter. “Of course, Mason.” I jumped on him and he caught me. Then I blanched and scrambled away, not wanting to wrinkle his suit.
“Will you seriously not try on the dress?”
I ran my fingers down the embroidered sleeve. “No, this deserves a special occasion.”
“Every day with you is a special occasion.”
I shook my head. “I already said ‘yes.’”
“I mean it, Lilah. If you don’t want to put on the dress, at least try on the shoes.”
“Okay.” I sat on the chair beside the dress—my dress—and toed off my shoes. “But you’ll have to catch me if I fall on my butt trying to wear these things.”
“I’ll always catch you.” Mason got on one knee in front of me and held out a shoe. The light caught the small stones in the floral design and I tried not to think about what they might be made of.
His fingers cupped my heel and sparks of anticipation traveled up my leg.
I pointed my toe and he slipped on the shoe. It was cushioned and fitted perfectly. “How does it feel?”
“Good.” My voice came out a cracked squeak. I cleared my throat.
With the brush of his knuckle across my arch and the molten look in his eyes, my breath caught.
“And now?”
I tore my gaze away from his, whole body heating and going into overload. “They’re perfect.”
He fiddled with the buttons of his jacket. “If you’re not getting changed, then I should probably take this off before I spill food on it.”
I mentally lunged for the distraction from Mason undressing in a room with a very comfortable looking bed. “There’s food?”
He shot me a disbelieving look. “What kind of prom-posal would this be without food? It’s warming in the oven.”
“I’ll get that. You change.” I stepped toward the doorway.
Mason slipped off his jacket and pulled at the tie.
I was transfixed in the doorway as a fizzy tingling went off between my ribs like someone had shaken a can of root beer.
He kicked off his shoes and my mind flashed to our night in the hot tub.
He straightened and took a step closer. “Planning on staying?”