Chapter 11
Elexia
The boutique smells like expensive perfume and new fabric, the kind of place where everything costs more than my apartment, and the salespeople can sniff out your credit limit.
River is in her element.
Not me.
We’ve been here for an hour, and my arms are already full of dresses with River insisting it’s her treat. Liam is somewhere in the men’s section, probably charming the staff while River picks out suits for him like she’s dressing a Ken doll.
I managed to sneak away earlier and bought him a newsboy cap and a pair of fake glasses—just enough to keep him low-profile. The cap was $75, but I didn’t want River buying everything. When I handed them to him, such appreciation showed on his face like I’d given him the crown jewels.
“Smart girl.” He’d tucked a curl behind my ear. “And sweet girl.”
I can’t stop blushing around him. Everything is so new, but I don’t know if I want it to fade.
River declares it’s time for the main event: finding the perfect dress.
She’s already bought Liam a sleek black suit with a deep burgundy shirt, which will make him even more drop dead gorgeous. When he promised to pay her back with interest, she’d grinned and said, “That would be grand,” in the worst Irish accent. He was too entertained to correct her.
“Okay, babes.” River shoves me toward the fitting rooms with an armful of gowns. “Time to try these on. And I want a full fashion show.”
I groan. “River, I don’t need—”
“Yes, you do. Now get in there.”
She pushes me into a stall, then slips into the one next to mine. The walls don’t go all the way to the floor, so her heels visibly click against the tile.
I hang the dresses on the hook. They’re all beautiful. Elegant.
The kind I rarely ever wear, but love all the same.
I sink onto the small bench in the corner, burying my face in my hands.
“So,” River muses, casual but pointed. “Liam told me some very interesting things while you were getting dressed.”
I freeze. “What things?”
“Oh, you know. How he cooked you breakfast. Cleaned your apartment. Handcuffed you to the bed.” She pauses, and the mischief practically radiates from beyond the wall. “And something about bending you over a table and spanking you with a book?”
My face goes nuclear. “River!”
“You hit the jackpot, you know that, Lex?”
I don’t answer. I just sit there, staring at the floor, kneading my forehead.
The silence stretches.
“Oh no, you don’t, babes,” River scolds, her voice sharpening. She bangs on the wall, and I jump. “Do not start overthinking this like you always do. You’re not crawling back into your safe little hermit crab Cancer shell. Not this time.”
“River—”
“When will you learn that taking risks isn’t a bad thing?”
I fiddle with the ends of my braid. “Maybe since Brett. And my dad. And…maybe I’ve had enough of the universe shitting on me. I can’t deal with more damage.”
The heavy words hang in the air.
My dad left when my mom got sick. Just…up and left. Took a transfer. Walked out the door one day and never came back. I stayed. I dropped out of nursing school, moved back home, and took care of her. Watched her waste away. The world took everything from her—and from me.
And then Brett happened. Sweet and charming, at first, then manipulative, then controlling, then narcissistic.
The restraining order was supposed to make me feel safe, but it just made me feel… small. Scared. Broken.
So I retreated into my flower shop and my books. A safe, predictable world where no one could hurt me.
“Lex.” She’s gentler now. “You’ve lived vicariously through your books for too long. Now, you have a living, breathing, hot Irish danger heartthrob who cooks and cleans for you and leaves all the right marks on your ass.”
I smile to myself.
Something sharp jabs my leg. “OW!” I jump to my feet. “Did you just kick me with your heel?!”
“You listen, and you listen good, Lex.”
“It’s well,” I correct, rubbing my ankle.
“Shut up before I do that panties thing I once did in the Bloomingdale’s bathroom stall,” River threatens. “If you don’t claim that Gaelic thirst trap, I will.”
My stomach drops. “You wouldn’t dare,” I snap.
“Wanna watch me?”
“NO!”
“Ha!” River thrills, and her heels do a little spin through the gap. “Gotcha, doodle bug.”
“Ugh!” I groan, slumping back against the wall. She got me. She knows I’m jealous. She knows I want him.
“Promise?”
I heave a sigh. “I promise.”
“Promise to dance and swoon and totally squirt if he takes you into a dark corner at the ball and fingers your pretty pussy?”
“Jesus, River!” My stomach somersaults. I nearly combust.
A pause.
“Did you really call him Sir?” she teases.
“Oh, my God! I am so not talking about this with you right now.”
A bright, sparkling sound leaves her mouth. “Swear to come out of your shell, and I’ll shut up.”
I reach for the next dress. It’s deep pink—apologetically my favorite color—shimmering, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a twist-knot detail at the bust. The back is completely open, and the skirt flares out in a perfect A-line.
I step into it, pulling it up over my hips, and the fabric settles against my skin like it was made for me.
“I swear.”
Once I acknowledge it, I feel something shift. A prickling thrill. Eagerness swirling low in my belly, unraveling its old knots.
“Okay, come on out and show,” River calls.
“I like this one,” I say softly.
I open the door, and River steps out at the same time.
She’s wearing a strapless gold gown that shimmers like lightning, the fabric clinging to her curves and flaring at the bottom. It’s stunning against her long, dark hair and lighter olive skin. Total goddess energy.
But she’s not looking at herself. Her mouth falls open at the sight of me. “Lex. Oh my God. Lex!”
I glance down at myself, suddenly self-conscious.
The pink sequined dress catches the light, sparkling like garnets.
The sleeves frame my collarbone, and the bust detail makes my chest seem…
well, more impressive than usual. The open back shows just enough skin to be daring, and the A-line skirt swishes when I move.
“Do a twirl,” River demands.
I spin slowly. The skirt flares out, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I look…different. Like someone confident.
And beautiful. I mean, I know I’m beautiful, but this is captivatingly beautiful.
River could cause a ten-car pileup just by walking across the street.
But I think I could cause heads to turn just enough so they don’t notice they’re walking straight into River’s leftover mechanical carnage.
“Perfect choice,” River flashes a thumbs-up. “Makes your tits stand out more.”
I sigh, but it’s more playful. “River—”
“I’ve a mind to agree.”
I freeze.
Turning, I find Liam standing at the end of the hallway, smirking while leaning against the wall, arms crossed. On his head sits the newsboy cap. With the fake glasses, he gives off a dangerous, 1920s gangster who just stepped out of a speakeasy.
My heart stutters.
“And buíochas.” He nods to River, “My thanks for the Gaelic thirst trap and heartthrob. And aye, she did call me Sir.” His attention shifts to me, dark and hungry. “And I am wantin’ to know more about this panties scene.”
White shock hits my chest. “How much did you—”
“Enough.” His grin spreads.
River’s brows dance. “How it started was—”
“Nope!” I spin and dash back into the fitting room, my heart pounding.
Before I can close the door, hot muscles swarm my back.
I turn, and Liam is there, filling the doorway, his shadow falling over me.
“Holy fuck buckets! What on earth are you—”
He steps inside and closes the door behind him.
Eyes wider than the sky, I gasp, “Liam!”
Something slow and wicked crosses his face, and he places his hands on either side of me, caging me against the mirror. “I’ve also a mind to test your promise, Lexie Darlin’.”
A whirlpool of heat swirls inside me.
“Don’t worry.” He closes in until his breath ghosts over my lips. “I’ll not make ye come out of your shell too much. Just gonna see how much we can fog up those mirrors.”
Beyond the door, River squeals, “Get it, girl!”
I want to melt into the floor and disappear.
But I also want him to keep looking at me this way. Like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“Liam.” My hands roam along his chest. “We’re in a fitting room.”
“Aye,” he says, his brogue thickening. “And you’re in a dress that’s makin’ it very hard for me to behave meself.”
His hands touch my waist, his fingers brushing the bare skin where the dress dips low. I quiver, my pulse spinning out of control.
“You’re beautiful, mo Róisín,” he murmurs. “Absolutely stunning.”
I bite my lip, my heart racing. “You can’t just—”
“Can’t what?” His lips hover above mine. “Can’t tell ye the truth? Can’t touch what’s mine?”
“Yours?” I whisper, lower lip trembling.
“Aye.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Mine.”
And then his hands are everywhere.
One closes around my throat—not squeezing, a gentle pressure that makes my lungs wither. The other hand trails to my side, over the sparkling fabric, before slipping under the hem of my skirt.
I grab his wrist. “Liam—”
“You’re goin’ to be a good girl and stay quiet, aye?” he asks, low and rough.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
His lips find my neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat. His hand moves higher under my skirt, his fingers brushing the inside of my thigh. I have to bite my lip so I don’t make a sound.
“That’s it,” he hums against my skin. “Good girl.”
His fingers tease higher, tracing patterns on my inner thigh, and my knees go weak.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you at the ball, Darlin’?” he murmurs hot against my ear. “I’m goin’ to find a dark corner. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one will see. And I’m goin’ to slide me hand under that pretty pink dress and make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
I whimper, my hips pushing forward, and his hand stills.
“And then,” he goes on, “I’m going to worship every inch of you until you’re beggin’ me to stop. And I won’t, Lexie Darlin’. I’ll be aiming for five tonight.”
Shallow breaths escape my throat. My hand shudders as I lower it. “And for you?”
He tucks a few curls behind my ear, expression softening. “Aye, Luv. Ye can touch me now. But over my trousers. We’ll save it all for the ball. I want you desperate for me, as desperate as I am for you.”
I press my hand against him, feeling the hard length through the fabric, and he throbs.
My lips part. Oh. I’m getting a better scope of it.
“Ack.” He waves a hand dismissively, but his lust doesn’t escape me. “One of my exes made me measure it once. Eight inches—nine if I’m fierce worked up, like I am now—if it matters to ye.”
An ache deepens inside my core. “Would you think less of me if I said it does matter?”
He moves closer, grinding against my hand, rumbling a low groan. “Nah, Luv. Flattered. Every part of your body matters to me. Is my business, Darlin’. And ye can make mine your business, too.”
I squeeze him, and a cute little smile tugs at my lips. “Well, I like to mix business with pleasure.”
He brushes his knuckles along my cheek. “Fecking perfect, sweet girl. Alright, Lexie Luv. That’s enough mirror steaming for now. Time to get you out of that dress before I forget we’ve got a ball to attend and River starts banging down the door.”
I laugh, breathless and dizzy, and he steps back, giving me a little space.
But the heat in his eyes doesn’t fade.
And neither does the promise.