Chapter 35
CHARLIE
Charlie’s grip tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles almost completely white from the effort.
He wished he could say that it was because of the worries and anxiety he’d felt earlier that evening.
He’d felt lighter than he had in years after talking to Sam about everything with his family, with Erica, with this whole spectacle, but he’d still felt the flutter of nerves swirling around in his gut.
Those thoughts felt a million miles away currently.
No, what currently overtook all other thoughts at the moment was his body’s reaction to simply seeing Sam in a fucking dress. This gorgeous, stunning woman—his woman—wrapped like a fucking gift in velvet.
He hadn’t prepared himself in advance for that, cursing his past self for it, because his reaction had been swift. Even as he sat behind the steering wheel with a death grip, it took everything in him not to turn the car around and forgo the whole evening.
That fucking dress was going to be the bane of his existence tonight.
It clung to her like a second skin, the light hue of her skin cut against the stark, rich deep-green fabric.
Its velvety texture highlighted every mouthwatering curve that she possessed.
The neckline dipped just low enough to hint at the swell of her breasts—the fabric straining against their fullness.
The dress’s straps were delicately suspended off her shoulders, almost indifferent to their intended task and merely fluttering there.
When she walked out of the bedroom, arm-in-arm with Angel, it had taken just about every ounce of strength he had not to throw her over his shoulder and banish the other two from the apartment, so they wouldn’t hear how loud he wanted to make her scream his name.
Even now, sitting here felt torturous.
All he wanted was to rip that dress off her body.
Thread by fucking thread.
It didn’t help that—in this tight space, with no escape from it—the intoxicating scent of her perfume wrapped around the cords of his throat with a vise-like grip. It wasn’t one she usually wore, but it made him nearly feral at how perfect it was for her.
It was subtle, floral, with a hint of citrus, and it managed to fit her just as much as her usual scent did.
Reserved in a way that made him crave to see that wild side of her, a femininity that she was so clearly unaware of, one that could have him on his knees at her feet, and a punch of sweetness to make his mouth water.
A siren’s lullaby packaged neatly in a bottle.
What was worse for his psyche, however, was any time he stole a glance at her.
She seemed to sense his eyes on her every time, throwing him one of those hooded come hither looks. He was doing his best, he really was, but if she didn’t cut it out, he’d have to pull the car over.
“Need help with that?” she asked innocently, her eyes lowering to his lap.
Shit.
“Behave,” he ordered gruffly.
This woman was pure wickedness in an angel’s form, and God save him from the things he was going to do to this angel later. He’d worship every inch of her body and have her sobbing by the end of tonight if things went his way—which he had every intention of happening.
She hummed low in her throat. “I’m just enjoying this a little. You’re this excited simply seeing me in this dress, and you haven’t even seen what I’m wearing underneath it yet.”
He groaned, gripping the steering wheel even harder. “You’re killing me, baby. We’re gonna end up in a ditch if you don’t behave.”
“Sorry. It’s just a little fun making you squirm.” She giggled, batting those long eyelashes at him.
He laughed, the sound strangled. “I’m sure, but I’d hate to ruin that dress of yours, so I need you to distract me from ripping it off of you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” she replied, throwing him a smug wink.
Wicked creature, God help him.