Chapter 29 – Kincaid #2
I chuckle, pulling the curtain and stepping into the hallway. “The jeans are okay, but I’ll probably pass. I’m going to grab this tank top for Mal, though.”
All rational thought evaporates as I catch sight of Lumen. She’s in a navy-colored dress with thin straps. It shows off her lithe neck, clavicles, and her shoulders, but the neckline is modest. It’s tight up top and flared after her waist with little pleats.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, licking my lips.
Lumen laughs, twirling her hair together and holding it over one shoulder as she gives me her back. “Can you check that the straps and the bow are in the right place?”
My dick hardens as I get a view of the back of the dress. I wish I was better equipped to describe it, but the top straps meet in the bottom of a V.
A large bow covers the middle of her back, and the straps cascade from under it, forming an upside-down V. Basically, her entire back is showing down to just above her ass. Maybe that’s called a scooped back?
Fuck if I know, but it fits her perfectly.
“Okay, I think you have that on backwards,” I lie, smirking at her in the mirror that she’s busy studying. “That bow is totally meant to cover your tits.”
“No way…” Her eyes get huge.
“I’m just fucking with you, sweetheart.” I chuckle. “But fucking hell, that dress is perfect.”
“I didn’t mess up the straps?”
“You didn’t.” I slide up behind her, planting my hands on her hips as our eyes meet in the mirror. “Is this cotton?”
“Yep,” she agrees, running her hand over her middle. “It’s light and soft. I kinda love it.”
“It was made for you,” I say, and I’m not exaggerating. “You have to get this one. Hell, get it in every color they have.”
She’s always stunning. The cut of the dress just manages to accentuate her natural curves. It flares around her hips and ass, making her backside pop even more than normal while exaggerating her natural hourglass shape.
I think it’s something about the triangles formed with the straps, but it lengthens her torso while drawing my gaze to her shoulders and arms.
My bite would look really fucking nice on that long neck of hers.
Aww, shit.
“We have that club show in Myrtle Beach tomorrow night,” I say, running my fingers down her side. “This dress is perfect.” I tease back up again, brushing my fingers under the curve of her right tit.
The dress shows off the full curve of the bottom of her breasts, but the material is just thick enough that I can’t make out her nipples.
With the practically nonexistent back of the dress, I’m not sure if she could even wear a strapless bra, though I’m sure this place carries pasties or that tape women use.
“This one is a little out of my budget, but I could splurge,” she whispers, rolling her bottom lip through her teeth. “I’m just not sure it’s worth it. I wouldn’t get much use out of it in daily life.”
I can understand why she’s struggling. She’s worried about paying off her apartment complex, and she’s not working. Watching her face in the mirror, I can see her debating between snatching up the dress that was clearly meant for her and being responsible.
Lifting her arm, I check the price tag. It’s just under four hundred dollars. Back before Liminal took off, I would have had to debate a purchase like this too.
Now?
I could buy her one of everything in this store, and it wouldn’t touch a twentieth of what I have in savings.
My hand comes to rest on her stomach, and I pull her into my chest. It’s a battle to choose my words.
I don’t want to scare her off, but I also don’t want her to spend the rest of the afternoon obsessing about money.
My chin comes to rest on her shoulder, and I tease my palm over her abdomen.
“I’ve spent the last six or seven years hoarding money,” I say, feeling like I’m dancing around landmines.
“Growing up poor really fucked with my head. I’m finally at a point where I can indulge here or there without feeling guilty or like I’m being wasteful.
Let me spoil you today, sweetheart? Please?
I’m the one who asked you out on this date.
Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I feel like everything we do today should be my treat. ”
“Date?” she squeaks as her eyes get comically large. “Is this a date?”
“I thought so.” I smirk, shrugging. “Is there a new term the kids are calling it nowadays?” I chuckle. “Come on, Lumen. Don’t make me feel old.”
She laughs.
“I’m serious,” I say, patting her stomach. “I want to take you out, buy you nice things, maybe eat a meal together here or there, and spend time really getting to know you. Whatever that’s called, I want to do it.”
“Yeah.” Her long lashes flutter. “That’s definitely dating.”
“Then that’s what I want to do.”
Lumen gets a handful of other fancy pieces that can be worn to our shows or on nights out, along with several tank top and skirt sets that are more casual. While she’s browsing bras and panties, I obnoxiously shop for her, picking out clothes for the colder weather that I know is coming.
She’s focused on getting things that work now, but the farther north we go and the closer we get to November, the more she will need an entirely new winter wardrobe.
I keep it simple, grabbing leggings, jeans, sweaters, and a few long-sleeve shirts while she’s busy.
My arms are full by the time I make it up to the cashier. She drops her phone, plastering on a smile.
Goddammit.
She’s definitely been taking pictures of us, or at the very least me.
“Can you get started on removing the security tags and ringing this up?” I ask, forcing myself to be cordial.
I thought we got lucky with the store being empty, but it only takes one person to post to social media, and fans can swarm ridiculously fast.
“Of course,” she says, reaching to grab the top set of leggings.
“I hate to rush you, but we have places to be. I would appreciate it if you could pack it up quickly.”
Her eyes dart to her phone, and my suspicions are all but proven.
If she didn’t post on social media, she texted her friends to tell her Liminal’s lead singer is in her store.
I stride over to Lumen to avoid bitching at the security team. They’re standing near the door, which makes sense, but it also would have been nice if they could have given a warning. They know what happens when servers, cashiers, and other customers pull out their phones.
“You almost done, sweetheart?” I ask, coming to a stop behind Lumen. “I’m starving.”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I got lost looking at the pretty things.” She chuckles awkwardly.
“I have another store or two that I’m hoping we can hit if we have time before we need to get back to the venue.”
“I’m ready now.” She puts the baby pink lacy bra back on the rack, and I make a point of picking it up.
“You can take that up to the cashier. I’ll be right over.” I kiss her cheek and check the size on the bra, grabbing the silver version and one in light blue.
The matching panties are on the rack under the bras, and I have no idea what size she wears.
She’s curvy.
Hell, I’m a skinny fuck, and I still wear a men’s large in most shirts, just because if I downsize, they always show my stomach when I raise my arms. If I can find a medium tall, I’ll go with that, but not all stores carry them.
Her bra is a 34D, so I settle for a medium and a large in all three colors.
God, I hope I didn’t go too small.
Or too big.
Which would be more insulting?
Do women’s underwear sizes match what I got in leggings?
Jesus.
I’m going to give myself an ulcer.
At least I tried.
Glancing out the window, I head to the register and frown.
There are several small clusters of people peeking through the front window. We have no authority to shut down this store, but I’m guessing they don’t know that. They probably don’t want to deal with the bodyguards.
Dammit.
Here’s hoping Lumen doesn’t get freaked out when we walk out and get mobbed by fans. If that doesn’t scare her away, seeing pictures of herself shopping might.
Fuck, man.
Sometimes I really hate this side of being famous.