Page 128 of Handsome Devil
Then I tried to just relax and breathe, as I took a few minutes carefully removing my heavy wedding makeup, completely cleaning my face. I never slept with all my makeup on. Though I never slept with a man without makeup covering my scar.
Dane had mentioned, in our ridiculous email back-and-forth that first day he arrived at the agency, that my scar had vanished. But that wasn’t true. It wasn’t completely gone. I’d had an incredible result with my surgery—actually two surgeries—but I also used a heavy coverage makeup on it to seamlessly blend away what remained of the scar.
I did not like having it exposed, pretty much ever. And definitely not in front of a man I didn’t trust.
So I reapplied the makeup, covering and blending in the faint scar that trailed across my cheek and up the side of my nose.
Then I got dressed in the little black nightie with pushup cups that I’d left hanging on the back of the door. Sure, brides didn’t usually wear black, but this just seemed to suit the occasion.
It wasn’t every day I decided to marry the devil.
The nightie was filmy and lacy with matching panties, and despite having thin, underwire cups, offered very little support. My breasts bobbed alluringly when I moved. My nipples threatened to fall right out of the lace.
Damn. Did I buy this thing a size too small? Maybe. But either way, it was fucking working.
If Dane didn’t get hard when he saw me in this, he either seriously hated me in a place so deeply entrenched in his being that not even bouncing tits and naked thighs would allow the hormones to override his brain and let the blood flow into his dick, or, he just didn’t find me attractive, at all, and the ugly little game between us was all just that. An ugly little game.
An ice-cold power struggle, plain and simple.
No better time to find out than the present, right?
I stood back and took a long look at myself, letting my hair down out of the loose knot I’d tied it in to keep it dry in the shower. As I tousled my hair, striving for “wild, luscious vixen,” I tried to get a normal rhythm going with my breath. But I was definitely breathing a little heavy.
When I peeked inside the cups of the nightie, my nipples were hard. My boobs were swollen. No wonder they were practically falling out.
I plumped them up a little more, so my nipples were peeking through the lace a little. And when I thought about Dane’s green eyes landing on them when I stepped out of this room, arousal coursed through me.
Shit… What if he got sex face?
Some people got intense sex face when they were aroused. Like my best friend. Anytime she got talking about her sex life with her husband, Katie got embarrassingly sex faced. Glossy eyed and slack jawed.
Myself, I figured I had a decent poker face, aroused or not.
Or so I hoped.
What if Dane got all slack jawed and glossy eyed?
My pussy throbbed at the thought.
Not good.
I could not get all torqued up over him.
I didn’t even want to think about what was going on between my legs right now as I tried to squeeze them together and will the thought of Dane getting an erection out of my head.
Crap. What if he really did have a nice dick?
What if it was thick and long and amazing, and had a nice pulsing vein and oozed pre-come when he got all worked up?
I swallowed.
I tried to mentally walk myself through it, again, but this time Iactuallywalked myself through it. Not just strutting out there and getting down on my knees in front of him like a boss, and seizing control.
All of it.
Including seizing his dick.
I pictured myself down on my knees, my face in line with his goods. And whatever he was packing pressed against whatever he was wearing. Pajama pants? A towel?
