Page 39 of Last Letters to Ara
Never graceful, I pretend like the compliment doesn’t exist. “Okay then, let’s make sure it fits.”
Speaking of perfect fingers, the way they fiddle with the buttons, one by one, as he does up his shirt to the collar is… distracting. I clear my throat and Theo shoots me a smirk.
Once he’s done with the torturing process, I help him slip into the jacket. A perfect fit. My measurements couldn’t have been better. You can tell it was made for him, from his shoulders to the waist, he is a work of art.
“I’ve never loved anything I’ve worn as much as I love this jacket.” Theo takes a long look in the mirror. “I guess measuring with my shirt off really does make the difference.”
I can’t help but giggle. “I should change, now that I know your suit is perfect.”
His eyes meet mine in the reflection of the mirror, making me feel like a stone plunging into the depths of a green ocean, darker and stormier the deeper I sink. Something passes between us then, and he slowly turns to face me, his chest brushing mine.
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.” I don’t know where this daring attitude is coming from, but I can’t switch it off when he’s around.
Entering my design room for the last time before the reveal, no way would I have the guts to wear this dress if it were anyone but Theo out there. I took the typical design of lingerie and converted it into a dress, making it from the black lace that I purchased with Theo.
Two cups fit perfectly for my breasts—giving them a generous lift into plump little half circles—is where the bodice starts. The rest is entirely sheer, showcasing my waist and leavingjustenough to the imagination. My favorite touch is the illusion split that I created with nude mesh, which starts behind my left hip, curving around to the front of my leg and opening into a real split, mid-thigh.
My floor-length mirror shows me everything, and I know without a doubt I look sexy as all hell. I’ve never felt this way about myself—being able to look in the mirror and appreciate what I see—before tonight. Yet here I stand, in lingerie-turned-dress, on Valentine’s Day, for my new best friend. And this platonic date. I’m not even going totryto make sense of any of that tonight.
I quickly grab the red pointed pumps and matching clutch that I bought just for this, and make my way to the door, taking a deep breath and swinging it open before I lose my nerve.
Theo startles from where he’s standing, his jawliterallydropping when he sees my dress, when he seesme. He takes an unthinking step forward, the most basic part of himself unable to stand the distance between us.
Missionfuckingaccomplished.
This time, his eyes linger on my breasts as if he knows he should pull them away, but physically can’t. My heart is pounding by the time he finds the strength to drag them to my almost-bare torso, taking in every bit of skin on display beneath the lace.
His eyes are ravenous by the time he makes it to the invisible material posing as aninsanelyhigh split. Once his eyes have traveled the full length of my body, he closes them and clenches his jaw.
Theo may be a gentleman, but I’m happy to know he is still a man.
Just because I’m feeling extra cruel tonight, after he finally opens his eyes, I put my arms at my sides and give him a slow twirl, showing off another feature of the dress: the back. I used the nude mesh again, giving it the illusion of dropping into a scandalously low ‘V” until the black lace takes over again, curving around my small bottom.
I know the second Theo notices how well this dress hugs my ass, thanks to the sound he makes in the back of his throat. By the time I finish the slow turn to face him again, he’s scarcely gotten himself together, looking like a man who’s been through hell and is diving back in for the return trip.
“Well?” I ask innocently, as if I haven’t noticed the onslaught of his attention.
Theo clears his throat. Once. Twice.
“You look…” He shakes his head and moves toward me.
I don’t think I’ll stop him if he decides to tear this dress to threads, right here. It would be a worthy sacrifice, but instead, he grabs my hand, bringing it up so I can twirl around again under his guidance.
“You look…devastating.”
Theo is helpless against this dress.
“Is it normal to want to have sex with your best friend?”
His question sets my body abuzz. I manage to keep my face neutral as I raise my shoulder in a slight shrug and say, “I’ve never had a male best friend before, but I’d guess that it’s not normal.”
“Well, it would be a lot easier if you didn’t look like this.” He motions toward me as if that’s explanation enough. “I was kidding myself when I agreed for this to be platonic, because I am not looking at you—or thinking about you—platonically.”
“So, then it’s not normal for my best friend to be staring at my boobs?”
He lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I don’t believe so.”
