With Charli facing me now, I lose even more of my executive function. Her breasts are trying to spill out of the corset’s cups. And her eyes are done up in a way I’ve only seen a couple of times before—with a sultry dark outline that says, “Do me right now, Drake.” Her lips are tinted in a bitten color that I just want to taste.
“Fuck me,” I whisper to myself. “It’s good to be home.”
Vera titters. “Say hello to your wife. I’ll wait in the living room. Charli has one more dress to try on, and I want to see that shirt on you!”
She hurries out of the bedroom, closing the door and leaving us standing there staring at each other. Charli’s cheeks are tinted a bright pink color and not because of makeup.
“This is a warmer welcome than I was expecting,” I admit.
“Neil.” She rolls her eyes. “I honestly didn’t mean to greet you in…” She waves a hand in front of her delicious chest. “Whatever this is.”
“That is a goddamn miracle. That’s what that is.” I take a step toward her. “Can I have a closer look?”
“Not a chance,” she says, taking a step backwards. “Let me just put on this last dress.”
Yeah, I really should have been here half an hour ago.
“Try on your shirt.” Charli waves toward a tuxedo shirt hanging on a metal clothing rack that Vera must have rolled in here.
“You’re asking me to strip down,” I point out, setting down my suitcase. I toss my suit coat over the end of the bed, and I start in on my buttons.
“That is not what I’m asking.” She leans forward (nnnghh!) as she steps into a copper-colored dress, then hastily pulls up the fabric, hiding that lingerie miracle from view.
I make quick work of my shirt, tossing it aside. And let’s just say it’s a good thing poor Vera isn’t trying to take my measurements today, because my trousers are suddenly too snug.
Charli slips her arms through the dress’s silk armholes. “Would you, um, zip me?”
“Of course. Although I’d rather unzip you.”
“Behave,” Charli hisses.
I do. Mostly. But first I slip one palm up Charli’s back, gathering her hair in my hand and giving it a little tug as I hold it up and out of the way.
Her breath hitches, and goosebumps break across her skin.
My chuckle is deep and dark as I slide the zipper upward through the silk.
“Thank you,” she says quickly.
“You’re welcome.” I put my hands on her bare shoulders and turn her gently around. “Just for the record, I don’t mind coming home from a road trip to find you wearing lingerie in my bedroom.”
“I got distracted,” she sniffs. “Vera and I got to talking about eye techniques.”
“With… makeup?” I clarify. “I didn’t know you were a makeup guru.”
“There’s plenty about me you don’t know,” she says huffily. “Now put on your penguin shirt. I have to show Vera this dress.”
I grab the shirt and follow Charli out of the bedroom. My tongue is practically hanging out. The copper dress dips low in back, and I just want to run my hands all over her exposed skin.
“Wipe off your drool, slugger,” Vera says immediately. “That isn’t the right dress for her.”
“It’s the neckline, right?” Charli does a twirl. “This bias cut isn’t doing me any favors. And the color is too flat with this hair.”
I’ve never heard Charli talk about fashion before. I didn’t know she spoke girly-girl. “I like the dress,” I say sadly. “I think it’s a winner.”
“You’ll like the blue one better,” Vera says cheerfully.
“Okay. Can I see the blue one?” And the naked moments in between the dresses?
“Sure, you can. On Sunday night,” Charli says. “Vera, a little help with the zipper?”
“I got it,” I volunteer.
But Vera is already reaching for it. “It’s been fun fitting you, Charli. You have such a great eye. Thanks for the browbone contouring tutorial.”
“Anytime.” Charli flounces toward the bedroom, and my eyes follow her with an internal whimper.
“Ouch,” Vera says after sitting down. “Why do you still own this sofa?”
“That’s a fair question.” I button the tux shirt, note that it fits fine, and then unbutton it again. “I hate the sofa, but I can’t stand to create landfill. Also? I hate shopping and I travel a hundred nights a year.”
“Huh,” she says. “Why don’t I call Housing Works for you, and they’ll come and pick it up. You’d get a fat tax deduction.”
“Sure? Does your store sell couches?”
“No, sir. You’ll have to go to an actual furniture store. Charli would enjoy picking out a new couch.”
“She probably wouldn’t have time for furniture shopping, either,” I reason.
“WRONG!” Charli calls from the bedroom. “I would happily pick out a comfy sectional. And a coffee table that you could actually put your feet on. Maybe a pouf, too.”
“What’s a pouf?” I ask. “Wait—I don’t want to know. Just surprise me.”
“Okie doke,” Vera says. “Now I’ll get my dresses together and head back to Manhattan. I’ll put the blue one on your card, Neil.”
“And the corset?” I ask, feeling hopeful. “And those fuck-me heels?”
“They aren’t fuck-me heels!” Charli shouts.
“Are too!” I shout back. I know this because tonight I’m going to be lying in that damn bed thinking about them, wishing someone would fuck me.
Specifically, Charli.
“No comment,” Vera says. “I’ll show myself out so you two can get reacquainted. It’s been a long week apart with that road trip, no? I can only guess what a couple of newlyweds will be up to!”
She’d be right if I had anything to say about it.
Charli emerges from my bedroom a few minutes later, fully dressed in athletic pants and a Bombshells jacket. “I have to leave early for my game,” she says. “Georgia wants to have a PR meeting beforehand. Can’t imagine why. She already got her All-Star photos.”
“Who are you playing tonight?”
“Albany,” she growls. “And they’re annoyingly good. Solid defense, plus a dangerous sniper.”
“You guarding her?” I ask.
“Of course.” She leans down to tie her shoes.
“This should be fun.” I chuckle. “Hope my seat is right down in front.”
Her head swings up. “You’re coming to my game?”
“Sure. That’s a thing fake husbands do, right?”
She gives a slow blink. “You don’t have to, though. I wouldn’t be offended.”
“It’ll be fun,” I insist. “It’s hockey. Duh.”
“Okay. Your night off, your choice.” She shrugs, picking up her gym bag. “Look, I shopped yesterday afternoon. Let me show you something.” She beckons, and then trots into my kitchen.
I follow her like a hungry dog. Although food isn’t really what’s on my mind.