Page 75 of Risky Obsession
In the changing room, I removed my clothes and slipped into the pale pink monstrosity, struggling with the layers of lace and the weight of the skirt. Tugging at the sleeves, I emerged from the changing room feeling like a parody of a princess and faced Kane with a theatrical flourish.
“Well, what do you think?” I twirled for him, and the layers of lace and diamantes rustled.
Kane clapped dramatically. “Absolutely stunning. You should wear that to the gala tonight.”
“Very funny. I need to look beautiful, not ridiculous.”
His eyes softened. “I think you’d look beautiful in anything.”
My blood seemed to dance, and time stood still between us.
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Thanks, but no. This isn’t the look I’m going for.”
“Try on the red dress,” he said, and the air between us crackled like static electricity.
A knot wedged in my throat as I stepped back into the cubical and unzipped out of the dress, letting it fall at my feet.
Damn him . . . why does he have to be so . . . nice?
Do not cry. Do not cry.
Despite my mantra, tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked them away and tried to tell myself that I was just doing my job.
But for the first time since I became a cop, I wasn’t sure if following orders was the right thing to do.
I tugged on the red dress, and despite every effort, the bruises battering my body made pulling up the zipper impossible.
“Well?” Kane sounded like he was right outside the curtain.
“I can’t do the zipper.”
“Come out, I’ll do it for you.”
Cringing, I pulled open the curtain and stepped out. “No need. It’s hideous.”
“You won’t complete the dare.”
I groaned. “Really?”
“Yep. Turn around.” He twirled his finger.
I turned my back to him.
“Oh, Tory,” he breathed. “These bruises are horrific.”
Shit.In our reflection in the dressing room mirror, the tenderness in his expression nearly cracked my heart in two.
He brushed his fingers over the tender skin near my backbone, maybe tracing bruises that I hadn’t seen. A shiver ran through me, not from pain but from the unexpected softness in his touch. His fingers left a warm trail that sent prickles of delight along my skin.
“These look so painful.” His voice was laced with concern.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to cry.
“Sometimes they hurt.” I lowered my gaze from our reflection. “Like when you make me laugh.”
A wave of vulnerability tugged at something deep within me. I’d been on my own for so long, I didn’t think I needed anyone. Kane was cracking through that resolve, and it scared the crap out of me.
Not because I didn’t want him, but because my lies and deceit would ensure I could never have him.