Page 46 of Sweet Wicked Vows
Each step forward, the clearer and more divine the voice sounded. Unable to stop myself, I followed the serenade like a sailor being drawn to his watery death.
It was hauntingly soulful.
Behind the bedroom door, Evelyn sat at her dressing table, green eyes staring straight into her own reflection while she aimlessly brushed her deep red curls. She sang a song I didn’t recognize, but it didn’t stop me from being transfixed.
There was a sadness in her eyes, and it sucker-punched me below the ribs.
The Evelyn I’d seen, the one who wasn’t scared to stand up for herself, was not the same woman sitting at the mirror. It was as if I was seeing through her armor, a crack in her airtight mask, and revealing the beautiful sorrow underneath.
I’d been so lost in her voice that I barely registered her lack of clothing. She sat with only a pure virginal white and lace bodysuit, the sheer material giving teasing glimpses of her smooth and bite-worthy skin. My fingertips itched to feel the material ripping between them, to hear her gasps and moans when my hands unwrapped every inch of her, leaving her bare and exposed just for me.
The crotch area of my trousers grew tight.
She was my hell wrapped up in sinful heaven.
Our eyes connected in the mirror, the song dying on her lips. Her full lips parted, her brows coming together as she studied every inch of me in the reflection, no doubt being able to see the not-so-subtle tent I was pitching.
“It’s rude to open doors without knocking,” she eventually said. “Even more rude to stand there watching me like a creep.”
“You’re not dressed yet.”
She swung her long legs around and stood up. “Because you’re an hour early.”
Time itself fucking stilled.
A glimpse of her pebbling nipples, peach-tinged skin, and that lace underwear accentuating her curved hips and coming into a succulent V outlining the shape of her tempting cunt—I wasn’t a religious man, but I’d happily get down on my knees and worship her with my tongue.
Saliva pooled in my mouth at the mere thought of her taste.
A mouthwatering apple plucked straight from the Garden of Eden itself.
It seemed no amount of relieving myself with my own hand was able to take the edge I felt when around her.
My throat bobbed. “You look… you look well.” The biggest fucking understatement of the millennial.
Why was I reverting back to being some pubescent boy who couldn’t string a sentence together in front of an attractive girl?
“You may as well make yourself useful now that you’re here.” She motioned to the bed.
Another painful rush of blood filled my cock. “What?”
She pointed to the dress that my lust-hazed gaze was blind to. “I need help with the zip at the back. Lola was supposed to help me, but I sent her to help Violet at the gallery.”
Fully entering the room, Evelyn pulled the dress over her head and turned her back to me. Flexing my hands, I brushed her hair away, the softness of her curls desperately calling outto be fisted. My fingertips grazed the lace underwear, sending a million and fucking one electric shocks through my nervous system. Being this close to her, seeing the little twitches of her back each time I touched her, it was too much.
Pulling the zipper up, I couldn’t stop myself from running my knuckles along the nape of her neck and slowly down her arm. I delighted in watching her skin flush with goosebumps.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I have a tie for you to wear.” She didn’t move or shrug off my touch. “It’s on the bed. It will match my dress.”
I was rooted in place. Stuck staring at the back of her neck, counting each of the freckles speckled across her shoulders, and fighting with the urge to roll my tongue across the small brown marks.
After what felt like a lifetime, she broke away and busied herself with putting on a pair of shoes and grabbing pieces of jewelry from the vanity table. I grabbed the tie, looping it around my neck and watching her from the corner of my eye.
She was world-altering beautiful.
Non—beautiful wasn’t strong enough to describe her.
The dress looked like it was made out of a thousand falling stars, flowing all the way down to leave a shimmering puddle at her feet. On one side, her leg peeked through a slit that I wanted to bunch up further.