Page 7 of Addicted to Love

Draping the clothes over his outstretched arm, I turn back to the rack, quickly dismissing some of the prettier, feminine pieces in favour of some of the menswear. “Not everyone can afford brand-new designer gear, Luke.”

He shoots me a patronising look. “I know that. Like I said, you just always look good. Different but good.”

“I’m not preppy and perky like the girls you usually hang out with?” I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for his response to my barb as I hold up a pair of men’s grey suit trousers. I wonder if I could make these work if I shorten the length, add design up the left leg and maybe add a tartan patch or two? Hmmm, possibilities.

“You’re unapologetic for being you. I like that. It’s righteous.” His words seem to hit me square in the chest. Why was he always so nice to me?

Shaking my head with a smile, I ignore the wave of longing that hits me and make my way to the changing rooms. His kindness was wearing me down, I craved it, and that wasn’t a good sign. It was easy to be around Luke, intoxicating even, as he sucked me in with gentle, soft words and heated looks.

Luke makes me show him each outfit, giving me a thumbs-up or down on whether he thinks I should buy the item of clothing or not. I don’t take too much stock in his words, since I’m going to modify them all anyway, but it feels oddly intimate and fun to have his thoughts as I parade around the changing room like a peacock, pulling silly poses.

After the fourth outfit change, we’re both laughing. “Is this some kind of movie montage?” I tease as I show him a long-patterned skirt and burgundy turtleneck combo.

“Just try them on!” he says, handing me a few more items he’s grabbed off the sale rack. I swear he’s enjoying this more than I am, the twinkle in his eyes infectious.

“You just want to get me out of my clothes.” Winking, I close the curtain separating us to choose the next outfit.

His voice fills the changing area, and I can almost imagine his smirk as I shuck off the skirt and throw it in my ‘No way’ pile. “I’m not going to deny that.”

Luke’s smooth words don’t do anything to settle the tightening in my body. As I wiggle my way into a short black dress, with a lace overlay and puffed-up sleeves, I’m struggling to keep my heart from doing dolphin flips in my chest.

Looking in the mirror, my reflection looks different. I’m me. But I’m also not. There’s an edge to my face, my features seem brighter somehow. Maybe I’m imagining it but being with Luke is almost like being lit up from the inside. The dress is low cut, and clings to every curve of my body, and that’s when I realise I can’t wear it in front of Luke and act silly. Feeling self-conscious, I yank the zip down, only for it to freeze in place no matter how I try to tug it down.

I’m stuck. Panic starts to rise up my throat. My options were to tear the dress, which I didn’t want to do because then I’d have to buy it. Or to ask for help...

“Urm, Luke?” I wet my lips, nervously. “Can you give me a hand?”

He sticks his head round the curtain. “What’s up?”

It doesn’t escape my notice that he didn’t even pause, not to check if I was decent or if I wanted him to come inside, and I can’t decide if his lack of hesitation turns me on or makes me uncomfortable. Was it possible to be both?

“The zipper, it’s jammed.” I keep my voice low, conscious of the sales attendants outside. I’m not sure how much help he’ll be with one hand in the cast, but I figured he was the less embarrassing option than calling one of the store assistants.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and I get a small sense of satisfaction when he visibly swallows. It looks like I’m not the only one affected by our proximity.

“Let me have a look.” There’s a tearing sound as he yanks, and the fabric loosens. My mouth falls open, but he just flashes me a smirk in the mirror. “Well, since it’s already ruined…I guess I’m buying a new dress.”

I feel the tips of his fingers brush against my spine as they slide inside the tear and he pulls, making the rip larger. I tense, not because he’s ruined the dress, but because I feel exposed as the dress begins slipping down my body, loosened by his impatience.

Neither of us says anything as I watch him in the changing room mirror. The air feels thick and heavy, filled only with the sound of our breathing, and if he listened carefully, he could probably hear my heartbeat.

With his eyes on mine, he leans forward and softly places a kiss on my shoulder.

When he steps back, I make a small squeak in protest. I want his lips on me again, and the fact that I need it so badly, scares me. He was a stranger.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice unsteady and broken.

He murmurs against my skin, “Everything.”

“You don’t even know me.” My protests die on my lips as he moves across my collarbone and to the back of my exposed neck. Even though I could see his mouth in the reflection, it was like I felt it everywhere.

He kisses the side of my neck, watching me. “The second you put yourself between that lame-ass boyfriend and me that night, told me everything I need to know about you. What kind of person you are.”

His good hand wraps around my waist, fingers pressing into my hip as he holds me in place firmly. He wants me, and with his body flush with mine, he was showing me how much.

I groan, tilting my head back. “I can’t…”

“I know. But you can’t deny you feel this, you want this too.” His fingers dig in a little tighter, his erection pressing against my ass, and I blush as I grind a little against him.

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