Page 32 of Forecheck
Not her, exactly. I was ecstatic to see her, and humbled she’d agreed to attend this thing with me. But public opinion and the media could be cruel, and I’d never before in my career gone public with a relationship.
Mostly because there’d never been a relationship worth going public about. I’d had my fair share of situationships and fuck buddies, but never someone I wanted to show off. Never someone I could see a future with.
And, yeah, I’d been photographed with a slew of beautiful, talented, famous women—but none of them lit me up the way this little blonde did.
Truth be told, this was a trial run for me and Berkley, and it terrified me. We were in uncharted territory here, and I was simply treading water.
I was a bundle of nervous energy as I drove to Berkley’s, and the shaking in my hands hadn’t subsided by the time I knocked on her door.
But all thoughts, all the air in my lungs, vacated me when she opened it to admit me.
The dress code for the Gala was black tie, and Berkley had more than risen to the occasion.
I wasn’t sure where to look first, but my mouth dried out further with every inch of her I explored with my eyes.
She’d elected to wear her hair back in a low pony, the ends of it swishing between her shoulder blades. Sparkly chandelier earrings hung from her lobes, and she’d forgone a necklace. Her makeup was tastefully smoky, all dark eyeshadow that had her blue eyes popping in the lowlights of her foyer, and her lips were painted with a deep red lipstick I fully planned to ruin at the first opportunity.
The true star of the show, though, was her dress. Emerald green, strapless save for little swooping sleeves that draped themselves delicately just below her deltoid muscles, it hugged her torso and hips before falling in a straight line to the floor. When she cleared her throat, a nervous sound if I’d ever heard one, I had trouble tearing my gaze away from the toned leg revealed by the thigh-high slit up one side.
Genuinely, I worried for what would happen to my sanity the moment she turned around and offered me a view of her ass.
“You are…” I swallowed, struggling to find a word that perfectly encapsulated all that she was. “Breathtaking.”
She stepped closer, her strappy back stilettos clicking on the floor, and gripped the satin lapels of my suit jacket.
“And you are…so sexy,” she breathed, followed by a disbelieving little chuckle.
That laugh sent blood straight to my cock.
As soon as the words were out, Berkley clapped a hand over her mouth, and I quirked a brow.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not usually so brazen. And sexy is a woefully inadequate word for what you are.”
“I like it,” I said. “You can call me whatever you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I like that you’re honest with me, and I’ll never complain about you hitting on me.”
“It takes a bit for me to warm up to people,” she explained. “And I haven’t been in a relationship for a while. But I’m comfortable with you. I guess…”
She sawed at her lower lip with her teeth, an action I was quickly coming to realize was one of her anxious ticks. Gently, I reached up and pulled it free, tilting her chin so her eyes met mine. “You guess what?”
“I’m afraid this is all a dream, and I’m going to wake up to realize I was never actually standing here with you. I’m afraid reality is going to come crashing down around me.”
“Berk…” She inhaled sharply, and I realized that was the first time I’d called her by a nickname. I loved the way the shortened version of her name rolled off my lips, how easily it fell free, and I wanted to say it again and again.
“This is not a dream. You know how I know?” She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. “Because my imagination could never conjure up something this good.”
The smile that overtook her face outshone the sun, and I could do nothing but settle my hands over hers and raise them to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“So you think I’m sexy?” I teased. “Because I definitely think you’re sexy. And about a thousand other things.”
“Sexy, handsome, insanely gorgeous, way too good looking for me…” she trailed off. “I could go on, but I think you get the picture.”
I captured her chin between my thumb and forefinger, once again forcing her to meet my gaze. “I amnottoo good looking for you,” I said. “And if I ever hear you self-deprecate like that again—”
“You’ll do what?”
