Page 21 of Crossing the Line
She skimmed her hands over the gauzy layers. Backless and cut impossibly low in the front, it wasn’t a dress she’d normally have chosen. She’d have to tape herself in just to make sure she could avoid the weekly nip slip countdown. No, she wouldn’t have agreed to wear it, but Xavier’s dissent pushed her over the edge. She was prepared to prance out in public dressed like a girl with daddy issues.
“It’s a security risk,” Xavier snapped.
“How? I can’t hide a handgun, much less a bomb under this,” Waverly smirked, hands on hips. He wet his lips, and she felt a thrill run up her spine.
Xavier Saint was attracted to her.
“I’m going to end up shooting someone tonight if you wear that dress.”
Kate snickered from her sprawled out position on the bed. “Saint, you gotta get out more. There’s going to be women wearing a lot less than Waverly here.”
The vein in Xavier’s forehead throbbed. “Kate, would you mind giving us a minute?” he asked pleasantly, rubbing two fingers to the line between his eyes.
“I’d be happy to,” Kate said. “I need a snack anyway.”
Waverly watched her friend saunter through the bedroom door and, tossing a knowing smile over her shoulder, shut the door behind her.
“You didn’t have to throw her out,” Waverly snapped.
Xavier rose and loomed behind her, glaring at her in the mirror. Waverly spun around to face him. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked ready to throttle her. “If you wear this dress, I’m not leaving your side this afternoon.”
She slapped a hand to his chest. “How is that any different from any other day?”
“I mean it Waverly. You’re asking for a lot of attention that you don’t need.”
“I’m not asking for anything. I look good in this dress.”
“You look fucking beautiful in the dress, but you’d look that way in a dress that I can’t see through. I am begging you, Angel, for the love of God, do not wear this dress tonight. I need to be on alert for threats, not watching to make sure your spectacular tits don’t fall out of your dress.”
Waverly opened her mouth. Shut it. Then opened it again.
“Shit. Sorry.” Xavier backed away and rubbed a hand over his face.
The break in his perfectly professional façade shocked her, fascinated her. She was glad she wasn’t the only one cracking from the pressure of constant togetherness.
“Hand me the red one?” she asked, taking pity on him and pointing at the next dress on the rack.
Without looking at her, Xavier grabbed it and handed it over. He looked like he wanted to apologize again. But Waverly didn’t give him the chance. She ducked behind the screen and shimmied out of the gossamer thin gown and into the red.
It too was a stunner. The slim, strapless column flowed down her curves highlighting all the right places with its film siren red. A long slit hit high on the thigh and allowed for a bit of room to move. The hem pooled in the slightest fishtail train. The length would be perfect for those to-die-for crystal Gladiator sandals she had tucked in the back of her closet. Hair half up and curled, gold cuff bracelets, she’d look Greek goddess-like and not have to worry about her “spectacular tits” falling out of anything, Waverly decided.
“Better?” she asked, arching an eyebrow in the mirror.
He stared at her reflection, raking her with a look from head to toe, and nodded his assent, the tic in his jaw told her there was a lot he wasn’t saying.
“Problem solved,” she said.
“Thank you,” he muttered the words through gritted teeth like it pained him to say them.
She brought her hands to her breasts and hefted them under the dress. “Still spectacular though, right?” she joked.
“Christ,” was the only part of his retort that she caught as he stalked out of her bedroom.
She laughed, loud and long, and then went to find her accessories.
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Xavier did another scan of the room, noting again the exits, the blind spots, the faces. Waverly had been a hit on stage presenting tonight and was reaping the benefits by being dragged around the after party, weaving in and out of the columns in the museum’s rotunda.
