Page 42 of Sins of a King
His eyes weren’t on me; they were on the three dresses hanging along the back wall. All of them were floor length, but he bypassed the emerald green and navy dresses and went immediately for the black, strapless sheath.
“This one,” he said, picking it up and handing it to me.
“You don’t get a say,” I quipped.
“Aye, I do,” he teased. “Show it to me when you’re ready.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips and then ducked out.
I stripped out of my clothes and shimmied into the sheath dress. Zipping up the side zipper, I adjusted the bodice and then looked in the mirror.
Oh. No. It showed off a lot of cleavage, way more than I was comfortable with.
“Barrett? Are you dressed?” Flynn called.
“Uh, yeah. I guess.”
“Let me in. I want to see.”
“No, I don’t think—”
“Please?”
“Have you ever said that word?” I asked.
“I can’t remember the last time I said it.”
With a labored sigh, I opened the dressing room door.
He froze, his gaze perusing me, eyes lingering on the swell of my breasts. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Stop looking at me like that,” I commanded.
“Why?”
“Because.”
He let out a low chuckle, and it took all of my willpower not to launch myself into his arms. “I told you that was the dress.”
I slipped back into the dressing room and put on my street clothes, feeling some of the magic disappear. Total Cinderella complex.
Picking up the dress and matching shoes, I headed out of the dressing room toward the cash register. I knew Flynn was going to pay for everything. I could accept moderate gifts without a problem, but letting him pay for my clothing, pay for my undergarments… It was too much. Wasn’t it? Or was it just generous of him?
Handing off the dress and shoes to the saleswoman, I turned to look at Flynn. He raised an eyebrow. The saleswoman wrapped our purchases, and with a smile told us to come again. Flynn took the boutique bags, and we walked outside to the waiting Rolls.
“You’re not going to fight me about buying you a dress?” he asked when we were driving away from the boutique.
I snorted with laughter. “Would there be a point?”
“No,” he said with a grin. “There wouldn’t be.”
“Thank you,” I said. “The dress is beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as the woman, but it’ll do.”
I warmed from his compliment and was downright giddy when he reached across the seat and grabbed my hand. I looked out the window, trying to keep my heart rate under control. Ten minutes later, the car stopped again.
“Where are we now?” I demanded.
“Salon,” Flynn said.
