It’s both sexy and elegant.
Zade sent it to me, and the rebellious side of me almost threw it out to go and find my own damn dress. But then my imagination got away from me.
And I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the look in his eyes when he sees me wearing the dress and shoes he chose for me. I was horrified by the butterflies that were set free in my stomach with the incessant desire to bring that image to life.
“Tonight,” I say quietly, a frown tugging at my lips.
What are you doing, Addie?
Zade picks me up in a classic Mustang. The metal gleams in the moonlight, glinting off the rock in the sky as if it was built to be seen after sundown.
Shakily, I make my way down the porch steps. I wrap my long trench coat tighter around my body, partly to ward off the chill and partly to ward off the anxiety stirring in my gut.
I can’t tell if I have a bad feeling about tonight or not. What I do know is that whatever happens, I’m going to see Zade in an entirely new light and discover new things about him. Things that might make me hate him more… or less.
And the latter is what I’m scared of most.
Before I can make my way to the car, his driver’s side door is swinging open, and a suit-clad leg is stepping out.
Oxygen crystallizes in my lungs as Zade takes one last hit of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stomping it out. Smoke billows from his mouth as he looks at me from beneath hooded eyes.
Jesus Christ.
“You shouldn’t litter,” I say hoarsely, earning a slight grin in return. He bends and picks up the cigarette butt and deposits it in his pocket.
“Sorry, baby,” he rasps. “Won’t happen again.”
I can hardly say thank you when I’m too enraptured by the dark God before me.
He’s absolutely breathtaking. And I’d like to blame the cold autumn air on the ice in my lungs, but I know better.
Zade is adorned in an all-black suit. Every single inch of the fabric stitched to the exact millimeter of his body. It fits him impeccably, molding to his muscular arms, trimmed waist, and thick thighs.
My knees weaken, along with my resolve.
I have the most insane urge to turn around, walk back in that house, bend over the couch and let him fuck the rest of whatever sanity I have left out of me.
I want to be delirious from his cock, and to make matters worse, I know he would absolutely surpass every one of my expectations if I let him.
God?
I don’t even get to finish that thought before he’s walking towards me, a sinfully dark smirk on his face.
The black suit does nothing but darken his aura. Zade is Hades, stepping out from the underworld and wreaking havoc on my quiet little life. The wicked scar cutting through his nearly-white eye, with his other nearly-black eye is a combination that could only be forged in Hell.
It’s just not fucking fair.
“You’re fucking magnificent,” he growls as he stalks towards me, his shiny shoes reflecting the moonlight. His voice is deeper than normal—smokier. Deadlier.
It’s only when his hand rises towards my face that I notice the single red rose in his hand. He slips the flower behind my curls, biting back a smile as he does.
I hold my breath. I feel just like a mouse caught in a trap, with my predator licking his lips, ready to eat me alive.
Before I can open my mouth, he’s pressing into me and grabbing my trench coat, wrenching it apart and down my arms. I gasp, both shocked by his actions and the cold licking against my skin.
“What the he—”
“You wore the dress I bought you,” he interrupts, his mismatched eyes roving over the entirety of my body.
I swallow and give him a look. “I wore it out of convenience. I hate dress shopping.”
He barely acknowledges me—we both know that’s not why I wore it—and focuses his attention on every inch of my body. Flames lap at his pupils as the heat in his gaze intensifies.
My coat dangles in his hand, and I glare at it, willing it to magically appear back on my body.
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. I feel exposed, and the way he’s looking at me is searing me from the inside out.
I’m just… really fucking uncomfortable right now.
I hold my hand out expectantly. “Are you done holding my coat hostage? I’m freezing.”
His eyes finally draw back to my own. A shiver snakes down my spine, slithering against my shot nerve endings.
God, the way he’s looking at me should be fucking illegal.
Instead of doing as I ask, he grabs my outstretched hand in his own and inspects it closely, his brow lowered as he concentrates.