He stared at her, so moved and so turned on by her words that all he could do was brush his knuckles against her cheek in wonder.
Chapter Eight
“Now tonight you do look like Cinderella. Except that you’re ten times more beautiful than she ever was. And I’d have to imagine those shoes you’ve got on are a bit more comfortable than glass slippers.”
Tessa smiled as she turned to face her handsome fiancé. “I’d have to wager a guess and say yes. And my Prince Charming is much better looking than some storybook character. Not to mention he looks exceptionally hot in his tuxedo.”
Ian grinned as he walked toward her with a slow, deliberate swagger to his step. “Speaking of hot, I don’t recall any illustrations of Cinderella where she was showing quite so much, ah, cleavage.”
She gave him a worried look. “I thought you told me it wasn’t too low-cut,” she fretted. “Ian, the last thing I want to do is walk into that party tonight with all those people and be showing too much of the, ah, goods.”
He shook his head, even as he ran one long finger down between her breasts. “Not to worry, love. The dress is perfect for you, you look like you just walked out of a dream. Or,” he added, pressing a kiss to the very top of her cleavage, “a fairytale. And I know that Cinderella is your very favorite.”
Tessa nodded, smoothing down the lapel of his black tuxedo jacket, even though there wasn’t so much as a speck of lint anywhere to be found. “My mother must have picked up the book at a secondhand shop or a garage sale somewhere. When she was in an up mood, she’d read it to me constantly. And when she was down, I’d just look at the pictures, until I learned how to read myself.” She looked downwards, her voice a bit forlorn as she recalled, “But the book got left behind somewhere in one of our many moves. Just like so many other of the things I cherished - a doll, a favorite jacket, a pair of shoes. And of course, Lambie.”
Ian gazed at her inquiringly. “Should I assume this Lambie was a toy of some sort and not an actual person?”
She smiled. “Lambie was my very favorite toy. A white woolly lamb with a pink bow around her neck. She went everywhere with me for about five years. Until she got lost or left behind in a move, and my heart was broken. Silly, I know, to get so upset about an old toy, but I cried for weeks after she was lost.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand, gazing down at her with a tender look that made her heart melt. “It’s not silly,” he murmured. “You had so little when you were a girl that it’s only natural you’d cherish the few things you owned. And I’m sorry about, er, Lambie. Perhaps we could find a replacement someday. After all, your Snoopy Santa needs a companion.”
Tessa laughed, whatever sadness she’d felt at reliving her childhood losses instantly forgotten. “Maybe I’ll just wait until we have a baby and buy them a Lambie of their own. It would look a little odd for a grown woman to be collecting stuffed toys.”
Ian’s hand slid down to gently caress her flat belly. “No babies just yet,” he reminded her. “We have a lot of lost time to make up, after all, and I’ve already told you I’m selfish enough to want you all to myself for awhile.”
“I know.” She rested her head against his shoulder as his arms slid about her waist. “I feel the same way.”
He pulled back the French cuff of his shirt to check his watch before releasing her reluctantly. “We should head downstairs, darling. Otis will be picking us up within the next few minutes, and Saturday night traffic in London is usually something of a nightmare.”
She nodded. “I’m ready. I just need my bag and wrap.”
“Wait.”
Tessa gazed at him expectantly, then felt a warm glow spread through every part of her body when she saw the way he was looking at her - with a combination of lust, admiration, and pride. But as much as it always thrilled her to know that he found her sexy and beautiful, it was the fact that he was proud of her, proud to have her by his side this evening, and especially proud to have her wearing his ring, that made her heart sing with joy.
“I just want to look at you for another minute or two,” he confessed. “To just drink in how beautiful you look tonight, Tessa. And everyone in that ballroom is going to be doing exactly the same thing. You are - incomparable.”
She beamed at him. “It’s just the dress, Ian. Anyone would look good in a dress like this.”
“Ah, but you couldn’t be more wrong, love,” he corrected, his hand touching a fold of the blue silk chiffon skirt of the ball gown. “You’re the only woman in the world who could do justice to a gown like this. Madelyn told me she’d been keeping this dress aside, that since it was a one-of-a-kind original she wanted it to go to someone worthy of its beauty. And when I called that morning to give her an idea of what I wanted for you, she knew immediately that this would be one of the gowns she would have you try on.”
The gorgeous Zuhair Murad original was a pale blue, a shade that Tessa had instantly pegged “Cinderella blue” the first time she’d set eyes on the gown. It was sleeveless, with a diamond and seed pearl detail sewn onto the shoulder straps. The neckline was slashed in a deep V, though not enough to reveal too much cleavage, the fabric over the bust softly gathered. A wide satin band nipped in at the waistline, and the long skirt fell in soft folds to the tips of her frosty pink toenails. Not wanting to detract even a bit from such a stunning gown, she’d eschewed any jewelry except for her engagement ring and the diamond stud earrings Ian had given her nearly a year ago. She’d left her hair down tonight, the blonde tresses having been styled in long, loose curls that fell nearly to her waist. Her makeup was soft and dreamy, her eyes shadowed in a silvery blue, her frosty pink lip gloss a matching shade to her nail polish.
“And you’ll be happy to know that this a brand new pair of shoes,” she joked, lifting her skirts enough to expose the silver stiletto sandals embellished with diamonds and pearls. “And they cost a lot of money. You’ll see the charge on my Neiman Marcus account next month.”
Ian threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Well, that will be something of a first, won’t it? But I’m very, very happy to see those new shoes. And,” he added in a deep, sensual whisper, “I’ll be even happier to fuck you later tonight while you’re still wearing these very sexy shoes.”
Chapter Eight
“Now tonight you do look like Cinderella. Except that you’re ten times more beautiful than she ever was. And I’d have to imagine those shoes you’ve got on are a bit more comfortable than glass slippers.”
Tessa smiled as she turned to face her handsome fiancé. “I’d have to wager a guess and say yes. And my Prince Charming is much better looking than some storybook character. Not to mention he looks exceptionally hot in his tuxedo.”
Ian grinned as he walked toward her with a slow, deliberate swagger to his step. “Speaking of hot, I don’t recall any illustrations of Cinderella where she was showing quite so much, ah, cleavage.”
She gave him a worried look. “I thought you told me it wasn’t too low-cut,” she fretted. “Ian, the last thing I want to do is walk into that party tonight with all those people and be showing too much of the, ah, goods.”
He shook his head, even as he ran one long finger down between her breasts. “Not to worry, love. The dress is perfect for you, you look like you just walked out of a dream. Or,” he added, pressing a kiss to the very top of her cleavage, “a fairytale. And I know that Cinderella is your very favorite.”
Tessa nodded, smoothing down the lapel of his black tuxedo jacket, even though there wasn’t so much as a speck of lint anywhere to be found. “My mother must have picked up the book at a secondhand shop or a garage sale somewhere. When she was in an up mood, she’d read it to me constantly. And when she was down, I’d just look at the pictures, until I learned how to read myself.” She looked downwards, her voice a bit forlorn as she recalled, “But the book got left behind somewhere in one of our many moves. Just like so many other of the things I cherished - a doll, a favorite jacket, a pair of shoes. And of course, Lambie.”
Ian gazed at her inquiringly. “Should I assume this Lambie was a toy of some sort and not an actual person?”
She smiled. “Lambie was my very favorite toy. A white woolly lamb with a pink bow around her neck. She went everywhere with me for about five years. Until she got lost or left behind in a move, and my heart was broken. Silly, I know, to get so upset about an old toy, but I cried for weeks after she was lost.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand, gazing down at her with a tender look that made her heart melt. “It’s not silly,” he murmured. “You had so little when you were a girl that it’s only natural you’d cherish the few things you owned. And I’m sorry about, er, Lambie. Perhaps we could find a replacement someday. After all, your Snoopy Santa needs a companion.”
Tessa laughed, whatever sadness she’d felt at reliving her childhood losses instantly forgotten. “Maybe I’ll just wait until we have a baby and buy them a Lambie of their own. It would look a little odd for a grown woman to be collecting stuffed toys.”
Ian’s hand slid down to gently caress her flat belly. “No babies just yet,” he reminded her. “We have a lot of lost time to make up, after all, and I’ve already told you I’m selfish enough to want you all to myself for awhile.”
“I know.” She rested her head against his shoulder as his arms slid about her waist. “I feel the same way.”
He pulled back the French cuff of his shirt to check his watch before releasing her reluctantly. “We should head downstairs, darling. Otis will be picking us up within the next few minutes, and Saturday night traffic in London is usually something of a nightmare.”
She nodded. “I’m ready. I just need my bag and wrap.”
“Wait.”
Tessa gazed at him expectantly, then felt a warm glow spread through every part of her body when she saw the way he was looking at her - with a combination of lust, admiration, and pride. But as much as it always thrilled her to know that he found her sexy and beautiful, it was the fact that he was proud of her, proud to have her by his side this evening, and especially proud to have her wearing his ring, that made her heart sing with joy.
“I just want to look at you for another minute or two,” he confessed. “To just drink in how beautiful you look tonight, Tessa. And everyone in that ballroom is going to be doing exactly the same thing. You are - incomparable.”
She beamed at him. “It’s just the dress, Ian. Anyone would look good in a dress like this.”
“Ah, but you couldn’t be more wrong, love,” he corrected, his hand touching a fold of the blue silk chiffon skirt of the ball gown. “You’re the only woman in the world who could do justice to a gown like this. Madelyn told me she’d been keeping this dress aside, that since it was a one-of-a-kind original she wanted it to go to someone worthy of its beauty. And when I called that morning to give her an idea of what I wanted for you, she knew immediately that this would be one of the gowns she would have you try on.”
The gorgeous Zuhair Murad original was a pale blue, a shade that Tessa had instantly pegged “Cinderella blue” the first time she’d set eyes on the gown. It was sleeveless, with a diamond and seed pearl detail sewn onto the shoulder straps. The neckline was slashed in a deep V, though not enough to reveal too much cleavage, the fabric over the bust softly gathered. A wide satin band nipped in at the waistline, and the long skirt fell in soft folds to the tips of her frosty pink toenails. Not wanting to detract even a bit from such a stunning gown, she’d eschewed any jewelry except for her engagement ring and the diamond stud earrings Ian had given her nearly a year ago. She’d left her hair down tonight, the blonde tresses having been styled in long, loose curls that fell nearly to her waist. Her makeup was soft and dreamy, her eyes shadowed in a silvery blue, her frosty pink lip gloss a matching shade to her nail polish.
“And you’ll be happy to know that this a brand new pair of shoes,” she joked, lifting her skirts enough to expose the silver stiletto sandals embellished with diamonds and pearls. “And they cost a lot of money. You’ll see the charge on my Neiman Marcus account next month.”
Ian threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Well, that will be something of a first, won’t it? But I’m very, very happy to see those new shoes. And,” he added in a deep, sensual whisper, “I’ll be even happier to fuck you later tonight while you’re still wearing these very sexy shoes.”
