Stand-In Saturday (Love For Days #2) - Kirsty Moseley Page 0,47

tied to her hip along with knee-high red-and-white boots, wide gold cuff bracelets at her wrists, and the gold tiara. Her hair is blown out big, like the actress on the show I used to watch reruns of with my dad when I was a kid; it flows down around her shoulders and back. There’s so much skin, so many curves, so much … bombshell … that I’m worried I might pass out due to lack of blood because it all seems to have flown straight down south. She looks like Comic Con gone wild. It’s perfection.

I’ve never been more attracted to anyone—ever. My dick has gone from sleeping to full salute so fast that I’m surprised it’s not cut Yoshi’s head clean off.

Scratch what I said earlier—she should win the best-dressed prize. She wins all the damn prizes for this outfit.

Hell, Luce, here, take everything I own. Take my heart, take my body. You win; it’s yours. They think it’s all over; it is now …

She’s an actual Leonardo DiCaprio in Wolf of Wall Street fist bite in this outfit.

Behind me, Tim loses the battle against stifling his laughter, and I shift on my feet, knowing this is going to be bad.

I’ve fucked up spectacularly here and obviously heard what I wanted to hear when Jared said “dress fancy.” What is wrong with me?

Lucie stalks towards me, her strides measured and calculated, her hands still in fists. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me and ignores everyone who ogles her as she walks past. I’m not sure she’s even breathing. She looks like she could spew fire. I’m actually concerned for my life.

Fuck. I’m in trouble here.

“Theo, close your mouth,” Jared whispers helpfully from my side. But I note that he takes a step away from me, obviously clearing the blast zone in case shit goes down.

I snap my mouth shut and gulp just as Lucie stops in front of me. I can’t help but notice that she looks even better up close. Her make-up is flawless, the skin of her shoulders is creamy and smooth, and her figure is all hourglass curves. I want every inch of it wrapped around me like a boa constrictor—I wouldn’t even care if she crushed me to death at the same time. At the moment, I can’t think of any way I’d rather go.

Her eyes finally leave my face and flick around the group I’m standing with before coming back to me again. I flinch at the hardness to them. What confuses me is the polite, tight smile on her mouth.

“So, it’s obviously not a fancy-dress party like I was led to believe.” It’s a statement, not a question.

I wince apologetically. “I’m sorry. Christ, I’m so sorry. Jared apparently said dress fancy, and I heard fancy dress and … shit. This is all my fault. I’m sorry.” I awkwardly shuffle on my feet, hating that her eyes seem to be a little glazed.

Is she about to cry? Oh, man, that hurts.

Amy and Heather step forward as one and crowd her, Amy’s arm supportively going around her waist.

Heather shakes her head, and her lips pull down at the corners. “Oh, Lucie, I’m mortified for you. Oh my God, I can’t believe this has happened. Theo!” She turns to glare at me, eyes narrowing accusingly as she punches me in the shoulder so hard that I’ll likely wake with a bruise in the morning. I can’t even blame her.

Amy reaches up and takes hold of Lucie’s shoulders, stepping closer to her. “You look absolute fire right now. Just incredible. So bloody hot. Don’t even worry about this. You’re stunning. Own it, girl. You’re killing it.” She gives her a little shake and firmly nods her head. “Seeing you in this, I’m actually jealous. I wish this were a bloody fancy-dress party.” She turns to Jared and pouts, a frown lining her forehead. “We should have had a theme for tonight. What a missed opportunity.”

Lucie’s smile doesn’t change; it’s polite and obviously fake. It’s the smile Dolores Umbridge gives when she makes people write with the blood pen. She’s plotting my murder behind that smile.

The people around us are still staring, enjoying the spectacle. They probably think we’re the entertainment for the evening. As I look around, I notice that almost every male guest at the party is lustfully staring at Lucie—either outright or discreetly so as not to get caught by their significant others. People laughed at my costume, but they’re lusting after hers.