Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“I’ll leave you to try on whatever appeals,” she practically sings. “Just knock when you’ve made your selections.”
Then, the older woman sweeps out of the room in a cloud of perfume, her attendants trailing behind her. Within seconds, it’s just me and Nick in the small sitting room, his magnetic presence making it almost impossible to breathe. Oh my god, when did it get so hot? Beads of sweat break out on my brow, and I swear, my underarms feel damp.
“It’s humid today,” I gasp slightly, fanning myself with one hand. “Is there any way to turn up the A/C? I think the pregnancy is making me feel like a heat lamp.”
“Sure,” Nick drawls with a lazy smile while reaching for a remote on the table and clicking it. “But while we wait for the temp to go down, I think you should go ahead and try on the pink dress, sweetheart. Why waste time?” he drawls. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
I stare at him again because why does it feel like Nick planned our shopping excursion down to the very last detail? He seems to adore my curvy form and wants to see me decked out in gorgeous fashions. But I put the thought aside because of course, it’s not about me, per se. It’s about making me presentable so that I don’t embarrass the billionaire in front of his fancy friends.
“Of course,” I manage to choke out before standing and picking up the gown. “I’ll just be a sec.”
Then, I practically run to the little dressing area in the corner for privacy. It’s not much more than a nook with a black oriental screen for modesty, but the ability to be hidden from Nick’s knowing blue gaze is a relief. I pant a little bit, trying to get my bearings.
“Everything okay back there?” the billionaire calls. “You looked a little peaked, Els.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” I squeak, before trying to bring my voice down a register. “Just changing.”
“Great,” the billionaire remarks. I can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Let me know if you need help with any zippers.”
The alpha male is right because when I finally get the gown on, there’s a fastening in the back that’s hard to reach. But I’m determined to do things myself, and contort into a pretzel before finally zipping up all the way and staring in the mirror. Immediately, my jaw drops because the woman gazing back at me isn’t plain Ella Moore anymore. Instead, she looks like a princess with gleaming golden hair flowing over one shoulder, and a flush to her rosy cheeks. The pink fabric hugs my curves without being obscene. It’s obvious that I’m pregnant, but not in a bumpy, lumpy, and ungainly way. Instead, I look like a glowing Madonna, my burgeoning tummy cosseted and even graceful. Plus, the décolletage is low, showing off my Double D’s which seem to have grown with the pregnancy, and my hips are wide and sassy due to the clinging fabric.
But when I move my leg a bit, a frown crosses my features because I’m wearing granny panties underneath, and you can see them through the side slit. Granted, the panties aren’t too ugly. They’re boy shorts that are almost grey from being laundered so many times, but that’s okay because I think “greige” is the fashionable color at the moment. The problem is that they show at all, ruining the image of a beautiful princess.
Frowning, I reach down to try and pull up the material to hide it behind the pink taffeta of the gown. But there’s simply too much panty, and it’s impossible to pull it up higher than it already is. What should I do?
“Do you have a safety pin?” I call to Nick outside.
“No, I definitely don’t have a safety pin,” he smirks. “Why?”
“I was just wondering,” I mutter while fiddling with the dress again. God, is there any way to fix this? I try to pull the material of the boy shorts backwards so that it shows less at the front, but that does no good either. Damn, I should have put on a thong or g-string before I came.
“Everything okay?” Nick calls. “I’d love to see you, Ella. I’m sure you look flawless.”
For a moment, I contemplate going out there with the granny panties visible. It’s fine. It’s not like we’re out in public where people will laugh. But then my heart turns over because I look like a beautiful vision, and I want Nick to see me as such. It’s been so long since that first night we met when I was dressed up in my former boss’s gown, and I miss the magic of that steamy encounter. I want Nick to view me as gorgeous and desirable, and with only a second’s hesitation, I pull off the boy shorts so that I’m completely bare beneath the dress.